#also i hope its clear that im not trying to like Call You Out or anything here akdfgklds

[6thscara]

i’m alive i swear!!!

Hanahaki Disease [oneshot— part one?]

✭ Scaramouche x Reader

ׂ╰┈➤ hanahki au / reader’s love is unrequited💔 / not many details for reader’s character / light angst / some lumine x scara / scaramouche is called Wanderer / no use of y/n

.ೃ࿐ synopsis ; you’re just another adventurer, she’s the traveler. of course it was dumb to be hopeful, but love turns you foolish. it’s a force with enough power to drive you to death

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bro i cannot finish writing this.. i’ve had it in my drafts for like a year but i don’t know where to go w it tbh.

in that year i’ve also been going through a lot… but i wanna write again!! and i wanna take requests :D

no beta im tired of this thing💔

2,277 words

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You expected this— knew fully well it would happen, and yet you pursued.

Between you and the blonde traveler, Lumine, of course he’d like her more. It wasn’t even a contest— she’s strong, clever, and beautiful.

On the other hand, you’re just you. Which isn’t a lot. Not enough for him. Yet, your wishful thinking kept you going.

It also brought you here once again— slumped over in a secluded field in the forest, choking out petals with various hues. Your eyes scrunch at the sight of the flowers you’ve been coughing out, your heart full of resent. You sigh, thinking about how pathetic you must look.

You’ve known the Wanderer for a while, though still not too long. You knew him enough to know that despite his cold demeanour, there was a soft side to him. Although you’ve seen part of it, its entirety was reserved for someone else.

That’s why you find yourself in such a pitiful state.

With one last look at the mess you’ve made, you stand up. Your wobbly knees almost knock you over before you can hold onto a nearby tree to catch your breath.

Your body was starting to grow weak. Day by day, it was getting harder to do commissions and your daily activities— which definitely did not go unnoticed by your peers.

“…What’s up with you?” A voice calls out behind you, accompanied by the sound of jingles. It was the Wanderer.

Your eyes widen, the surprise making you flinch before quickly composing yourself. You turn around to face him, feeling your heart already begin to beat faster when met with his presence. It hurt.

You see him cross his arms, looking at you with scrunched eyes.

“Oh,— nothing,” You quickly say, “I was… doing some commissions until I had to fight off some hilichurls.” You lie.

The Wanderer breathes out a small sigh, taking a moment to inspect your poise before uncrossing his arms and speaking, “Alright then. You just didn’t look so good,”

You nod, reasonably understanding why. “No need to worry.” You say brightly, giving him a smile.

Thankfully, the wind had already taken the flower petals away, otherwise the odd pile might have seemed weird.

“So, what are you doing here?” You curiously ask.

“Not much. The traveler requested to meet me.” He answers, eyes drifting off as a hint of bashfulness uncharacteristically cracks through his manner.

He clears his throat, eyebrows slightly furrowing. You cough a bit.

“I see,” you grin, though you feel unsteady at his answer. Just because of it, you can feel your stomach stir with uneasiness while your chest tightens.

“Well, enough of me taking up your time then! Go see her.” You laugh, patting his shoulder. He scoffs.

“Exactly what I was about to do. See you.” He says, turning around and walking off. His hat jingles, leaving a lingering trail of his showing. You call out a last “bye”, to which he doesn’t mind.

You stare at his back as he leaves— and you’re sure your gaze is full of desperate yearning.

That’s that, you try to tell yourself. But it just really hurts. Simple as that.

With one last heavy sigh, you place your hands on your hips, looking up at the clear sky.

It was probably better to go do something instead of mulling over it. Right— you had planned on going to the Akademiya to try and do some research about your condition. You didn’t want to go to a doctor, firstly because the sickness seemed acquainted with your feelings, and secondly because you didn’t want anyone else to potentially find out.

You start making your way towards Sumeru City, traversing through the land’s greenery while your mind stays busy thinking about Wanderer.

It’s been like that for quite some time— ever since you met him, he’s been lingering in your thoughts, and you’ve been trying to get closer to him. Though you did to an extent, you wanted more.

It felt as if a needle pricked your heart for every thought you had of him. Thinking about him with anyone else but you was dreadful. Your heart begged you to stop— to focus on what’s ahead.

Without even realizing it, you finally reached the city. Your attention was finally brought back to your surroundings once you heard the bustling vendors, lively restaurants, and scholars discussing academic matters.

The smell of food coming from nearby restaurants was tempting, but you figured it would be better to do research now and eat later.

You make your way over to the House of Daena, promptly beginning to browse the vast bookshelves. There were quite a few Amurta students gathered around the shelves you were looking through— reasonably, since the Darshan was tied to biology and medicine.

After some perusing, you ended up with about 3 stacked books next to you. A lot of the terms in these books confused you, but the indexes were very helpful while looking for this disease. Many books you went through didn’t even mention anything similar to your condition, which was frustrating.

But finally— you find it. Hanahaki Disease, the text read, seemingly originating from Inazuma. You read with great interest, carefully going over the contents.

There wasn’t as much information on hanahaki disease as there was on others, but with what you had to work with, it was sufficient.

It was a condition that slowly killed someone whose affection for another was not returned. Your eyes widened, your breath growing heavy. You were right— it was tied to these hopeless feelings.

Then… what were you supposed to do? Unrequited love couldn’t be fixed with medicine— not any surgery, or antidote could help. Love is controlled solely by the heart of the beholder.

You gather your initial thoughts before continuing.

Hanahaki Disease, a chronic condition caused by deep, pristine love which is not returned. These unreciprocated feelings are the root of blooming flowers in the bearer’s lungs, slowly killing them until it becomes too much for the body to handle.

You continue reading on, flipping the page curiously. You let out a relieved sigh once you see that the remaining information is about possible ways to make the condition go away.

The text read, “With today’s known information, two solutions are available; the safest option is allowing the patient to let go of their feelings before they are killed,”

Right, as if you could do that. Much easier said than done. But it’s not like the author would’ve known about your love’s severity.

Sighing, you continued, “whilst the other option includes a surgical procedure, in which the blooming Hanahaki flowers will be removed directly from the patient’s lungs.”

Your heart sank. “The surgical removal is a dangerous procedure that must be taken with caution. Following the removal, the victim will also lose their romantic love for the object of affection.”

Seriously— this was your other option? You can’t go through with that! You’d probably die anyway… there's no trustworthy surgeon you know who could do it privately for you. Especially considering the after effect, it just didn’t seem like a doable solution. Love is something you hold so closely. The concept that turns existence into life. But did that really mean that it’s something to die for?

Your emotions swelled, causing a fevered feeling in your stomach.

What would Wanderer do if you died?

You flinch as you ask yourself that repulsive question, immediately beginning to cough. Hastily, you bring an arm up to cover your mouth. Ragged breaths leave your mouth as you cough up a few petals, a bitter taste on your tongue despite its sweet appearance.

Although you were alone in a secluded space, you don’t want to disturb anybody else. Covering your mouth, you let out a few little coughs before regaining your composure and cleaning up the sickeningly beautiful flower petals.

Your fingers carefully turn the page, hoping for more information, but there was nothing. Unfortunately, it seems like the disease didn’t have as much research done.

With lots of heavy feelings on your shoulders, you close the book. An uneasy sensation swirled in your stomach knowing you had a big choice ahead of you— a choice of life or death.

As you put the book away, you realize you got a bit too busy with your findings to acknowledge your body’s needs. Your eyes are tired after being glued to the book for so long, and your stomach feels empty. It was time to get food.

It was as if an aura of misery surrounded you as you walked through Sumeru City. It was only evening, and the sky was painted with orange hues, but the feelings towering over you made the air around you feel gloomy.

And yet, you try to think positively. Wanderer and the traveller aren’t completely official… so you might still have a chance! If you could just be a bit more charming— do a bit more, maybe there was a small possibility that he could think of you more fondly?

…

You plague yourself with these unconvincing thoughts, squeezing out all the hope you have left.

After all, you only had two other options that wouldn’t even suffice.

A familiar scent grabs your attention as you’re walking— a delicious aroma surrounding you. Your eyes find the same restaurant you considered stopping at earlier, a reminder of your mission for food.

Languidly, your legs drag on as you enter.

“Hello, there! What’ll you be having today?” The tavern owner, Lambad exclaims. His voice is warm and friendly.

The environment helps you relax— the energy is cozy and comfortable, soothing as you think about what to get as you sit down. “Hmm…” Your eyes scan the menu, looking for something easy to eat while staying within your budget. “I’ll just have a shawarma wrap.”

With a nod, Lambad leaves to begin preparing your food. You relax into your chair, finally being able to decompress in the flavourful aromatic atmosphere. You’ve always enjoyed eating here, because not only did they serve amazing food, but the tavern itself was like a cozy, inviting home space.

However, it did feel a bit lonely. You notice these odd feelings of isolation once you listen in on others conversations— academics, gossip, small talk, the usual. Normally, you would also be here with at least one other friend, happily chatting it up. Occasionally, even with Wanderer. But right now, you were filled with bittersweet feelings of lonesome comfort. Bittersweet because he wasn’t here with you, and comfort because it’d also be painful to have him near.

Lost in your thoughts, you ease into your surroundings, until you hear a particular jingle in the air.

It’s an immediately recognizable sound which makes you sit upright. Turning your eyes to the restaurant’s entryway, you see just what you suspected. The perfect, breathtaking Wanderer, alongside an equally as desirable blonde traveler. He holds the door open for Lumine, trailing her as he walks in before taking her side.

It’s a small action, and yet it has an effect. Such simple mannerisms make you reflect– has he ever held a door open for you? Follow you like he follows her? No, it’s the little things that are different. Different because of his love for Lumine.

You’ve always been taking the lead, so he hasn’t had to go out of his way for you at all. In that way, he has been following you, but not like he follows her.

When the Wanderer accompanies you, he’s focused on anything else in front of him– the area’s surroundings, any enemies, or events. It’s not at all like the way his eyes follow Lumine’s presence. Or how he tries to hide his enamoured gaze. How he goes along with her no matter the occasion, compared to mostly hanging around you because he was asked to.

Such a simple sight was enough to make your stomach swirl. You quietly get up, forgetting about your food as a bad feeling of turmoil begins churning. The two don’t even notice as you scurry past them– too involved with each other to concern themselves with the busy atmosphere.

The late evening’s cold air hits your face as you hastily run out the door. It’s refreshing. It’s the perfect renewal of fresh air after feeling so suddenly alert. Another sigh leaves you feeling breathless as you begin walking through Sumeru City’s uncommonly calm streets.

Aside from the occasional hum of vendors or laughter from children staying out too late, you’re once again left with your thoughts. Love was consuming you badly, destroying you as it whirled around your insides– literally.

A nauseous feeling circulated from your head towards your stomach, making the environment spin.

Not wanting to make a displeasing scene in the middle of the city, you make your way out of civilization, retreating to the forest. As if your body had a cue, flowers began expelling out of your stomach through your mouth.

Everything feels dizzy— you can’t tell if that little squelching sound is you or the greenery you’re destroying as you grip the ground beneath for support.

It feels gross. A sharp taste burns on the back of your throat while bittersweet petals continue passing up.

The rush advances quickly, leaving you breathless and panting on the ground. You crouch over the ground, barely able to hold yourself up.

The exhaustion is too much, making you simply lay on your back, having only the day’s late stars to comfort you. A rustle of wind passes, which makes you feel a bit better. Still, the remaining unsatisfactory taste and burning in your throat doesn’t ease up much.

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i’m sorryuuyyyyy.,, i seriously don’t know where to go with this and i’m lwk tired of it cuz i wanna write some fluff :’D

so kind of an open ending but i’m also up to writing any suggestions!!

[always-azriels-princess]

The Wrong Thing part two

Guysss i did it :) im so proud

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Part 1

Word Count: 1.4K

Azriel was avoiding you. You knew it, he knew it, the entire Inner Circle knew it. Feyre had tried to approach you a couple times to figure out what had happened, but you never answered the knocks on your door.

It was embarassing, and yet you completely understood why your mate didn't want you. The haunted look in his eyes that night appeared in your nightmares each night, and each one ended with you waking up, slicked with sweat and panting as if just finishing a marathon.

Bags had started to form under your eyes from the lack of sleep, and Azriel wasn't looking much better. You had overheard Rhys talking to Feyre on multiple occasions about how Azriel was getting unfocused during missions, sloppy during training, and quick to anger in simple conversations.

You knew you had to fix your mistake, but it was hard to think of how your mate would look at you, like he never wanted to see you again. And you didn't even blame him, you wouldn't want to see yourself either after what you had done.

"No."

The words hung around your neck, suffocating you every second of every day like a noose growing tighter and tighter. Rhys had also noticed your work as a diplomat for the Night Court was diminishing in its thoroughness.

Nuala knocked on your door, as you were deep in some paperwork updating the new peace treaty with Winter. "Come in," you called.

"Good afternoon miss," Nuala said as she walked in. "The High Lord would like to see you in his office."

You sighed, expecting something like this after on your and Azriel's actions in the past week. "Thank you Nuala, I'll be right there."

The chair scraped back after you stood up, shuffling the papers and stuffing them in a drawer.

Dread coiled in your gut as you made your way to the High Lord's office, worried he would make you confront what you had been trying so hard to hide from.

You knocked thrice quietly, hoping Rhys had maybe left to go get a snack and you could sneak back into your room. To no avail, you heard a faint "come in," and you took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

The breath you had previously took escaped you as you gazed over every inch of the shadowsinger, completely ignoring the High Lord sitting at his desk, smirking with his "I'm so amazing" face.

As you drank in the image of your mate, his shadows clung to him, wrapping around his body like a second skin, while others writhed around his feet, swarming and twisting in chaotic patterns. The tension in the room increased ten-fold and the air around Azriel began to darken, his very presence sucking in the light around him. His adam's apple bobbed as he traced your every curve, as if committing the image to memory.

You just stood in the doorway, both you and your mate frozen, staring at each other, before Rhys cleared his throat and you snapped out of your trance, breaking your eye contact with your mate. As you sat down on the opposite side of the couch Azriel was on,

"Now, you probably know why I called you in," Rhys explained. "This," he gestured wildly, waving his hands between you two, "needs to stop. Azriel, you've almost completely dropped your training schedule, and I have reports from your informants that you're missing their check-ins." He turned to you, "And you are three days behind on the paperwork for the Winter Court peace treaty renewal."

Rhys sighed and stood up, walking towards the door. Before exiting the room, he turned back and said, "I don't know what's going on with you two, and I'm not going to snoop through your heads to figure it out, but something clearly happened, so you can leave this room when you are back to normal." With a wave of his hand, the door closed behind him as he walked away, and you could hear the soft click of the lock turning, keeping you stuck in a room with male who wanted nothing to do with you.

The air in the room was thick, suffocating. The silence between you and Azriel seemed to stretch endlessly, like the tension before a storm. He sat on the couch across from you, his posture rigid, every muscle in his body taut, like he was ready to shadow away at any second.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him at first. The guilt gnawed at your insides, raw and jagged, but you forced yourself to breathe, slow and steady, to calm the racing in your chest. The room was too quiet, and yet every sound felt amplified. The way his shadows whispered, curling and slithering at his feet, the way his eyes seemed to burn into you from across the room.

He was avoiding you, but you were avoiding him too.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat, suffocating you before they even had a chance to leave your lips.

Azriel spoke first, his voice low and strained. "You don’t have to do this." It was almost a whisper, his words laced with pain and, not anger...no, something more vunerable. Insecurity.

"Do what?" you finally managed, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears. "Talk about it?"

His voice was low and strained. "You have already made your feelings very clear, and I would never try to force you into anything you don't want."

You sat up, confused. "Az, I never said I didn't want the bond. I was overjoyed when it snapped, but I....I panicked because I know that you deserve someone better than me."

His beautiful hazel eyes softened. "But...you said no. The bond snapped and you said no." His voice was getting louder and faster as he spoke. "You were right, you shouldn't want this bond, I'm broken and scarred, and you're so....so perfect."

An ache spread through your chest, as though all the fragile pieces of your heart had shattered at once, leaving sharp fragments to tear at your insides.

"Azriel," your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes. You shifted closer on the couch, until your legs were brushing against his. "I told you this that night, and I will tell you again. You. Are. Not. Weak. You are not broken, you are not scarred, you do not have a single flaw unless it is loving your family too much. I can never take back what I said that night, and I will replay that moment in my head for the rest of my life, praying to be able to go back in the past and change it. You have a such a pure heart, so do not think for one moment that you are not deserving of me. I am the one who doesn't deserve you." You finished your speech, a soft, uneven breath escaping you.

Azriel stared into your soul, his eyes softening with wonder and adoration. He smiled softly as he drew closer. When you felt his warm breath on your face, he murmured, "Why don't we just agree that we both deserve each other," and closed the distance between you. His lips met yours, and it was like the world fell away and the only thing that mattered was the male in front of you. His hand slid from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. It was slow, unhurried, like you both had all the time in the world. You smiled against his lips, fingers threading through the dark strands of his hair as you leaned into him, deepening the kiss.

The taste of him, the feel of him, was overwhelming in the best way. It was like coming home, like a storm finally releasing the tension it had held for so long. You regretfully pulled away, resting your forehead against his. You were finally home.

The peace of the moment was shattered as the door was thrown in, what seemed to be the entire court of Velaris pushing themselves through. Cassian laughed deeply, sweeping Az off the couch and hugging him "Finally!" he exclaimed. Mor, who was bawling her eyes out, flung herself at you, knocking yourself back against the couch. "THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL!" You paused for a second, then laughed and hugged her back.

Rhys came in with Feyre on his arm, looking all too smug. "I told you Feyre darling, I'm a genius."

Feyre smacked him upside the head.

@lilah-asteria >3 ilsym you are my first tag ever and i'm so grateful for the support so thank youuuu

[tobyisave]

acting lessons

this is for my chapter 5 au... I tried to compose a toxic doomed yaoi saiouma essay in the tags just now but it went over the tag limit (mortifying) so I'm just going to paste it under the cut!!

////cw for suicide of course. also heads up my version of saiouma is almost completely one sided 👍🏼

#look.. in my mind there is no world where shuichi truly comes around on kokichi #but there is TOTALLY a world where he feels eternally fucked up and guilty about assisting in his suicide #and cant bring himself to hate anymore #cant bring himself to reject the casual but blatantly self-indulgent touches of the boy hes about to murder in the most excruciating way possible #just let him have his fun #let him squeeze your shoulder a little too long #its the least you can do when hes about to let his entire body be turned into an unrecognizable puddle of gore #you dont have to pretend you like it. he KNOWS you dont like it. just let it happen & soon enough itll be over and youll never have to see him again #youll never be *able* to see him again. nothing left of him to even call a body #fucking unidentifiable #god. #(to be clear i dont approve of that logic at all but i sure think shuichi would feel that way)

#its like oumota but worse because (to me) shuu has completely written him off by ch5 and doesnt even need the poison blackmailing to agree #its shuichis low point after all hes fully suicidal and thinks kokichi is the mastermind who destroyed humanity's last hope #he doesnt have time to recalculate his opinion before its too late #he agrees almost immediately #but the closer it gets the less he can justify it #like god this guy fills me with rage and we would never ever in a million years get along but hes also a warm breathing human being #and hes in love with me or something and i just agreed to kill him. EAGERLY! #to his FUCKING FACE #yes i openly hated him already. and yes he didnt even blink when i told him i could kill him #if anything he looked happy! #but god how could i just say that to someone? how did it get this bad? #and how is he still giving me finger hearts through the camera while we test out angles for his fucking DEATH VIDEO #maybe just maybe its because he really thinks this will save us. but maybe he just wants to die #and i dont even know if that makes a difference anymore #et cetera……..

#like i said im not a saiouma guy in the traditional sense but #i do like pathetic clingy kokichi x shuichi who hates himself for harboring genuine malice towards him #(justified malice) #but is too self doubting to take the reins and stop the horrible thing theyve already set in motion

#meeting the same fate as kaede because he THOUGHT he was agreeing to kill the mastermind #when in reality it was really just a cagey guy who was trying to do the EXACT same thing and made the mistake of going it alone #and now that guy who couldve been his ally is dead and he has to pretend hes ok and lie to his friends to derail this trial #for this stupid idiotic plan he let himself get blindly swept up in #that was never going to work in the first place #he knew it was full of holes he knew ouma was full of shit #he knew himself he knew he'd buckle under the pressure of the trial #but he didnt say a thing #it was so much easier to go with it. he just wanted it to be fucking over with #well its not over. the game continues and kokichi is dead and for what #didnt lift a fucking finger #fucking idiot coward bottom of the barrel piece of shit. GOD #i dont know man. it's just real kill yourself hours for shuichi after this one

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hello! Ive been binging poly!141 and I keep coming back to your writing for my fix (because by now its basically an addiction😅)

I had this idea that the 141 are together with a civilian reader. And civilian reader works in retail, part time, and is mostly at home. Normally, they would be home by the time their boys came home, welcoming them with open arms, a hot plate of food, and time to rest and relax. But this time, the 141 get home early and realize where reader works: Walmart (or equivalent). Reader has been keeping this a secret cause they know its not cute like a coffee shop or cool. Its just their job. And now the most important men in their life know. Im thinking the 141 found out because they went grocery shopping and happened to come across reader or something similar to that.

I work at Walmart and it sucks🥲 thought that maybe something like this might help😅

Tysm, nonny! So happy to hear you like the writing. I hope this does your idea justice. (Walmart doesn't have stores in the UK, but they own ASDA.)

Also, thank you for my first request! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

pure fluff, bad accents (per usual)

Your boys find out you work part-time at ASDA on a random rainy Thursday in March.

You don't really need a job. All four of your lovers are officers with the British army. Prior to you, they all lived in base barracks. Prior to you, they lived fairly Spartan existences. Prior to you, most of their income sat in the bank, quietly accumulating.

They have plenty of money saved up that they love using to spoil you, when you let them. You know that if you asked, they'd give you everything, but you draw the line about asking them for an allowance like some tradwife. You want some pocket money of your own. Thus, the part-time job at the ASDA in town.

You're a people person, good at handling big personalities. You need to be to keep up with your boys. Between John's need for control, Simon's stoic dominance, Johnny's aggressive enthusiasm, and Kyle's blinding charisma, you aren't some shrinking violet. Within a week of your hire, your manager watches how you weather a nasty piece of work trying to demand concessions you aren't permitted to give and immediately puts you in customer service.

You're nearly unflappable in the face of frustrated pensioners and harried parents and entitled young professionals. Over and over, you're the one they call when a customer is going spare. Which is how your boys find out about your job.

They've been deployed for over two weeks, and you have no idea when they'll return. John had originally said they'd be gone for at least a month, so you aren't expecting them home any time soon. However, they'd come home much earlier than anyone thought, and they wanted to surprise you.

You're always so good about making the house feel like a home, with your bright smile and warm laughter, your home cooked food and soft touches in decor. You make them feel like people, not weapons, and they want to return the favor. This last deployment had been hard, and all four of your boys were missing your sweet voice and tender care. They wanted to show you that they loved and cared for you the way you always showed your love and care for them.

It was Johnny's suggestion to prep a meal for you as both a surprise and a thank you. After debrief, they pile into the car and decide to stop at ASDA for everything they need before heading home to surprise you. It's John who causes the code call.

You hear Susan's voice over the store-wide address system. "We could use a little Sunshine in the floral department." That's your cue. You finish with the pensioner at your till as Jacob, your manager, comes over to relieve you.

You take a deep breath and square your shoulders. In your experience, a Sunshine call in floral is a man angry the store doesn't have the fancy arrangements listed on the website. You wish the signage on the site would be more clear that the beautiful bouquets are online orders only. It would save you having to explain why the offers in store are so limited.

You hear him before you see him, smokey voice grumbling, "But if they show the bloody thing on the site as available, you should have it hear." You'd recognize the voice anywhere. He's not angry, not really, but Susan doesn't know that. Add in the sheer size of him, and Simon looming over his shoulder, it's no wonder she called for support.

You have never wanted to walk away from a situation as much as you want to right now, but before you can make an escape, Susan notices you over John's shoulder. Her little wave is enough for your men to notice, and they turn as one to see you coming towards them. Immediately their demeanor shifts. Simon's back sags as though his strings were cut, leaving him loose-limbed. John stands a little straighter, chin up as if to impress you. They've both broken out in smiles, though Simon's are only evidenced by the laugh lines you know to look for. It's only as you get close do they zero in on the badge on your shirt.

"I've got this, Susan," you say to your co-worker. "Jacob's on my till. Can you cover?"

Susan wrings her hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and-"

"They're nothing I can't handle," you tell her, cutting off her worried rambles. There's a cheeky glint in your eye as you flick your gaze at your men. You clap your hands together and say, "Right, let's get this settled, then."

Susan takes one quick look between you and the now slightly less intimidating men and heads towards the front of the store.

Once she's out of earshot, John's face breaks into a frown. "What're you doing here, love?" He glances at your name on your chest again. "You work here?" He sounds almost hurt by the revelation. You can tell Simon wants to reach for you, and the only thing stopping him is you working.

You hear heavy footfalls behind you as Johnny's Scottish lilt reaches your ears. "Och, Cap! Ye said ye'd only be a moment. Gaz and I had a hell of a time getting the trolley on its lift ta find ye. How hard is it to buy bon..." His question dies on his lips as you turn around. "Bonnie?" He, too, sounds hurt to find you working here.

You can see Kyle over Johnny's shoulder, confusion written across his features. This is not how you wanted your boys to find out about your job, if you ever wanted them to actually find out. You thought maybe you'd surprise them with tickets to Hereford FC's opening game in a few months. And if they asked how you afforded them, you could handle this conversation then, but it's out of your hands now.

And as much as you don't want to have this conversation, especially not in the middle of the floral department, you can't stop the wide grin at seeing your boys again, home and whole.

"Hi, boys," you say, opening your arms. Disappointed he might be about finding you here, Johnny's no fool. He immediately steps into your embrace, and the others quickly follow suit. You're swallowed up by the smell and feel of them. The hug lasts one minute. Then two. Then they all slowly step back.

You can see the questions and cut them off before they get started. "I have another three hours before I'm off. We can talk at home, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

John nods first. He recognizes your tone. You won't let them derail you for answers now, and they would be wasting their breath to try. "You heard the lady, lads. Let's get home."

They start to walk away when you tease, "Captain? Was there a reason you were arguing with Susan about the flowers?"

He halts his steps and turns to you, flush creeping up his neck. He brings his hand up to rub it as he says, "Er, I, we, wanted to get ya something nice, but they don't have the same ones as online."

You melt a little, watching the way your men shift nervously behind their captain. You smile softly and reach over, plucking a bouquet of rainbow poms from the rack. "These are what I usually get for myself when you're away."

John takes them gently from your hand and passes them to Gaz to put in the trolley. "We'll see you at home, love," he murmurs, leaning over briefly to kiss your cheek. Simon kisses the top of your head, fabric brushing your hair. Johnny pulls you in for another bruising hug and kisses your other cheek. Gaz puts his hands on your waist, drinking in the sight of you, before taking your hands in his and kissing your palms.

You watch them leave, wondering how you'll make it through the rest of your shift.

Three hours and fifteen minutes later, you cross the threshold of your shared home to the most delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. After slipping your shoes off next to the piles of boots at the door, you follow your nose back to the kitchen and the spread laid out on the large wood-topped island. There's a roast and mushy peas and mashed potatoes and stewed carrots and battered cod and crisps and spinach all surrounding the flowers you'd suggested, nestled in the vase you love most, the Caithness one Johnny'd bought you on your first trip with them to Scotland.

At the table, your men sit, plates made for everyone, waiting on you. They've changed since you saw them. Gone are any traces of fatigues and tactical gear. Instead they're all in casual civvies, truly home for the first time in nearly three weeks. Simon stands as you come in and pulls out your chair, smile on his scarred lips. "Come sit, doll," he tells you, not quite an order.

You look quickly around. "Let me change," you say, tugging at your uniform top. "I won't be but a minute." You back out of the room before they can stop you. You hurry to your bedroom, pulling your top off as you go. Once behind the door, you slip from your trousers into comfortable leggings and a large jumper, one of Kyle's you think.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen, your men are more than a little antsy. Simon's smile is a little strained, Johnny is fidgeting, Kyle keeps glancing between you and John, and John is staring at you. Your chair is still out. He waves a hand at it, and gently says, "Come sit, love." It's couched as request, but you know a command from your lover when you hear it.

You take your seat at the table. "Listen-" you start, but John cuts you off.

"Are we not providing for ya, love?" You see the hurt in his eyes, how much it bothers him to think he, they, aren't doing enough for you.

"Oh, John, dear, no!" you reply, putting your hand over his on the table. "It's not that at all."

"Then what?" Simon asks.

You look at them all, the expectant faces waiting to hear how they failed you. "I get restless sometimes. I love you, and I love our life. I'm happy to take care of the house and make sure you're all fed after a long day. But I wasn't built for sitting around doing nothing. I like people; being home on my own all day can get lonely. Especially when you're deployed. I also like having my own pocket money."

John opens his mouth, and you know what he's about to say, so you continue. "I know you'd give me any money I need or want, but I like having my money. Money I earned myself." You look around at them, willing them to understand. "It's only part time. Helps me keep a little busy and have a little extra to spoil you and me with."

Johnny is frowning, but you see Kyle, head cocked, looking at you as a puzzle. "I think I understand," he says softly. "You were making you way just fine before us, and you gave up everything for us."

At his words, the crease between John's brow deepens, and you're sure he's remembering the job you had, that you'd somewhat enjoyed, when you'd first met them. You'd been working at RAF Lakenheath, living in a cozy flat in Cambridge, near The Backs, when the 141 had been coming through the base after an op. An injury had put Kyle in the med center for a week, and while he could have been transported to Hereford once stable, Laswell had worked it out for the whole team to have some R&R near the base.

You'd quite literally run into John one day, rushing to your office, after which he suggested lunch as an apology. You quickly became close with all four, smitten with them from the start. In turn, they fell hard for you. They wooed you over the course of several weeks, stopping through Lakenheath on deployments to spend some time with you. Six months in and you were completely gone on all four of them, so when they'd asked you to move to Hereford, you did without ever looking back. But it meant giving up the life you'd led.

Somewhere along the way, your happiness overshadowed all you'd left behind. After a few weeks, being home alone while your men worked started to feel isolating. You liked being a little busy, and there weren't enough projects around the house to keep you busy enough. You'd always been independent, but you didn't want to be stuck in a job with long hours anymore. You wanted to be home for your men. So you'd found the job at ASDA.

Kyle reaches over to where you hand is still on John's. "I'm sorry we didn't ask how you were coping us being gone all day," he says. He looks you in the eye as he continues. "I understand wanting to do something, wanting to be a little busy, and if this makes you happy, then I'm all for it, doll." He gives you a small smile and squeezes your and John's hand.

"Gaz is right," Simon rumbles. "We were so happy to have you here we didn't think about what you did all alone all day." He puts a heavy hand on your thigh, the warmth of him seeping through your thin leggings. "'m glad you have something to keep you from getting lonely."

"Sorry, hen," Johnny murmurs, just above a whisper. "We didnae think a' ye enough." You smile widely at him.

"Johnny, you think of me all the time. This isn't about neglect at all!" You try to catch his eye, but he's looking hard at the table in front of him. "You did nothing wrong, love," you tell him gently.

He looks at you, blue eyes bright. "Ye sure?" You've never seen him this nervous before, and you break a little.

"I'm sure love."

He smiles then, a little smile, but it brightens his face and shifts the mood in the room. You look at John who's been surprisingly quiet this whole time.

He's smiling, but it's a little sad. "I know ya said we didn't do anything wrong, but we feel like we did. We didn't notice you were bored, didn't ask if you were lonely." He flips his hand over under yours and threads your fingers with his. "Yer giving us a gift by not blaming us, and we'd be stupid not to take it, even though it feels like yer giving us an out. Thank you." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

"Thank you. I was worried you'd be mad," you admit.

"Never could make us mad with something like this, hen," Johnny reassures you. "I'm sorry we had to spoil your day is all."

You turn back to look at the food on the island. "You didn't spoil my day. You made it. You're home early, and you made such a lovely spread. I think we should tuck in, yeah?"

Simon chuckles. "Point made, doll," he says, scooping a heaping helping of mash onto his fork. The rest take it as a sign to start eating too.

The room is silent save for the sounds of food savored until John pipes up, "Why'd ya come to florals, love? We might have missed ya altogether if not for that."

You giggle. "The sunshine call, John."

"Yeah?" He clearly doesn't understand.

"It's the shop call for a difficult customer. When I'm on shift, it's my job to handle those." You look at each of your lovers in turn. "Seems I've got a knack for dealing with muppets," you tell them with a smirk.

main masterlist

[melanchol1cs]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | wips

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[justarkive]

MAGIC | jeon jungkook

pairing : jungkook x f!reader

genre: smut smut smut , angsty ? minimal fluff tbh 18+

warnings: nudity, infidelity, swearing, cheating, jk is such a dick and so is oc tbh! (i do NOT support these actions lol)

smut warnings: jerking off, unprotected but not p in v, mean jk during sex, grinding, choking ¿ nipple + boobies play, i hate warnings sm pls lmk if ive missed any lol

wc: i have no idea how to check im so srry

this fic does not reflect the real jungkook/other members involved and is simply fiction!

A/N: this is my first fanfic guysss!!! pls pls pls dont b afraid to lmk what you think, idk if ill make a pt2 but if anyone even reads then i might! im not too sure if i like this myself though!! also not proofread sorry about any mistakes!!! ill stfu now!!

read part 2 here: MAGIC pt II

read my other work here: masterlist

It’s raining today, and you can’t help but shuffle your legs around under your blanket, gravitating towards the miniscule warmth that he had left there last night. That manly, musky scent clutches onto the fibres of your silk sheets. Though your not sure if its just burned into your memory, with your desperation for a small slither of his essence convincing you its still all over your sheets.

The rain patters against the window the same way it did when he was here, when you’d had reconnected, the sheets were still rumpled in the way he was laying there, only the candles which had given up within the night and him were no longer there.

Its cyclical, comical, hilarious. He’ll come, plushie in hand and a stupid grin on his face asking to, in Jeon Jungkooks word’s: chill. Then you’d tangle up in your sheets, he’d call his girlfriend saying he’s caught up with work, and leave before you wake up.

It’s pitiful for you, and you cant help but laugh at yourself every morning.

Eventually realizing that there is stuff to be done, your legs are thrown off your bed and you mewl while rubbing your eyes, a quick glance to the mirror beside you gives you a clear view of your bare body. Your knees are bruised and there are hickeys all over your neck.

You guess its time to go mormon style.

———

You ignore the comments from your fellow workers asking what the fuck you have on right now. This morning, the sulk session lasted an hour too long resulting in you turning up late to work in a bright red turtleneck and leggings. Your day went by quick, your boss giving you the simple tasks of cleaning tables and restocking the display fridge.

But with an hour of your shift, you’d realised you spoke too soon when you see an all too familiar tattooed hand swinging in your peripheral vision.

Your heart is literally in your stomach, swimming in the acid once you also realise he is not alone and she is with him.

Shes clutching onto his hands like a koala, hair curled and face rubbing against his chest. For now, he hasn’t seen you, and you really fucking hope he do-

“__?”

Shit.

Immediately, you scuffle around, dropping the mop you were using to clean up one of your regular’s coffee spills. Sending him an awkward nod and smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, you bend down to grab it, quickly coming back up mentally preparing yourself for this awkward interaction coming.

“Jung-kook… what are you doing here?” Annoyed since he’s chosen here out of all places to get coffee with his girlfriend. You make sure to keep your noise level down, considering she’s ordering just a couple feet away.

He smirks at you, taking the mop from your hands and twirling it around. Classic Jeon Jungkook, cocky bastard.

“What? I cant get coffee with my girl?” You roll your eyes, trying to cover up the fact he’s casually talking about his girl dosent make you feel like hes sharpened the mop and stabbed it through your stomach.

“Yeah? Add: coming to the workplace of the girl you fuck behind her back to that.”

You both immediately shut up when you hear a clacking of heels coming your way, Jungkook giving you an eyeroll whilst handing you your mop.

“__! Its great to see you, how have you been? I see your still working here, what happened to getting a better job?”

Eunbi. Arrogant, cocky, bitch! You seriously dont know how he puts up with her.

“Actually Eunbi im still studying before i get a better job, and if your so interested, Im sure Jungkook can tell you all about it, i have stuff to do, enjoy your food.” I hope they poisoned it.

For some context, You and Eunbi met first through your brother since they being in the same social circle, she quickly became good friends with him. Eventually, she got kicked out of her college dorm and moved in with you and Taehyung for a bit.

Then she starting bringing Jungkook there.

Jungkook and Tae then got really close, which led to him sometimes coming over without Eunbi and well… The rest is obvious.

Your situation with Jungkook happened one night when you, him and Tae got really drunk. He’d passed out on your bed and you refused to sleep on your brother’s. Innocent brushes of skin led to heavy makeout sesh’s and then the ripping of condoms.

The reason you hate Eunbi so much was because she invaded your space, even before she’d gotten with Jungkook, she’d treat you and Tae as if you were her personal maids which is what eventually led you to saving your money and getting a small student flat a few minutes away from yours and Tae’s apartment. Now, he lives with Jungkook and Eunbi.

Before you’d moved out, you had a serious talk with Taehyung insisting that she’d pay the rent once you’d left and to no longer be leeching off of him. With a sad goodbye, he’d promised you it wouldn’t happen ever again.

———

Its 9:00pm, after a shit-show day at work you seriously need some junk food in your system to make some part of you feel good. You procrastinate for a minute, the couch feeling far too warm to get up and grab your phone, but a knock on the door has you getting onto your feet quickly.

You already know who it is, but you check the peephole before opening. Safety first, duh!

A large, doe-eye is taking up your viewpoint. Making silly faces to the door as if he knows you’re looking… (he does.)

A part of you imagines what would happen if you just didn’t open the door. You cant help but feel the pangs of guilt every time he comes over, but whatever magic spell he’s casted on you has got you twisting your keys around and welcoming him in… The spell being a bag of takeout of course!

“I guessed you were hungry since you left your shift late, also Eunbi wont get off my back, She wants me home before 12:00, told her I was meeting up with friends.”

Huh. Explains why he’s so dressed up. You arent complaining though, the double denim is seriously doing something to you right now.

You bite your lip before contemplating what your about to say to him, worse that can happen is you he’ll storm out and the dick appointment will then be cancelled.

“It’s still a miracle how we get away with this shit, Kook. Why don’t you just leave her? You know she treats you like shit.”

You straighten the shoes he removes off his feet by your door before following him to your kitchen where he takes a seat on the island. His jaw clenches for a mere second before he looks at you before scoffing.

“And get beat up by your brother? No thanks. __ Im not having this conversation tonight, so just eat.” Opening the bag of takeaway, he pulls out a box for you and for him.

“Im being serious Jungkook, the more we keep fucking around like this the more likely we’re both getting beat up! And your excuses? They’re getting shitter by the minute.”

“Tell me __, are you asking to stop this?” He’s motioning his fingers between you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“W-what? Im not-“ Stepping out of his chair, hes coming towards you and before you know it, hes tilting your chin up and boring into your eyes with a grin.

“Spit it out, baby.”

You take a hold of his hand, shoving it off of your face and willing yourself to speak up. “Kook- stop. This is seriously not right, we cant do this any lon-“

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. And just like always, you give in. Kissing back, yet when he pulls away ever so slightly you find yourself whispering against his lips about how much you cant do this.

But like clockwork, you end up on the kitchen counter with one of his hands in your pyjama shorts and his tatted hand around your neck.

Your mewling in his mouth when his fingers finally slip into your soaked panties and start rubbing your clit. He pulls back and chuckles when you chase his lips.

“C’mon baby, tell me, you wanna stop? Cause this pussy’s telling me something else,”

And for some reason, you tell him you do.

You immediately regret it when his hands leave your panties. The warmth which was from his breath fanning on your face and his hands around your neck is suddenly replaced by air which feels far colder than usual.

Something in Jung-kook’s demeanour seems to have changed, he seems almost, mad?

“Alright, I wanted to be nice to you tonight baby, but it seems like you wanna be a brat, and so be it, strip.”

Jeon Jungkook and his damn magic.

Your camisole and shorts are on the floor in seconds, he’s watching you intently. Casually leaning his hands against the counter behind him. Tatted fingers unzip his jeans, pulling out his semi hardened cock giving it a few languid strokes before taking a few steps before he’s towering over you again.

Your hand reaches for his dick, but he stops you. “Wha-“

“Sit on the counter.”

“But its cold! Ah!” Your protest was useless, his arms effortlessly picking you up and plopping you on the counter. The cold marble chills your ass cheeks before he’s spreading your legs apart and staring at your pussy. Like this, a wave of embarrassment washes over you from the feeling of being exposed and you instinctively try to close your legs, but his iron fucking grip on your thighs makes sure that’s not happening.

“You’re gonna sit there, with a wet fucking pussy, and watch me jerk off, and then i’m gonna cum on it. Im gonna cum on it and if you’re good, i’ll consider fucking it into you after.” He seethes, dropping his jeans to his knees and fisting his cock rapidly in front of your pussy.

You mentally scream at yourself to never pull this shit again, cause the sight of his wet cock being jerked off by the same hand that was in your pussy makes you leak out even more onto the counters. Youre subconsciously grinding your hips into the air, whimpering cause your so touch deprived and watching Jeon Jungkook Jerk off in front of you was seriously not helping.

Suddenly, hes pulling you off the counter and turning you around. You squeal while preparing for the intrusion of his cock however you feel it being jerked between your ass cheeks and you ultimately just wanna scream.

“Please, Kook I- i need-“ His hands come around to your neck, applying pressure to it, the other travelling to your tits and squeezing them.

“Fuck.” His lips press against your ear as hes sloppily licking and kissing your earlobes, pinching your nipples and moaning right into your fucking brain. “Im gonna come fuck.”

Immediately, you turn around, getting back onto the counter with his help, his moans increase in volume as he jerks off his angry cock faster and faster in his fist, before suddenly hes pressing his lips to yours and moaning louder than ever tonight and cumming all over your pussy.

You moan into his mouth, watching lines of cum stream onto your stomach and down to your ass, revelling in the slight stimulation you get from the warmth of his cum on your long forgotten clit.

“Please.” You’re begging, on the verge of tears. You sloppily kiss his lips, frantically sucking on them and grinding against his still hard cock to the best of your ability in this position before a phone ringing in his jeans pocket interrupts.

You frown, seriously hoping its not who you think it is.

“Wait baby, let me jus-“

“Please, Kook”

He picks up the phone regardless, “Baby?”

The re-use of the pet name has your stomach twisting in regret. “Yeah? Are you okay?… Eun-… I’ll be home in 10.”

His phone is placed back down onto the counter, “Are you seriously leaving?”

He looks at you for a long time, his own heart twisting at how your eyes have suddenly gotten glossier. “You know i can’t stay after she’s called me, and it’s almost 12, baby. Tomorrow?”

He says it so fucking casually it makes you blink back your tears and pick up your soiled panties off the floor. You quickly move behind him to pack the takeaway back into the bag, as he watches in confusion.

“__? What are you doing?”

“Just leave, Kook.” You try your hardest to ignore the feeling of his cum sandwiched between your folds and panties, but its like a constant reminder that Jeon Jungkook will always be there.

He’s throwing his jeans on and gives you one last look before walking to your door. “Im sorry. Ill text you,”

You don’t say anything, stretching your arm out to give him the takeaway, “You don’t want it?”

“No, I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Im sorry, __”

You exchange one more glance at him standing in your doorway before closing it, realising that he’s going home and it wont be with you.

—

That night, you spend an hour on your shower floor, the cum washed away and long forgotten in the drains.

That morning, you will reply to Jeon Jungkook when he messages you.

Him and his damn magic.

[honeytonedhottie]

starting ur fitness girlie era⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌷

starting ur fitness girlie era is actually super easy! its consistency and discipline where most ppl struggle. i hope this post can help make the sustenance of ur fitness girlie era super easy and fun + some fun working out resources to start ✨

FOR CLARITY ;

when starting anything, the most important thing, although cliche is starting from a place of love rather then hate. it feels better and is more sustainable in the long run.

be clear on your goals for ur fitness girlie era. is this something that u wanna maintain in ur day to day life for general health? do you wanna gain/lose some weight? do you just wanna be stronger?

knowing what ur trying to achieve makes finding workouts that target your goal specifically more easy (the more specific the better)

WHERE DOES NUTRITION COME INTO PLAY ;

you should be fueling ur body properly in order for ur body to function well when ur in ur fitness girlie era. if ur goal for example is to gain weight but u notice that u have a habit to eat very little, make a log.

WIEIAD LOG (NUTRITION CONTINUED) ;

i started a what i eat in a day log for a couple reasons. one bcuz i love lists and documenting things about myself, and two bcuz i wanted to make sure that i was eating well and eating good quality foods. bcuz i notice that when i eat well -> i feel well.

eat to fuel your body, dont eat just to eat

include fresh foods

make sure that you eat healthy portions (calling four almonds a meal is NOT healthy, and calling six pizza pies a meal is NOT healthy)

overall just be mindful of what u decide to fuel your body with. an easy drink that helps to be mindful with what u fuel ur body with is with SMOOTHIES.

im so sick of ppl sleeping on smoothies cuz if u dont like to directly eat vegetables or if u want an easy way to intake fresh fruits and veggies smoothies are the way to GO.

ROMANTICIZATION ;

the fun part of the whole journey, romanticization. made a pinterest board for ur fitness journey aesthetic and make it super pretty. invest in cute workout clothes to motivate urself to workout.

formulate a playlist for ur workout, something that gives u energy and motivates you. find a workout class or a youtube channel that you love. dont make working out BORING. get a workout buddy, make some video diary entries about working out/ur workout for the day.

make a blog that records whatever workout that u did. find fun ways to work out, like dancing or going on hot girl walks. create an atmosphere where u can work out and treat the time that u spend working out as a time to nurture and nourish your body.

PATIENCE AND PERSISTENCE ;

motivation isnt going to get u through a sustainable fitness girl journey, motivation can only get you so far. its DISCIPLINE that gets you the results that you want and consistency.

be patient with yourself even if u fall off ur routine and grind, ur only human so let yourself live. as long as you dont make falling off a habit, you'll be okay.

make sure that u emphasize the mind -> body connection bcuz thats super important. working out is not just about working up a sweat; it's about connecting with your body and embracing the mind-body connection.

FUN AND EFFECTIVE WAYS TO WORKOUT ;

le sserafim workout - i've done the le sserafim workout once or twice and it absolutely destroyed me 💀 but in a good way. its challenging but its also rly effective so i recommend.

dancing - if ur into dancing, find a way of dancing that u enjoy to do. some examples include ; ballet, kpop dances, jazz etc

join a sport - join a sport with a friend to make it more fun! but theres lots of different sports that u can play and not only is it good for ur health, but its also super fun

[montimer]

Full masked mark x reader

Gn!reader, comfort, bit smutty at the end but not the actual stuff

with that little screen time he has its hard to guess but hope i wrote him okay

Finding an universe where you're still alive, take you back to his, that was the idea. Unknown to him in here you were only best friends with Mark. And had no idea who the creep was flying outside of your window.

Backing away from the stranger that just showed up uninvited. He tries to explain, not stepping too close. His heart aches, seeing you so afraid of him.

You noticed how different he is from the other variants. He almost seemed, sad? You weren't sure, what if this is an act? He sounds like Mark but its hard to tell with the mask, this isn't the Mark from your universe, that at least is clear to you.

But hearing his voice crack, seeing how he tries to keep a safe distance for you, well you can't help but feel awful.

Finally giving in you step closer to him, trying to give some comfort. He goes quiet, listening to your sweet voice. Its a pleasant surprise for him, to hear your voice that isn't filled with fear.

"Mark?" You call out to him. Reaching your hand but not enough to touch him.

He quickly filles the distance between the two of you. Hugging you close. You recognize him right? You said his name, you still love him? Is what he wanted to say but only sobs came out.

He missed you so bad. He just couldn't let you go now, afraid that you'll slip away from his graps, never to be seen again.

One hand on your back, the other around your waist, holding you close. His head is laying on your chest.

You didn't even had time to react. Your heart beating fast. He could feel it. It made him squeeze you even closer.

Your hands slowly come up to wrap them back around him. Caressing his back. Just what could have happened to him?

Feeling you give the affection back made him sob harder but also soften his hold on you. He snuggled into your neck. Chanting "I love you" and "I missed you".

Relived, you sighted, getting a bit of space to breath. Not wanting to turn down his affection, you bring yourself to gasp out an "I love you too". Hoping to calm him down.

It was like a rock falling off his chest. He looked up at you. You could only see blue googles staring at you.

He gently put his head to yours, his forehead touching yours.

"I- im going to take you back. But i need to make sure the others won't find you, okay love?" He managed to say in a shaky voice.

"What?" You had no idea what he was talking about.

"Im going to find mom, then we can all go back and-" he looked down. Was he scaring you again? Did he sound too selfish?

You tried to push him away, and that broke his heart.

He pulled you back, too easily for your liking. He was so strong, still his grip on you didn't hurt as bad as it should.

"Please,don't-" he sounded like he was about to cry again. You let him hug you once again. This time in a way you couldn't see his face at all. Only feeling his hard breathes on the back of your neck.

Too distracted by your own confusion, you failed the notice when he pulled his mask up to his noise and planted a kiss on your neck.

You felt your cheeks become red.

"You always loved that" only then does it become clear to you. Were you lovers with him in another universe?

He slowly moved in, hoping you won't back away. And when you didn't he quickly closed in, kissing you.

You made a "mm?!" sound and he moaned into your mouth. He really missed this. He began to leave loving kisses all over your face. All of this happening made you extremely flustered.

You guessed he won't leave for a pretty long time.

[the-winter-spider]

The Alchemy | Part One

NFL Bucky x reader au

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, fluff,

A/N: I only have one more chapter of Invisible to post so ima get this new series out there. I plan to alternate with this one and Say Don Go! Also im Canadian, ive never watched football in my life before Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce so bare with me, Im a hockey girl 😇🤣

ALSO WOW another ts inspired fic what are the odds lmaoooo

------

The stadium buzzed with energy, every seat packed with fans decked out in the team’s deep blue and silver. Flags waved, chants echoed, and the floodlights bathed the field in an electric glow. The scoreboard flashed 20-24. Fourth quarter. Six seconds left on the clock.

Bucky Barnes stood on the field, his cleats dug into the turf as his breath came in steady bursts. His number 17 jersey clung to him, streaked with sweat and dirt, but his focus was absolute. Across from him, defenders crouched low, their eyes locked on him. Everyone in the stadium knew where the ball was going. The golden boy, the clutch player, the one who could pull miracles out of thin air.

At the line of scrimmage, Steve Rogers—number 18, the quarterback—barked out commands, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “Green 18! Green 18! Set!” His hand hovered under center, waiting for the snap.

Next to Steve, Sam Wilson—number 78, the running back—grinned as he looked to his left. “Hope you’re ready to make me look good, Barnes,” Sam called to Bucky, his voice tinged with a mix of adrenaline and humor.

Bucky smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “Always am, Wilson. Try to keep up.”

The ball snapped.

Time slowed, the roar of the stadium dimming to a dull hum in Bucky’s ears. He exploded off the line of scrimmage, his legs pumping as he darted past the first defender. His route was a perfectly calculated arc, his sharp cut leaving his opponent scrambling in his wake.

Steve dropped back, his eyes scanning the field, calm and composed as chaos erupted around him. The offensive line was holding—barely. Sam sprinted out to the right, dragging a defender with him and creating just enough space for Bucky to hit his mark.

“Buck!” Steve’s shout was clear, even over the thunder of the crowd. The ball left his hands in a perfect spiral, arcing high into the night.

Bucky didn’t slow. He kept his eyes on the ball as it sailed through the air, his body moving on instinct. A defender lunged at him, but he sidestepped, his cleats digging into the turf and propelling him forward. Another defender was closing in, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Bucky leaped, his arms stretching to meet it. For a split second, the stadium seemed to hold its breath. His fingertips brushed the leather, and then the ball was in his hands, secured against his chest as he crashed to the ground in the end zone.

The buzzer sounded.

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, the stands a blur of jumping fans and waving flags. Bucky pushed himself to his feet, the ball still clutched tightly in his hands. His teammates swarmed him, slapping his back and tugging at his jersey.

“Hell of a catch, Buck!” Steve shouted, pulling Bucky into a quick hug, his grin as wide as the field.

“Couldn’t have done it without that throw,” Bucky replied, though his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sam jogged over, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Man, you’re gonna make the rest of us look bad if you keep pulling off plays like that.”

“Just doing my job,” Bucky quipped, though his voice carried a hint of weariness.

The cameras swarmed, capturing every second of the celebration. Bucky turned, tossing the ball to an equipment manager as he ran a hand through his damp hair. He offered a practiced smile to the crowd, raising his hand in a quick wave. The adrenaline still pounded through his veins, but underneath it all, he felt…empty. Moments like this used to mean everything. Now, they were just another show.

----

You stood just behind the sidelines, your camera in hand as you captured the final seconds of the game. The stadium’s energy was almost overwhelming, but you kept your focus, snapping shot after shot as the ball spiraled through the air. The lens followed Bucky, capturing the moment his fingertips grazed the ball and the exact second he pulled it to his chest.

Your thumb hovered over the record button as he hit the ground in the end zone, the buzzer blaring through the stadium. The noise was deafening, but you barely noticed, too focused on capturing the raw emotion of the moment—his teammates rushing to him, the grin splitting Steve’s face, Sam throwing his hands in the air as he jogged over.

Through the lens, you could see every detail: the streaks of dirt on Bucky’s jersey, the intensity in his eyes, the way he stood a little apart from the celebration even as he was surrounded by his team. You lowered the camera for a moment, watching as he turned to wave at the crowd, that effortless smile on his face.

There was something surreal about seeing him like this, so different yet so familiar, especially after all these years. The golden boy of the NFL, the star of every highlight reel, and yet…still Bucky. You just wondered what he would think if he knew you were tasked with covering his team for the duration of the season.

-----

The press room buzzed with energy as reporters jostled for position, shoving microphones and cameras toward the front. Bucky sat at the table, effortlessly commanding the room. His jersey clung to him, still damp with sweat, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his easy smile lighting up the space.

“Bucky, talk us through that final play!” one reporter called out.

Bucky smirked, shaking his head. “It’s not just me. That was all teamwork. The guys up front gave me the space, and Stevie threw a perfect pass, I just had to do my part.”

“Just your part?” another reporter pressed. “That was your second game-winning catch this season and it just started! You’re making it look easy out there.”

“Well,” Bucky replied, flashing a quick grin, “it’s never easy, i’ve just got a great team behind me. We work hard for moments like that.”

More questions came, volleying back and forth. He answered them all with polished charm, his practiced media persona never faltering. But as the questions wore on, his gaze started to wander, skimming over the sea of faces and microphones. That’s when he saw you, his blue eyes did a double take before confusion and shock swam through them.

You were standing off to the side, not pushing to the front like the others. You weren’t yelling over the noise or angling for the best shot. You were just…there. Scribbling something into your notebook, head ducked slightly as if you wanted to disappear into the crowd.

Bucky froze for a fraction of a second, the polished grin faltering for the briefest moment before he caught himself. His heart stuttered in his chest, a wave of recognition crashing over him. He blinked, his brain scrambling to catch up. No way. It couldn’t be.

You were trying to stay out of the fray while still capturing the scene. Your notebook was a familiar weight in your hands, its pages filling with shorthand notes that you’d polish later. It was your way of staying grounded—your way of not staring too long at him.

The boy you’d grown up with. The boy who used to challenge you to races down your block, who teased you mercilessly, who knew all your secrets. Seeing him now, years later, as the NFL’s star receiver, felt surreal. He’d become everything the world expected him to be. And yet, in some strange way, he was still the same.

You ducked your head lower, scribbling furiously to avoid the wave of memories threatening to crash over you. Focus. Professional. Objective. That was your mantra when you’d taken this assignment. You hadn’t even known it would be his team until you arrived. Now, all you wanted was to finish your notes and leave to compose yourself fully before he could notice you.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on you, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the game he’d just played. He said your name softly, testing it on his lips. It felt foreign and familiar all at once. You didn’t react—too far away, too focused on your notes.

“Hey, Bucky!” another reporter called out. “What’s your mindset going into the rest of the season?”

He barely heard the question. His focus was entirely on you now, watching as you slipped your notebook into your bag and adjusted the strap over your shoulder. You were leaving.

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbled to the reporter, not bothering to look at them. “I need to…” He trailed off, standing abruptly.

The room went silent for a moment, the reporters exchanging confused glances. “Bucky, are you—?”

“Yeah, uh, excuse me,” he muttered, already moving. He left the table, ignoring the murmurs that followed as the cameras swung to track his movements.

His heart stuttered.

“Y/N?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din. He blinked, half-convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. He tried again, louder this time. “Y/N?”

You didn’t look up.

----

The late summer air clung to your skin, thick and still, like it was trying to hold you in this moment forever. The roof beneath you was rough and familiar, each crack in the shingles a memory. Nights like this always felt infinite—just you and Bucky under the stars, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight, that comforting rhythm was broken.

You sat side by side, the glow of the streetlights catching in Bucky’s messy hair. He leaned back on his elbows, that cocky grin you knew so well plastered across his face. “So,” he said, breaking the silence, “you wanna go to prom with me next year? You know, as friends or whatever.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, but it sounded hollow even to you. “Prom’s not for another year, Bucky. Don’t tell me you’re turning into a planner now.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, the grin widening, his confidence practically radiating. “I like to lock down the good ones early.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light shove, but your hand lingered on his arm for just a second longer than it should have. He felt it. He always felt it.

“Alright,” he said, his grin fading as he sat up straighter, his piercing blue eyes narrowing in concern. “What’s going on? You’ve been weird all night.”

Your fingers twisted together in your lap, your gaze dropping to the shingles. The words felt too heavy to say, but they burned in your chest. You couldn’t keep them in any longer.

“I’m moving.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. It stretched between you like the whole world had opened up, and all you could do was stare into the void. When you finally looked at him, his expression was blank, unreadable. That cocky smile you’d always known so well—it was just gone.

“You’re lying,” he said, his voice low, almost like a challenge.

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “I wish I was.”

His brows furrowed, the disbelief quickly turning into something sharper. “Why?” he asked, leaning closer. “You don’t have to go. You’re almost eighteen—just stay.”

“Bucky—”

“No, listen to me,” he cut you off, his words coming fast now, his tone filled with something you rarely heard from him: fear. “You could stay here. My ma wouldn’t care. Hell, she’d love it. You could move into the basement. You practically live at my house anyway. No one would even notice. You don’t have to go.”

The desperation in his voice broke something in you. You had known it would hurt, but seeing him like this—Bucky, who was always so strong, so steady—was unbearable.

“I can’t stay,” you said softly, the words barely more than a whisper. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Why not?” His voice cracked as he sat up fully, his hands curling into fists against the roof. “Am I not enough for you to stay?” He knew he was being selfish but he was so blind sided he couldn't help it.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. Your breath caught, and you had to blink hard to keep your vision from blurring. “Fuck, Bucky,” you whispered. “Of course, you’re enough. You’re my best friend. You’re everything. But my mom…” Your voice broke, and you had to take a deep breath before continuing. “She’s finally leaving him. Bucky, we’re finally getting out.”

His jaw clenched, and his chest rose and fell unevenly as he processed your words. His hands gripped the edge of the roof like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “Your mom…” he started, his voice trailing off. Of course, he was happy for her. He knew what it had taken for her to finally leave that asshole. He’d seen the bruises you never talked about, the way your voice would falter when you mentioned home. Of course, he understood.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less. She was taking you away from him, and he couldn’t stand it. "What about school? We have one more year left."

"They have schools everywhere Buck..." Your voice was soft and quiet.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The night stretched on, heavy and endless. You thought he might fight you on it again, throw out another plan, another reason for you to stay. But instead, he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“Well,” he said, his voice sharp and hollow, “I guess this is it then.”

“Bucky, don’t do this,” you pleaded, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “Please.”

He stood up slowly, brushing off his hands like he was trying to shake off the weight of your words. His expression was unreadable now, his eyes cold and distant in a way you’d never seen before.

“It was nice while it lasted,” he said, his voice clipped and emotionless. He paused at the edge of the roof, looking back at you one last time. “Hey, take care of yourself, alright?”

And then he climbed down the ladder, disappearing into the shadows below.

You didn’t call after him—you couldn’t. You just sat there on the roof, staring at the place where he’d been, your heart breaking under the weight of his absence. For the first time, the stars felt impossibly far away.

That was the last time you ever talked to Bucky Barnes.

----

You were halfway down the hallway, your footsteps echoing softly in the empty space, when you heard him.

“Y/N!”

You froze, halfway down the hallway. The voice was unmistakable now—stronger, sharper, but undeniably his. Slowly, you turned, and there he was, jogging toward you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. His broad shoulders filled the space, but it was his eyes—wide and almost boyish—that sent your heart racing.

“Is this really you?” he asked, stopping just a few feet away. His chest rose and fell as if he’d just run the length of the field. His gaze swept over you, disbelief and something like relief flickering across his face.

You laughed nervously, a sound that came out more like a breathless exhale. “I didn’t think you’d recognize me.”

Bucky’s lips parted in a huff of incredulous laughter. “Are you kidding? I could find you in any room.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Before you could respond, he closed the distance, wrapping you in a hug so tight it stole the breath from your lungs. For a moment, the world fell away—the noise, the cameras, the years. It was just Bucky, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear. It was like you were kids again, sitting on rooftops and talking about everything under the stars. Holding you in a way where you finally felt safe like nothing or no one could hurt you because you knew these arm’s wouldn’t.

“Holy shit,” he muttered into your hair. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your shoulders. “I haven’t seen you in years. What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you—I’m just…wow.”

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m here to cover the team for the season.” You held up your press badge, a sheepish grin tugging at your lips. “Didn’t realize I’d be covering you.”

Bucky barked a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fate, huh? Guess it wasn’t done with us yet.”

You both stood there for a moment, the hallway around you seeming to blur. His thumb brushed against your arm absently, like he was reassuring himself you were real. Finally, he stepped back, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ve got about a thousand questions,” he said, tilting his head. “But I guess we’ve got the whole season to catch up, right?”

“Right,” you replied, the warmth in his eyes making it impossible to think straight. “The whole season.”

[pintrestgrl]

loved your bsf!jj drabble!!!!! maybe a little drunken love confession from bsf!jj … and reader thinks its lowkey too good to be true bc she’s been yearning forever… but when they both sober up jj is like !!! i meant wtf i said !

hi i wrote this and then it completely disappeared. sigh. also im sorry if this is bad, i was half asleep bc i spent forever writing it the first time.

also i’m sorry for being inactive yesterday i was so so stressed nd had cramps and was dying… but hi !! hope u like this anon 🥹

note: after writing this, i rlly don’t like it. but i pray u guys do 😞

drunk!bsf!jj x pogue!reader.

“here, drink this.”

you spoke, shoving a glass of water into jj’s chest, sitting down next to him on the couch of the chateau.

he was clearly very wasted, and you were only a slight bit tipsy.

you two had both went out to the boneyard together, the rest of the group out doing god knows what.

he rambled on about not wanting to drink it, before giving in and chugging the clear liquid.

“thank god, you’re annoying when you’re drunk.”

“no, ‘m not. you are.”

“at least i’m not sloppy wasted, unlike somebody.”

“whatever. guilty by association.”

he spoke, slurring his words and laughing drunkenly.

“i’m not associated with you, you wish.”

“you’re my bestfriend, of course you are.”

he spoke, rolling his eyes amused at your denying.

you managed to let out a fake chuckle, silently cringing inside as he called you that. were you really only his ‘friend’ to him?

you wished to be so much more, and he had no idea whatsoever.

you were snapped out of your thoughts by his voice, drunkenly rambling again.

“thanks for the water. that was like, kinda sweet.”

“sweet?” you question, laughing as you furrowed your brows.

“yeah. you’re a sweet girl, i swear.”

you opened your mouth to protest, before being interrupted before you got the chance.

“you’re kinda pretty too.”

you froze at his words.

pretty?

that’s the last word you thought jj would use to describe you; at least to your face.

“what?”

“actually, no. you are pretty. very pretty.”

“jj, you’re drunk.”

“yeah, i am. and you’re pretty. probably beautiful if i could think right now.”

“you don’t mean that.”

“no, i do. i definitely do. i don’t know why you don’t have a boyfriend. or why i’m too dumb to ask you out.”

you were completely baffled at this point, trying to find any truth in his words. and to your surprise, he sounded genuine. drunk, but genuine.

you had liked him forever, and this was the most he’d ever showed any reciprocation.

you were always too scared to say anything, afraid of his rejection and what it would do to your friendship.

so, you opted for having some of him, rather then none at all.

“do you even understand a word you’re saying?”

you spoke, desperately needing to know if he was just drunkenly saying bullshit, or revealing the truth of how he felt.

“yeah, i do. you’re a sweet girl who is too pretty to not have a boyfriend. i mean, god. your face is perfect.”

“jj, shut up. stop.”

“no, you shut up. let me talk. i think i like you.”

“i’d hope so, considering i’m your bestfriend.”

“no, no. like actually like you. like seriously.”

you desperately were trying to deny his words, convincing yourself this was a dream and you needed to wake up.

“you think you like me?”

“no, i actually know i do. like a lot.

“jay, you’re joking.”

he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“can you let me be serious about one thing in my life? i mean, god. i’m not joking. i’m serious. serious about this, about you.”

you could tell he was probably getting agitated the way you kept denying him, the way his mood shifted from amusedly drunk, to pissed off.

“why don’t you sleep the ‘liking me’ off, yeah?”

it took a while, but you convinced him to just go to bed. and as he layed in the next room over, you couldn’t get over his words.

was he trying to get in your pants because he was wasted, or was he serious about liking you?

you knew the thought would keep you up all night if you let it, so you decided to drop it from your brain, drifting off to a light sleep.

next morning

————————————————

you woke up groggily, a slight hangover lingering on your body. once you registered everything, you decided to go to the room next door, consisting of a likely just as hungover jj.

you opened the door, sitting on john b’s his bed, silently shaking him awake.

you knew he’d probably get all mad, but you needed him to help you clear the lingering thought in your head.

he groaned, mumbling a sleepy short sentence.

“what do you need?”

“can we talk?”

“speak or forever hold your peace, stupid.”

you rolled your eyes at his tired insult, reluctantly continuing with your words.

“uh— last night, you told me some stuff. like that you liked me, thought i was pretty and stuff. were you serious?”

he shot up as the words spilled out, immediately sitting against the headboard.

“i told you that?”

“yeah, you did.”

“shit— um, well yeah. kinda. in a way.”

“kinda?”

“no. not kinda.”

he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

he spoke again, sounding embarrassed.

“yes. i did. i meant it. every word. ‘m sorry. i didn’t mean to— jesus, fuck.”

“no, it’s fine, uh— i ‘kinda’ like you too.”

you said, letting the words come out before you thought about their weight.

“kinda? you’re serious?”

“yes, i’m serious. and not kinda, i didn’t mean that. i like you a lot.”

“shut up.”

“i’m serious, i do.”

“well, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“i don’t know. i was nervous.”

a silence filled the room, not awkward. just waiting for someone to figure out the right thing to say.

finally, jj spoke.

“uh— i’m like really hungover.”

you rolled your eyes at the subject change, finding it just like him to do something like that.

“that’s what your gonna say?”

“no, fuck—sorry. can you just sleep in here with me so i can think straight after?”

“you could’ve just said that.”

“well, i just did, didn’t i?”

“i guess. and yeah, i can. scoot over.”

he awkwardly listened to your demand, not used to the feeling of you knowing about his thoughts of you.

you both fell unconscious soon after, unknowingly shiftinging your bodies closer as you slept.

you slept for another hour or two, limbs tangled and intertwined together as your mind tried to decipher if this was a dream, or if your head was really resting on your bestfriends chest.

[gojolvs]

I still want you.

Chapter 8

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

Falling in love with the Satoru Gojou wasn’t an easy task. You truly love him but will this come to an end?

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating.

Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message on the box. Also super sorry for not updating but im back!

previous chapter ⤏ next chapter

Before you knew it, you had arrived back at your hotel, Sumire sleeping on your arms. With a sigh, you got up from the bus seat and made your way to the entrance. As you carried him to the room, you couldn't help but smile at how peaceful he looked.

As you walked to your room, constantly feeling your phone vibrate with messages and missed calls, a wave of guilt washed over you. You had just stormed out of your sister's wedding party in a fit of anger and now you couldn't help but feel selfish and regretful. You knew that your actions had caused a scene and potentially ruined her special day. The weight of your decision and its consequences weighed heavily on your conscience.

Was she really pregnant by Satoru? Do you mean absolutely nothing to him? Although you had shared an intimate night the night you went to the bar, you felt stupid for believing his lies. These thoughts were swirling around in your head, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn't believe that he would do this to you, especially after everything you had been through together. The trust you had in him was shattered, and you couldn't help but feel foolish for falling for his smooth words and false promises. It was a painful reminder that sometimes, people are not who they seem to be.

Maybe you should've taken that trip with Sumire, just the two of you, to clear your mind. But now, it was too late. You were committed to this path, no matter how unsure you felt. As you walked, the sound of your heels clicking on the concrete floor was a constant reminder of the life you were leaving behind. And with each step, you couldn't help but curse under your breath, knowing that your new pair of Jimmy Choo heels were now ruined.

You felt the tiredness of caring him hit you mid way to the elevator. You sighed with relief as the elevator doors opened, grateful for the brief moment of rest.

As you stepped inside, you couldn't help but wonder how much longer you could keep up this routine. But then you looked down at Sumire in your arms, and you knew you would do anything for him. You straightened your back and held him a little tighter, determined to make it through the rest of the day with a smile on your face.

"Well, someone looks happy." Turning to your side, you barely noticed the tall man with pink hair staring at you. Curling your smile into an awkward one, you turned back to continue trying to shove Sumire up, as he was slipping from your hold. Although the man's comment had caught you off guard, you didn't want to engage in a conversation with a stranger while holding your child. Plus, his pink hair and unusual choice of words made you a bit uncomfortable. You focused on sumire and decided to ignore him, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

"Yeah, well I'm happy to be with my son is all," you chuckled awkwardly. Despite the pink-haired man being oddly attractive, you weren't really looking for a conversation because unfortunately for you, Sumire was starting to wake up. "Do you need help carrying him? It looks like you're struggling," the man said, curling his lips into a genuine smile.

As you handed over your toddler, a wave of anxiety washed over you. You knew that letting a stranger hold your child was not a wise decision, but you were desperate for a break from carrying him. With a mixture of hesitation and aggression, you reluctantly agreed. The man's reaction was unexpected - he froze in place as your little white haired boy happily grabbed onto his neck and curled up. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "Well since you're carrying my kid, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Y/N."

"My name is Sukuna." The pink haired man said, he silently checked you out. Looking at your heels to your dress he definitely knew you had some type of cash on you. All you were wearing was designer brands. "Nice to meet you." you said clutching your purse. You wondered if the man was here on a business trip because of the way he was dressed. He was wearing a suite which suited his body figure well.

You couldn't help but notice he looked a little like one of sumire's friends from school. However, his intense gaze and calculating demeanor made you feel uneasy. It was almost as if he was sizing you up, and you couldn't shake off the feeling that he had ulterior motives for wanting to meet you. You started to second-guess your decision to meet him, wondering if it was safe to trust him.

"Wait a minute... I know you." He said chuckling.

Realizing that you had never met this man before, you glanced back at the elevator sign, wondering if he had mistaken you for someone else. However, as you looked back at him, his chuckle turned into a sly smile and you couldn't help but feel suspicious. Who was this man and why did he seem to recognize you? You couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off."why is this elevator so damn slow" you thought.

"You do?" You laughed awkwardly, trying to hide the fear in your voice. All you could do was pray that he wasn't some serial killer.

"Mmm yeah I do. You're Satoru Gojos wife right?" tilting his head a little. You sighed, he was definitely one of Satorus business partners.

The man continued to look at you curiously, his pink hair falling into his dark eyes. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious under his gaze. "Yes, I am. And who might you be?" you replied, trying to maintain a polite tone despite your growing irritation. It seemed like Satoru's business partners were always popping up at the most inconvenient times.

"Well im just associated with your husband because we both work for the same industry." nodding your head you couldn't help but feel relieved when the elevator doors finally opened on your floor.

"I can take him from here." reaching for Sumire the man just backed up a bit.

"Where's your room? I can take him there," he said. You sighed in defeat as you stepped out of the elevator. Walking down the hallway towards your hotel room, you couldn't help but feel frustrated with Sukuna's constant presence. You knew he was only trying to help, but having him follow you everywhere was starting to become suffocating.

You could also tell that he was most definitely checking you out as you walked towards your room. Where was satoru when you needed him.

"So how long have you been married for?" Sighing, you shook your head, feeling the weight of your failing marriage. Finally getting to your room, you opened your purse to try and find the keys, hoping to escape the tension and disappointment that had been plaguing your relationship.

"Just a few years," you replied, finally grabbing your keys and unlocking the door. You turned around to face the pink haired man, smiling with gratitude. "Thank you so much for your help. Please come in and put him in the bed."

He gently put sumire down on the bed, straightening him self he cracked his knuckles before walking back out. You followed him planning on thanking him before he left. As you followed him, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his help and wanted to thank him before he left. However, you also couldn't help but notice the slight tension in his knuckles as he walked, perhaps a sign of the physical strain he had endured while carrying Sumire to the bed. You made a mental note to check on him later and offer your gratitude for his assistance.

As Sukuna stood by your side, you silently closed the door behind you, leaving only the two of you outside in the hallway. Turning to Sukuna, you couldn't help but smile and say, "Thank you for carrying my son all this way."

"I'm just happy to help," Sukuna replied with a smile, "Your son is a great kid." You nodded, grateful for Sukuna's assistance in carrying your sleeping child out of the elevator.

Sukuna couldn't help but lean closer, and as he did, you caught a whiff of his strong, expensive cologne. Your heart raced, wondering if he was hitting on you. But as you glanced to the side, you noticed someone standing by you.

"Leave her alone," Toji stood in front of you, pushing Sukuna away. Sukuna groaned in disappointment, "Toji, nice to see you too." The tension between the two of them was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for Toji's intervention.

"What are you doing here?" you said in a low voice, toji stared at sukuna. Not paying attention to you as he was trying to get sukuna to leave. "Come on man, I can't talk to her?" Toji rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by Sukuna's presence. You couldn't help but feel caught in the middle of their argument.

With a sigh, Sukuna made his way out of the hallway, leaving you and Toji alone. Surprisingly, the tension that had filled the air seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm and understanding between the two of you. It was as if Sukuna's departure lifted a weight off your shoulders, allowing you to fully relax in Toji's presence. The atmosphere had changed into something more peaceful, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of tranquility.

"You followed me?" Confused you stared at him

"Yes, I did. I was worried about you," Toji replied with a concerned expression. "I saw you walk out alone and I couldn't just let you go without making sure you were okay." He squeezed your arm gently, his eyes full of worry. "Are you alright?"

Nodding your head you couldnt help but see that Toji's chest was going up n down fast. He had sweat beats forming on his forehead most likely meaning he sprinted here. "Did you run all the way here?"

Nodding your head, you couldn't help but notice that Toji's chest was rising and falling rapidly. Sweat beads were forming on his forehead, most likely meaning he had sprinted here. "Did you run all the way here?" you asked, concerned for his well-being. Toji smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I wanted to make sure I got here in time to see you." You couldn't help but feel touched by his dedication and effort.

Toji was just staring, taking in your facial features. He couldn't help but admire your features, from the curve of your lips to the sparkle in your eyes. Every detail seemed to captivate him, leaving him in awe of your beauty. But as he gazed at you, he couldn't help but wonder, what was your secret? How could someone be so effortlessly and naturally stunning?

He leaned in, gently cupping your cheek in his hand. His intense gaze held yours, making you feel weak in the knees. You could feel your cheeks heat up and your body tense as his hand caressed your skin. The electricity between you was palpable, and you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in your stomach. Maybe it was time for you to move on and find someone who actually cares about you. Someone who would treat you with love, respect, and kindness. You deserve to be with someone who values you and makes you feel appreciated.

You put your hand behind his head and pulled him closer, your lips inching towards each other. Maybe Toji was that someone, the one who could treat you with love and kindness, unlike the others who had only caused you pain and heartache. As you leaned in for a kiss, you couldn't help but hope that this could be the start of something real and beautiful. The fear of getting hurt once more overwhelmed you, causing you to hesitate and pull away from his soft lips. Memories of past heartbreaks and betrayals flooded your mind, making it difficult to fully embrace the present moment. You couldn't help but question his intentions and whether or not you were making the right decision by allowing him to kiss you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his face inches from yours. You could see the hunger in his eyes as he gazed at you.

Feeling a rush of desire, you leaned in closer to him, allowing your lips to brush against his. "Nothing," you whispered, before closing the gap between you and giving into the intense chemistry between the two of you. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn't resist the temptation any longer.

As his hand moved from your cheek to your waist, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. His touch was gentle yet possessive, and you couldn't resist the urge to lean into him. He hesitated for a moment, but then his hand slipped under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers traced along your bare skin. The butterflies in your stomach only intensified, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

You could feel the coolness of his fingers against your skin and you flinched, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. Toji's gentle touch allowed your mouth to open just slightly, and Toji took that as an invitation, eagerly pushing his tongue into your mouth. The pleasure was intoxicating and you found yourself moaning in response, losing yourself in the moment.

You knew this was wrong, making out in the hall of your hotel. Anyone could come in at the moment and see you making out with Toji. But for some reason, it sparked excitement in you - the thrill of getting caught reminded you of your teenage years when you would sneak around with him at parties. It was a reminder of the carefree and rebellious nature of youth, and you couldn't help but indulge in the moment. However, you also knew that this behavior was irresponsible and could have consequences, but the temptation was too strong to resist.

"Mm, Toji..." Feeling his hand slide up, you felt a rush of excitement as he reached your breasts. Stopping for a brief moment to ask for your consent, he said, "Can I?" You didn't even have to tell him, you just grabbed him and pulled him into another passionate kiss. Taking that as a yes, he began to gently fondle and caress your breasts, sending shivers of pleasure throughout your body.

It had been a while since someone had made out with you, but it was clear that Toji needed you. Despite being with Satoru most of your life, you had never experienced a makeout session this passionate before. Satoru's kisses were always rough, but Toji's were on another level. They were gentle, yet somehow still intense and rough at the same time. It was as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"We should stop," you said, looking away from him to see if anyone had passed by the hall. "Yeah, we should," but before you could say anything, he squeezed your breast, causing you to look at him. He laughed in a playful manner before kissing you one last time.

You rolled your eyes at him before looking at him with confusion. "Where's Megumi?" you asked. "He's at your sister's house," he replied. "I came here as fast as I could, so I asked if she could watch him."

"Are you serious? you left your soon with a bunch of strangers." you shook your head in disapproval.

"Let's go get him, I need to talk to my sister either way," you hesitently said. Turning around to get your keys out of your purse, you opened your hotel room, with Toji following behind you.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as you watched your son sleeping peacefully. You knew you had to wake him up, but seeing him so content made you hesitate. You couldn't bear to disturb his peaceful slumber, but you also knew you had to stick to the schedule. You gently shook him awake, hoping he wouldn't be too grumpy about it.

"Come on, baby, wake up." You said in a soft tone, gently trying to rouse your child from their slumber.

Sumire awoke from a deep sleep, confused and disoriented as he found himself in a hotel room. He couldn't remember how he got there, but he was suddenly filled with joy when he saw you, his mother, standing by his bedside. "Mommy!" he exclaimed excitedly, relieved to see a familiar face.

Toji stood next to you as you gently picked up your son. "Hey, let me take him for you." You silently thanked him before handing Sumire to him. Without hesitation, Sumire wrapped his tiny hands around Toji's neck and buried his face in the warmth of his embrace. You couldn't help but smile at the sweet bond forming between him and your and son.

As you walked out, you made sure to carefully lock the door behind you before heading to the elevator. Once you reached the lobby, you made your way out to the parking lot, grateful for the car your sister had rented for you. You promised yourself to thank her again when you saw her.

"Can you drive? I want to sit with Sumire," you asked. Toji simply nodded and got into the car. You carefully picked up your son and positioned him comfortably on top of you, holding him tight. You quickly checked your phone to see if you got any messages from when you left.

3 messages from "Sister" 2 messages from "My love ♡" 5 messages from "Toji Zen'in"

Confused as to why you still had Satoru as "My love" you clicked on his contact. Quickly changing it back to "ex-husband." Curious on what he texted you clicked on his message.

Y/N please call me when you see this. Please tell me if you got safe with sumire if you can.

You scoffed seeing his message. You were filled with anger and resentment upon receiving his message. 'How dare he try to act like a caring father now? He should have thought about the consequences of his actions when he decided to cheat and get another girl pregnant.' It was too late for him to try and make amends now.

You hated him so much. You couldn't believe how different Sumire was from his father. His kind and gentle nature was a stark contrast to the man you despised so much. It was almost hard to believe they were related.

"So we get megumi, I talk to my sister and we leave, Okay?" You said.

"That sounds good," Toji said, placing a hand on your thigh before carelessly rubbing it. You realized he was driving with one hand and for some reason it made him look immensely attractive. His confident and nonchalant demeanor while driving added to his charm and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. The way his hand rested on your thigh sent shivers down your spine, making you want him even more.

Toji had a way of making you feel youthful, despite the small age difference between the two of you. Although he was only two years older, being around him made you feel more energized and alive. He had a contagious energy that could make anyone feel young and carefree.

"Toji?" Seeing him turn to look at you, you took in his features. His sharp jawline, dark hair, and piercing dark green eyes took your breath away. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach every time you looked at him. It was no wonder he was the most popular guy in school.

Everyone wanted Toji, even your sister had a major crush on him. She was a freshman when he was a senior. Little did she know you were lucky enough to make out with him the day before he graduated.

"Do you still remember how Highschool was?" With a squeeze on your thigh he began to think.

"Hmm, high school was quite boring actually," he said with a sigh. "Well, except for the fact that I could see you during passing periods," he added with a sly wink in your direction.

"You're dumb." You said, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

"I'm being completely honest with you. I had strong feelings for you, but I was told that you were in a serious relationship with Satoru, so I didn't want to interfere or make things complicated."

You smiled knowing Toji always thought of you in a romantic way, but you also couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like if you had married him instead of Satoru. Would things have been easier or more fulfilling? Would you have avoided the heartbreak and struggles you faced with Satoru?

"We're here," he said, parking the car outside the house. As the music and chatter from outside filled the car, you felt hesitant and unsure if you should actually go in.

"Here, I'll carry Sumire." He said, gently picking up your son and holding him in his arms. You were still getting out of the car, and Toji extended his hand to help you. You gratefully accepted it, feeling a sense of warmth and connection as your fingers interlocked. Together you walked inside the house.

Upon opening the door, you were greeted by Jiyuu, who appeared to have been crying. "Couldn't my day get any better." She said before shoulder checking you and walking out the door. You were in disbelief, she really just said that in front of you. Scoffing you continued to walk towards the patio.

Satoru was frustrated, Jiyuu had ran out and he had to go after her. He began walking to where she had left before stopping in his tracks and seeing you. Toji was holding his son, his baby. He looked at Toji in disgust before his eyes followed to you, seeing that you were holding hands with Toji he chuckled.

Satoru couldn't believe it. After all the trouble Jiyuu had caused, she had just run off and left him to deal with the consequences. And now, to make matters worse, he saw that you were here with Toji, holding hands with him. Satoru couldn't help but feel disgusted and betrayed by both of you. He had always hated Toji, but now it seemed that you were with him. He stood there, unsure of what to do or say next.

All he could do was just walk past you, pretend like he didnt care that you were with another man. He had priorities now, and that was to catch his pregnant lover who had just ran out.

"What a scum." you said

As you walked outside, you noticed a group of people gathered and chatting. Your eyes zeroed in on your sister's fiance, who seemed to be the center of attention. You quickly made your way over.

"Y/N, I'm glad you're safe," he said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Where's Marie?" you asked, scanning the room for any sign of her. However, she was nowhere in sight. You wondered where she could have gone off to and if everything was okay.

"She's in her room, all the bridesmaids are in there," he said, gesturing towards the door before turning to greet Toji and your son.

Looking at Toji, he had just smiled at you and reassured you that it was okay to leave. "It's fine, go ahead. I'll take care of Megumi." His kind gesture put you at ease and you were grateful for his understanding.

You walked to your sister's room, knocking on the door before you were greeted by Utahime. She looked at you with a shocked expression, practically jumping on you. "Y/N! I'm so glad you're okay!" she exclaimed.

Walking inside, you saw all of your friends gathered in the room, with your sister on the bed crying. You immediately felt guilty, knowing that your actions had caused this emotional outburst. Without hesitation, you walked over to her and embraced her in a hug, apologizing for the scene you had made.

"I'm so sorry Marie, I didn't mean to storm off like that," you apologized to your sister, feeling guilty for your outburst. You knew that your sister deserved an explanation for your behavior and you were ready to give her one.

She reached out and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You've been through a lot, but you're here now and that's all that matters," she reassured you with a warm smile. "And I completely understand if you don't want to be a part of my wedding anymore. I love you and everything you have done for me, but I want you to be happy and comfortable with your role in the wedding." You quickly cut her off, reassuring her that her feelings and opinions are important to you.

"Absolutely not, I'm staying for this wedding. Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss it for anything," you said, hugging her again. You had been looking forward to this special occasion for months, and there was no way you were going to miss it. The thought of not being there to celebrate with your baby sister and witness her happiness was out of the question.

She smiled at you, happy that you were going to be in her wedding. "And as for Jiyuu i want her there too." you said, you're sister looked at you confused.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, concern evident in her voice. "I can take her off if you want," she reassured you, gently squeezing your hand. You could tell she genuinely cared about your well-being and wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the situation.

"No, it's fine, I have to go." you reassured your sister before getting up from the bed and giving her one last hug. "I'll be safe, don't worry. And I'll definitely text you." Your sister smiled and nodded before letting you leave the room. As you walked outside, you saw that Toji was getting along well with your sister's fiancé.

You walked towards him and gently took Megumi from his grasp, feeling grateful for his innocent and loving nature. "Hello, my sweet baby," you cooed in a soft, high-pitched voice. His eyes lit up with excitement and he wrapped his tiny hands around your neck, his pure and genuine love bringing a smile to your face.

"Well we should get going, thank you for everything." You thanked him before grabbing Toji's hand and walking towards the entrance.

Toji was walking with Sumire holding his tiny hand while you carried Megumi. You always wanted another kid. Just so Sumire wouldn't be alone. But having another child was basically impossible since his father was no longer in the picture.

However, as the wedding drew closer, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread and sadness. Going home also meant finalizing your divorce and leaving behind the life you once knew. The impending changes and uncertainty made it difficult to truly enjoy the vacation.

Taglist; @allofffmypeaches @wo-ming-bai @nerdiel-has-no-braincells@creolequeen11210 @doughnuts-eater @narutosagemode@lilith412426 @meojjjsworld @pandoraium @dcvilxswish @cloudsinthecosmos

[mrsrileywrites]

Hi! I read lots of your work and im SO IN LOVE!!! Like I absolutely fell so hard for papa simon 😭😭 i wanna give him a babyy! But i was wondering, how would pregnancy be like with his child. I mean bro is HUGE so his baby would probably be not only pretty big and probably weight a little bit more too than an average newborn. If its okay with you would it be possible for you to write a little story maybe add a little bit of angst? (Idk like argument about something that made the reader really sad?) but please a happy ending 🥹

Feel free to ignore if thats not your thing or just not feeling comfortable writing about it!! LOVE YOUU!! Btw sorry for any misspelling English is not my first language.

First of, as a not native English speaker, your English is perfect.

And second, thank you for your kind words, it really encourages me to keep writing and also boosts my ego 😁

You asked in such a nice and respectful way so I really want to make you happy.

Now here's the thing, I'm an adult with lots of responsibilities and sometimes adulting makes me tired, like last night when I was trying to finish this but I fell asleep and I woke up this morning to find half of my writing disappeared, it just vanished 🥲

But I'll give you this to munch on and I promise I'll finish this before the end of the week.

I hope this is what you were expecting... Enjoy 🫶

A little over 700 words.

_______________________

You stood in front of the sink of your bathroom, holding a pregnancy test on your shaky hands, two little red lines staring right back at you.

How did this happen? How would you tell him? He doesn't want kids, he made it clear from the beginning and you accepted it without a fuss, that's why you've been taking your pills diligently every day, you didn't forget one, did you?... No, you know you didn't, how did this happen?

"You okay there, love?" Simon knocks on the bathroom door and you jump in surprise, like a child that's been caught red handed.

"Y-yes Si, j-just give me a minute... I'll be right there." Your period is about three weeks late so you bought a pregnancy test, your best friends advice, it wouldn't hurt, it was just to make sure, you certainly were not expecting this.

You hid the test on the cabinet under the sink and washed your face before coming out.

It's been a week since your ob-gyn confirmed a six weeks pregnancy and you still haven't found the courage nor the right time to break the news to Simon, so when he gets a call from Price to get deployed on a long mission you fear it would be too late by the time he comes back.

One month at most he said when he kissed you goodbye almost two months ago, you are 16 weeks into your pregnancy and your bump is starting to show, which only adds to your anxiety, between the morning sickness and your hormones being all over the place you still haven't figured out how to tell him.

As you ponder how to break the news to him, you realize that a simple phone call wouldn't suffice. With him stationed on the other side of the globe, risking his life every day, you hesitate to burden him further. At the same time, you know it wouldn't be ideal for him to return home and suddenly find you waddling around with a baby bump.

So you stay quiet and whenever he calls and asks why you sound so exhausted you blame it on your job, you say you are just stressed out, and he promises he'll take care of you once he's back, he'll relieve you from the stress the way you like it, the way only he knows how to.

You are laying on the couch wearing Simon's t-shirt, stuffing yourself with your favorite ice cream and watching trash tv when you hear fumbling outside your front door before it swings open, a very rugged Simon stands in the threshold , you curse under your breath, he didn't say he was coming home the last time you talked on the phone three days ago so you stand there and look at him overly conscious of the bump hiding under his t-shir and you thank the heavens he is a big man, you think the loose fit of his T-shirt would buy you time, your ice cream long forgotten in the coffee table.

He walks towards you with long strides as he pulls his balaclava over his head running his fingers through his messy hair and you shy away, you step back and freeze, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, he stops in his tracks and tilts her head, his eyebrows pinch as his eyes linger on your midsection and you know you're fucked, he noticed, how wouldn't he, and you hope and pray he'd say something, anything, but he doesn't, he turns on his heels ready to walk out.

"Simon wait!" You call for him and he stops, his hand lingers on the door knob, "I can explain, please just hear me out" your voice cracks and you wish you had been brave enough to tell him before, you know about his childhood and his trauma, you know his struggles and why he didn't want children in the first place, he trusted you and you broke his trust, you deceived him from the moment you found out you were pregnant and decided to keep it to yourself because you were too scared to trust him back.

"Explain what?" He shouts turning around and walking towards you again, your hands fly to your belly instinctively, protective. You lower your head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

[ghostgirl-22]

art fucking/getting fucked by a random dude and patrick finds out and gets jealous so he also sleeps with the dude as revenge or smth. they both pretend the dude is the other one.

hope you get what i’m trying to say :3

Yes i get it—im with you anon!! They’re so silly. Using this poor guy as a proxy for each other. This is a little bit of a post break up au for you anonnie— hehe.

CW: NSFW MDNI

___

Patrick shows up because of course he does. 

He wouldn’t answer a 3 am call for his own siblings but for Art Donaldson apparently he’d still do anything. He rolls down the window to wake himself up but also some part of him hopes the crisp air of the early spring night will bring him to his senses. That he’ll make a u-turn and go back to his apartment and pretend none of this happened. It’s not his fucking problem anymore. He scrolls his phone at the red light. Texts starting around midnight and getting more and more incoherent. Starting with: 

Hey you're in Boston right? I’m in town for this wedding thing— my cousins wedding. 

My aunt was asking about you. 

Remember that bar O’malleys we snuck into when we were 19? I’m here if you wanna stop by.

He’d stared at the messages mildly confused. Unsure of how to feel. All of it so out of the blue. Part of him would believe Art’s phone was stolen if he hadn’t mentioned O’Malley’s. The memories of that place clear as if it was yesterday sneaking in when Art’s cousin worked on shift. Summer nights with live music, dancing with hot 21 year olds, and way too much to drink. The thought of it making him nostalgic. Nostalgia laced with bitterness. After years of no contact then it’s just… hey I’m in your city at a family wedding you weren’t invited to want to get drunk?  

He ignores the texts. And every text that follows but as a true masochist he stays up late to watch them come in. Each one drunker and more desperate than the last. They stop around two in the morning and distantly Patrick wonders if he should be worried.  He had to shake himself out of that mindset. Art is a big boy. Art is and adult. Art didn’t choose you. No one did. He’d fallen into a fitful sleep when his phone started buzzing non stop. A call. He almost didn’t pick up, but part of him was so surprised that Art actually had the balls to call him. 

“It’s three in the fucking morning,” he says coolly. 

“Please, Patrick please ‘m at this bar. ‘m really drunk. ‘m sorry to bother you. I just can’t—I can’t— i cant drive— i think I’m gonna be sick.”

Patrick doesn’t realize he’s grinding his teeth until he opens his mouth to take a breath. He can tell that Art’s probably been crying  just from the way he’s breathing. “Stay there. I’ll come get you.”   

He still hates himself as he pulls up to O’Malleys. This Irish pub not far from his sometimes girlfriends place. He and Art had taken the train here plenty of times all those summers they’d spent roaming around downtown Boston when Art would come stay with his Aunt and Patrick would come down from his parents estate on Martha’s Vineyard and stay with him in the city. It feels like it was a different life now. One he can’t believe was his.

The bar is clearly closed, though some patrons are still lingering. Art’s on the outdoor patio furniture talking to some guy. Tall, lanky, bent over… he’s rubbing circles along Art’s back as he takes a sip of whatever clear liquid is in the glass. If he’s smart… its water. 

Patrick actually realizes he’s grinding his teeth this time. “Hey!” He calls out the window. 

Art recognizes his voice but he’s not the only one that looks over to Patrick. Tall and lanky and (somewhat handsome apparently) is staring too, along with a couple of older women sitting on a planter having a cigarette. 

Art makes his apologies to tall and lanky and stumbles towards Patrick’s car. He’s sloppy, messy drunk. Clothes all wrinkled. Hair disheveled. His jacket open, fly half zipped. He gets in and shuts the door weakly behind him. Patrick leans over him and pulls it shut properly before peeling off without a word. 

“‘m sorry,” Art says. “‘m sorry Patrick.” He says again when Patrick doesn’t respond.  And Patrick gets the sense he’s apologizing for more than just tonight. “Thank you for coming. ‘m sorry. ‘Mm so embarassed.” 

“what street does she live off of again?” Patrick asks about his aunt. 

“Please i— i can’t go there. Not like this.”  

Patrick huffs a laugh, incredulous. “well where the fuck do you want me to take you?” 

Art starts to take little shaky breaths like he’s gonna cry. Patrick hates himself. Hates that those sniffles still make him care. Make him feel responsible. “I did something bad. I— i did something really bad.” 

“What did you do, Art? Kill someone?” Patrick mutters dryly.  

“No,” he exclaims quickly. “I uh… well… i had sex.” 

Patrick grips the steering wheel tighter. “Who fucking cares? You’re a grown up. You’ve had sex before.”

“No… i mean…” he sniffles. “Not… it was sex with… I can’t face her like this… my aunt…s-she wouldn’t understand. God.” He pulls a few condoms from his pocket and drops them into Patricks empty cup holder. “This was a mistake.”

“You think she’s gonna smell it on you and kick you out?”  Patrick glances at Art and he looks miserable. Patrick feels a small twist of sadistic satisfaction somewhere deep down. Maybe he’s not the only one struggling. Then he remembers the way Arts career is taking off and his impotent frustration with him returns even stronger.

“It’s…you know how my aunt is. Really religious. And i let the bartender… i let him fuck me. I let him… god just a fucking stranger he was so nice and funny and his accent was cute and i was really drunk so… i let him…” he’s wiping his nose on his wrists. Eyes all wet. 

“Oh.” Patrick feels this tight bitter lump growing in his throat. His heart rate picking up. He doesn’t say anything for a while. Doesn’t really trust himself to say anything that isn’t gonna come out bitter and desperate. 

His mind returning to the moment he’d pulled up in front of the bar. Art on the patio furniture. The tall lanky somewhat handsome guy massaging his back. Feeding him water. Taking care of him. That stupid guy. That fucking random stranger. Taking it just like that. After years and years of… of what…

Is Patrick admitting it? Admitting it even to himself what he desires. It makes him feel weak. Makes him hate himself even more. Art can push him out. Push him away. Take Tashi’s side. So easy and so cold. Knowing how much Patrick loved liked her. Knowing how much Patrick loved him. No words. No apologies. Just this out of the fucking blue. And now he’s fucked some guy. Giving a stranger what should have been Patrick’s. Giving him what Patrick fucking deserves especially after all Art has put him through.

“I’m so fucking embarrassing. I know its… I’m not even into guys I just. I’m so… i don’t know why i did it… ” Art sniffles quietly. “Can you stop, please? I think I’m really gonna be sick.”

Patrick pulls over on the side of the road. Watching Art bend over a public trash can. He should be glad Arts having this reaction to it but his own stomach is twisting into knots. His chest aches and the lump in his throat is so large it's difficult to swallow.

All those touches between them that lingered too long… all the times Art would self consciously push Patrick away whenever other people were around. The lie he told Tashi.  “No, no, nothing… is that surprising?” 

And Patrick let him lie. Even backed him up. Because sharing clothes, crawling into the same bed, sleeping tangled up with each other, wet dreams. Touching themselves in the same bed, sitting too close together, hearts racing when they finish, filling the awkward space with heightened giggles. Dumb secrets. It was all just nothing.

And yet even now, Patrick knows he’s gonna cave. That he’ll bring Art back to his shitty one bedroom. Let him sleep it off.

“I don’t know why i did it…” is all Art can say. Head resting on the car window, street lights flash across his body, illuminating his tear streaked face as they drive home. “You’re not gonna say anything?”

Patrick is burning up inside. More than usual. Teeth grinding in a way that kinda hurts. This hurts but he’s not going to admit that. “Was it the guy giving you water?”

Art sniffles. “Um… yeah. Justin um… Fuck.” He laughs but theres no mirth in it. “I don’t even know his last name.”   

Patrick bites his tongue to stop himself from saying what he wants to say. Things that will make Art hurt as much as him. Maybe more. “So you dont like guys… but you like Justin no last name?” Patrick says quietly. He hopes he sounds as even and uncaring to Art as he’s trying to be.

”I know you don’t believe me.” He lifts his head and rolls the window down. “It was a mistake. I’ve never— I swear I’ve never done that before. I had too much to drink.” 

They get home and Patrick lets him upstairs. The place is bland, undecorated. Patrick’s barely affording the $900 a month as is. His furniture all comes from ikea or its makeshift. Art doesn’t ask any questions, he just uses the bathroom and plops down on Patrick’s sofa. Thankfully before Patrick says anything because Patrick is pathetic enough he probably would have let him have the bed. 

“I can be out of your hair in the morning,” He promises when Patrick comes back with a flimsy blanket. He curls up and Patrick hears him snoring not too long later. Patrick’s in his bedroom looking at the blank wall. at the blinking red dots in the center of his digital clock radio. Almost 5 in the morning. He can’t stop thinking about it. 

I let him fuck me. I let him fuck me.

Patrick can see the guys face so clearly in his head and he’s furious. He’s been to O’malleys enough times. He’s been served by Justin. Never bothered to learn his fucking name. 

He eases his hand into his sweats. He’s so hard it’s embarrassing. He jerks himself off. Cursing Justin. Cursing Art. Cursing the idea of them pressed up against each other in a messy bar bathroom. Justin fucking into him— his dumb voice getting pitchy. Maybe he’s whining asking Justin to take it slow cause he’s never had sex with a man before. Patrick would’ve taken it slow. Patrick would’ve kissed his throat, nibbled hickies so everyone at the wedding would know what Art did last night. So he’d have to tell his aunt some kinda lie. Patrick squeezes a little tighter. So horny he doesn’t even have the patience to spit in his hand to help the chafing.

Maybe Justins big. Maybe he’s huge. Maybe he’s got a bigger fucking dick than Patrick does. Maybe he made Art moan for it. Act like a slut for it. Blue eyes rolling back because of how good it feels. Then all at once Patrick’s coming. Its been less than a minute and he’s breathless against his blanket. After all this fucking time.

Fuck this. Fuck him. 

Art does leave the next morning (closer to afternoon) as he promised. Makes it to the wedding on time.

*

Justin is working again tonight at O’Malleys. Hes a real friendly guy. Tall, handsome and flirtatious. Patrick’s been flirting with him for an hour now. Justin seems to like his company. Eyes lingering on his smile, his body.

“That one’s on the house,” he says, in his regrettably sexy Irish lilt.

“Oh thats nice of you, how will i ever repay the favor,” Patrick says, raising his shotglass with a smirk before swallowing it down.

Justin grins, “I can think of a few ways.” 

Patrick leans forward on the bar. “What times your break?”

*

The drinks are stronger than he anticipated. He feels it all when they’re in the small space of the backseat of Patrick’s jeep and he’s fumbling with a lubricated condom. 

He’s trying to be cool and sexy and just like the hottest fuck of this guys life. Wants to make himself forget all about Art but hes so buzzed he feels a little dizzy. 

“Those shots taste delicious, huh?” Justin teases. Patrick wonders if the accent is what made Art fall for him. Or is it his hair? (Full head of thick dark hair). Or his hands? he’s got big hands but Patrick thinks his are bigger. Maybe it was the kiss?  (It was… fine… he’s fine… but Patrick still doesn’t understand what makes him so fucking special). 

He manages to roll the condom on before he grabs at Justin's jeans and makes quick work of getting them down so he can see what he’s working with. Boxer briefs, like what Art started to wear shortly before he left for Stanford. 

Of course. Of course. 

Patrick can see Art in briefs just like this. 

Rolling in dizziness of the alcohol, his heart pounding in his ears Patrick bends him over. He’s imagining Art doing this. On his hands and knees in the backseat, sliding the briefs down. Imagining Art wiggling for him as he grabs him by the waist… slides his dick between the crevice of his ass cheeks. 

“Mm your so ready for me, aren't you?” Patrick sighs and there's a soft answering moan.

God. Art was just like this. Slutty waist bent in half. Perfect little ass. Presenting for him. For him. Patrick can’t wait another minute, he grabs him by the waist and presses himself inside. 

Oh. Oh god.

It’s so tight.

So virgin fucking tight, the heated ring of muscles practically choking his dick. “Fuck yes, oh so tight for me Art. I can barely fit… fuck.” He hums. “Gonna open you up… make it easier to take. I promise.”

“Mm it’s cause I don’t usually bottom… but you’re so hot I couldn’t resist… should’ve known you’d be massive.” The voice shocks Patrick back to reality. He’s not Art. But Art did this. Art bent over like this. His Art. Just like this.

Patrick takes his time rocking into him. Heartbeat in his ears, sliding in and out. His body starts to relax… accommodating the size. The whole time Patrick’s brain keeps imagining that Art felt this tight. That Art moaned just like this. That Art began to push back as he got used to it… just like this and before long Patrick isn’t sure what’s in his head and what’s real… but he knows the word mine keeps slipping from his mouth. Distantly Patrick is aware but he can’t stop. Can’t slow down. Art beneath him. Art whining and moaning like a…

“That’s right… take it you fucking slut.” Patrick hisses. “On top of everything else who knew you were a slut? Taking anything, anyone. Fuck you. You don’t even fucking deserve this.” He’s grunting, the pace of his hips rapid as he chases his own pleasure. Fingers gripping tight enough to bruise. The car rocking gently with the force of it.  Patrick feels it… slowly building and then its all of a sudden. “Oh shit,” he grabs hold of Art’s cock and starts to jerk him. “Fuck… oh fuck, Art… I’m gonna—“  He cuts himself off with a loud groan, filling the condom up. He keeps jerking him off… a few more rough strokes and he’s shocked back into reality again when Justin grunts out his own orgasm and Patrick sits back feeling dizzy and mildly unsettled. 

”Fuck,” Justin gasps. As they both breathlessly try to put themselves back together. “You can’t possibly be the Patrick.” 

“What’s that mean?” Patrick squints, tying off the condom and shoving it into an old grocery bag that’s become his makeshift trash bag. 

“Last night I met this guy, a blond, who claimed he was waiting on his friend, Patrick. Except he never showed up… and I felt a little bad cause he seemed lonely.” (Patrick almost feels bad for that… almost). Justin wiggles his hips, lifting his jeans up over his ass. “I thought he was really cute… so I might have made a few too many mixed drinks for him, on the house. I thought I was cheering him up… getting him to smile. Long story short we ended up going outside for a cigarette and that turned into sex up against the wall of the alleyway, with one of these that I’d grabbed from the bowl behind the till…” he picks up the condom wrapper and tosses it into the makeshift trash bag.  “and the whole time he’s calling me Patrick. Telling me how much he thought about me. How sorry he is. How bad he wanted me to fuck him. How much he just needed to feel it.” 

Patrick’s eyebrows fly up towards his hairline. 

“So I just go with it… I’m thinking who fucking cares… let the poor cute guy call me by his exes name. But then the next night here you come…  calling me by one of the most unique names I’ve ever heard and it just so happens to be… last nights boy toys name. Art. He’s a tennis player, ring a bell?”

Patrick can’t help smirking. “What else did he say about me?”

”Well afterwards he broke down in tears and I was trying to calm him down and… did you… it was you… last night in the car.”

“I did pick him up.” Patrick admits.

“Oh fuck, I’m… did he tell you about me?”

Patrick shrugs and Justin grins. “He told you and you came to find me. Well don’t I feel fuckin special.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Patrick says, lightly. 

“No I’m sure it has nothing to do with me… but do you need a third? Cause, holy fuck I’ll be honest, after being dicked down like that by an ex… I’d sit in a bar by myself and get drunk enough to cry too.” 

That actually makes Patrick laugh. 

Justin leaves shortly after to finish his shift. “I wouldn’t drive tonight if I were you, maybe call your ex,” he smirks before getting out and leaving Patrick alone.  

It’s perfect actually. Patrick texts Art, time for you to return the favor.

*

It’s after Art’s snuck him into his aunts house at 1 in the morning that Patrick explains himself (“By the way I fucked that bar tender… the one you let fuck you last night. he told me all about what you really wanted.”) And Art, who’s gone all cherry red and incredulous, doesn’t protest for very long after Patrick gets his mouth on him. And in the familiar room they shared during high school summers, with Art’s religious aunt just a few bedrooms away, they’re all over each other in the race to each make the other forget all about Justin.

[anzulvr]

korosensei does this haunted house thing and makes class e go in it, the reader is really unamused so reader and karma work together to scare the crap out of korosensei

i've seen videos where people hide and reverse the roles in a haunted house instead of being a victim, i think it would be hilarious to see that with a stoic-ish reader and karma

Haunted - Karma x Reader // THIS THING DELETED TWICEE //

- End class had been completely transformed back into an abandoned looking building, much like its original state but with more of a horror factor. Korosensei went all out with Halloween decorations. He'd tried to set a few students up during the last school trip at the abandoned caves he called the "test of courage". It didn't work out, but second times a charm? He'd at least get one couple together this time.

The goal of today's "lecture" was to find a way out of the end class building without breaking any windows. Korosensei mentioned it would test everyone's problem solving abilities as assassins in training. First pair to successfully find the exit through a series of side quests, riddles and puzzles each got two free strikes at Korosensei's tentacles.

The catch? Everyone had a a rope tied around their wrist to a partner. Every move made meant your partner would be right beside you. You got stuck with Karma. You suspected it was not likely by coincidence.

Karma is very cute, but he's also the second worst classmate to be tied to. (First goes to Okajima)

“Karma will you stay still for one minute? You’re bruising my wrist!”

"I'm trying to reach the envelope on the ceiling, will you jump at the right time?"

"There's an easier way to do that."

You yanked the rope on him making him stumble over to you, you brought out a desk together and he was able to use it as a stool.

He opened the envelope and read it to you, "If you found this note go to teachers lounge to look for your next assignment.”

Hint: Keep your eyes out for something four-legged that cannot walk and has a back but no front.

You and Karma headed over to the designated location when you bumped into Rio and Okajima who looked like they wanted to kill one another.

Rios eyes softened when she looked at you. "[Name]! How's your search going?"

"Well we found a-"

Karma put his hand over your mouth before you could tell them about the note. He's not risking his win. "It's going boring, but we do need this room to ourselves, ya mind leaving?"

"Oh you want to be aloneee? Okajima get moving!"

Rio pushed him out the door. "Why couldn't I get stuck with Kanzaki..." "IM THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE COMPLAINING YOU..." Their argument got quieter as they left the area.

You looked back at Karma, "She definitely got the wrong idea."

"Yeah I wouldn't kiss you in this room."

You glared at him, "Solve the riddle before I choke you with the same rope we're tied to."

He mocking stuck his tongue out "Four legs, doesn't walk, it's obviously a chair [Name]! This is too easy."

He turned to get the envelope stuck under one of the chairs.

"Let's read it in the hall, the lights in this room are acting up."

You turned the handle but the door wouldn't budge. You started shaking the door harder hoping it would open. Karma chuckled, then he tried to open it himself and it wasn't so funny anymore.

"Do you think this is apart of the test or are we stuck?" You ask Karma.

He grinned "Change of plans, If Korosensei comes in here I'm going to need you to act possessed."

"I agree we've got to teach him a lesson on not playing Cupid or whatever but how do I do that?"

"Act crazy? Like you normally are but with more enthusiasm and growling."

You snatched the letter from him, "I'll read it."

Instructions: Close the blinds, then hold your partner's hands, chant your names in unison three times... the spirit you summon will lead you to the next step.

Holding Karmas hand while a spirit, Korosensei came to scare you two? It was clear He was trying to get you to cling onto the guy, you could only wonder how many classmates fell for one of his cheap tricks already?

Your question was quickly answered when you heard a girlish scream that sounded eerily like Maehara. Atleast one!

You chanted your names with your hands knitting together the lights completely went off in the room, you braced yourself for what would come.

Korosensei flew into the room and busted the door, you noticed his weird costume as he stood right in-front of you reciting cliche warrior dialogue you could've swore you heard in some movie Karma made you watch a week ago, Sonic Ninja something.

Without missing a beat you twisted your back and hands and started charging backwards towards your teacher, Karma had to crouch weirdly and run at the same time to not drag you down.

Korosensei sped out of the room yelling, about ten seconds later he was back with a set of candles and who knows what else to try to exorcise you.

By that time you and Karma were laughing trying to pick each other back up after you hit yourself on the ground because he stopped running and accidentally yanked you back.

Karma pointed down at Korosensei's wig which fell off when he flew out the class "Was he wearing a powdered wig?!"

Neither of you had noticed Korosensei made it back because of how much you were laughing. Karma ran his one free hand through your hair and face as if to check if you were hurt. It was weirdly gentle for how he usually is. He was casual about it, his confidence made moments like these feel completely natural and comfortable no matter how rare they were.

Maybe the haunted house didn't go exactly how Korosensei intended it to, but this was a sweet enough outcome.

"Nufufufu…"

"Korosenseiii, you ruined the moment!"

Karma laughed softly "That was a moment?"

You headed straight for the door.

"[Name] I'm still tied to you slow down!"

When you refused to listen he tugged back on the rope and wrapped his arms around you.

“Alright, I concede it was a little bit of a moment.”

[bechaerriezlvr]

missing you

idol!maki x idol!reader

part one out of two

synopsis: you’re calling your boyfriend from another country and miss him way too much

no use of y/n, endearments like babe and baby, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF! slightttyy angst, sweet boy maki, gn!reader? (at least i tried to make it that way) second person pov.

very short write, trying to drain out my drafts 🥹 this will also be two parts!

hope you enjoy, xoxo 💋💋

“maki, you’re gonna burn the cake!”

“do you not trust me?”

“no.”

long distance relationships were hard but maki made them seem easy. constantly calling, texting, sending packages and letters, etc. yet there are times he can’t due to tour or whatever he has in schedule, but he’s quick to apologize. its quite normal for that to occur given the struggle of being an idol yourself. stages where you get to see him, even if he’s across the room, get you excited and searching for him. it’s that time of the night where your schedules finally align, facetiming him as your members are either asleep, eating, or live.

“i cook for you all the time!” he fights.

“and?? i help you with that AND baking, if your apartment catches on fire it’s your fault you don’t have a home, not mine!”

“hey, that makes it an excuse for me to live with you.”

“like our managers would like that,” you roll your eyes. “what would luné think?”

“well, they’d have to learn how to understand, wouldn’t they?”

“oh, babe,” you laugh.

his phone is set on the counter as he tries to bake his cravings of cake (which he’s been trying to do for about an hour and a half by now). your phone leans against your headboard, carefully tilted so it doesn’t fall through the gap between the frame and your bed. you lay on your stomach, head resting on your pillow and blankets wrapped around you like a cape. you say you look like an absolute mess, but in maki’s eyes you’re nothing short of beauty. even with your slightly messy hair, glasses on, remnants of eye glitter stuck on your face and red spots around your neck from your itchy jewelry; maki sees his stunning partner who is perfectly fine with being vulnerable with their comfort. maki reassures you that he’s the same way, but even with his face stripped of makeup, and his hair being “so messed up,” or even being bloated from eating “too much” he still looks like he’s sculpted by the gods.

as the time runs, you see a peep of the sky from his window and look out at yours, noticing the clear time difference. whether you’re typically emotional or not, your eyes can’t help but well up a pool of saline in your tear ducts. you missed him. you needed him. you two barely get the time to hug each other, not even enough to see one another for more than two minutes. maki’s eyes flicker to yours as the freshly baked (slightly burnt) cake sits on the counter. his lights are now off and he’s found himself comfortable, wrapped in blankets in the living room with his glasses on, making it seem like he was right there with you.

“what’s wrong?” he whispers, muttering cutely as if he was afraid to ask.

“hm? nothing,” you reply. you press your lips together in hesitance. (i imagine the face you’re making to be the bread face but idk what that’s formally called 🥹)

“you’re lying.”

“it’s nothing.”

“i’ll keep prying”

“it’s.. it’s stupid.”

“nuh uh, no such thing. tell me, baby, what is it?”

“no, i feel like a little kid.”

“i do sometimes too.”

“… i miss you, like it’s unbearable. and don’t even flatter yourself ‘cause im being for real.” maki sighs, looking at you through the screen in awe. you can see his eyes settle on your face through the reflection of his glasses.

“now that’s not stupid,” he whispers, comfortingly. “i miss you all the time.”

“do you really, or are you lying?”

“ask yuma, he’s gonna rip my head off if i say your name one more time. it’s almost hard for them to give impressions of me on talk shows without mentioning your name. although they haven’t yet because, you know, privacy.” you look down, feeling melancholy.

“i just wish i was there with you.”

“i know, my love. but when i see you next, whenever that is, you’ll have gifts waiting for you.”

“really?”

“yes, really.”

“well i might just book a flight ticket to go and see you.” you say, half serious. “i might even beg for hiatus just to spend some time.” maki laughs.

“i don’t see why not,” he shrugs. “but knowing hybe, that’s unrealistic.”

“maybe,” you reply, while texting your manager.

you 💋: would it be a bad idea to catch a flight and go on a short hiatus? i don’t even think i’d take no for answer.

[starseungs]

lunchtime tea, served by yours truly. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — getting dragged over to the student council office instead of the cafeteria was far from your lunchtime plans. too bad seungmin seemed to think otherwise.

genre/s — fluff, humor if it counts, historical fantasy, academy au, duke's son!seungmin x marquis' daughter!y/n • 1.3k words

warning/s — petty noble disputes, seungmin implies a nepotism plan (laughs nervously), both of them are in their second to the last year of academy = they're both around 21 !!

note — here's a short fic i whipped up as i finish take a shot ! yes, its inspired by those rofan manhwas with academy arcs/settings. im obsessed with those ngl

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

“Would it really be such a crime to enjoy one peaceful lunch session, Your Grace?”

You sank down with a huff on the smooth velvety sofa propped in the middle of the spacious office room, not paying any mind to the way the door shut with a soft click despite your strong swing to open it earlier. A pair of footsteps other than yours echoed in the space, the flat, heavy heels of the figure’s shoes clacking with strong authority. Yet, you remained unfazed despite the strong aura permeating the enclosure—choosing to stand your ground with a click of a tongue.

Seungmin sighed at the sight of your demeanor. 

“And I believe it would be against academy ordinance for you to call me by that title within the campus premises, Lady Y/N.” He reprimands you with a low drawl before carefully taking a seat at his desk located front and center against a massive glass window, his silhouette strengthening as he leans forward to rest his arms on the desk. You could only whine in mockery at his reply.

“Boo,” you scoffed before crossing your arms and craning your head to stare at him. “Such a stickler for the rules, are you not?”

Seungmin hummed. “I suppose you may be right, but could I also offer you information on my father’s well-being?” He says with a tone implying sweetness, even if you knew otherwise. 

“The Duke is alive and well—yes, I am aware,” you pressed for a smile as innocent as you could manage, enjoying the way Seungmin’s formal facade fell apart slightly before getting gathered up once again. The young Lord cleared his throat before continuing the questionable exchange between the two of you.

“Therefore, we should not be having this conversation in the first place.”

“However, you are the heir to the dukedom, if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, you do.”

You then brought your hands together in a resounding clap at his answer, signifying a remarkable conclusion. “Then it is the same thing.”

Seungmin groaned tiredly at your unbelievable words. “It is clearly not—” he suddenly paused mid-sentence. You watched as his eyes narrowed with an inquisitive glint before he took an obvious intake of air. “I’m getting the slight inkling that you are doing this to raise my temper.”

A prominent laugh bubbled its way out of your throat. “I do find that side of you quite charming, yes.”

“I will pretend to not hear your comment, My Lady,” Seungmin pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to subside his growing stress. “And I would like to inform you belatedly that a peaceful lunch should be the last of your priorities at the moment.”

The involuntary squawk that came out of you voiced your offense. “Well, this is surprising news, as I have not received any notice about a new dietary restriction!”

“It is not—” Seungmin caught himself again. You grinned mischievously at his obvious struggle before collecting yourself when you felt a pointed glare being sent in your direction. He exhaled heavily, “Proceeding with the matter at hand, are you aware of the number of complaints the Theta group has placed upon your name?”

“I do believe there has not been a single soul in this academy who has not,” you hummed in acknowledgement.

“My Lady, forgive me for being rude; however, the answer I was hoping for was to be about how you are planning on addressing this issue.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Then, I plan to do nothing about the issue.”

A small thud was heard from Seungmin’s direction, prompting you to look over to see what had caused such a sound. Low and behold, the sight of the academy’s best student holding his head down towards the polished mahogany desk in defeat—rendering you unsure of what to do next. There had only been a few times in your entire lifetime that you had seen Seungmin completely shatter his dignified demeanor, and you had known the man since you were six. Now you fear that you had actually crossed a line. 

“Y/N,” he raised his head ever so slightly to lock eyes with you, his next order coming out as a plea. “Just explain why you poured a cup of tea over Lady Colette’s head.” 

“Then forgive me as well for my words. However, in my perspective, Theta is nothing but a pathetic excuse for an institutional social group,” you sighed, remembering the events of the tea party yesterday. “I do not know why they still prove to be the most popular social group for ladies when the Zeta group has always been better. Theta are barely anything worth more than a babble of obnoxious noble daughters who prefer to place themselves on a higher pedestal than they deserve. Lady Colette was terrorizing a freshman from a country-side barony. I only did my best to stop her, considering the fact that mere words seemed to hold no interest for her.”

Seungmin raised a brow. “Quite an interesting way of describing them, don’t you think?”

“Well, I did send my apologies before doing so, did I not?” You smiled back as part of your reply, proudly this time. Seungmin could only scoff, albeit greatly amused.

“You have got to stop trying to outsmart me in times like these, Y/N,” he said, standing up. “You of all people should know how much I lack the ability to harbor ill feelings towards you.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at his surprisingly favorable response. For holding the most coveted position of justice available for students in this academy, Seungmin was surely pressing less strongly on your faults. Perhaps it was a good thing that you still made sure to cool the tea before you dumped it on that Marquis’ pompous daughter.

“Playing favorites, are we now, Mr. President?”

Seungmin laughed openly this time. Talk about a change of mood. “I see that you have now chosen to switch to a different formality, yet again,” he mused on his way towards your figure on the couch. “See, you wouldn’t have this much trouble with other noble ladies if you just joined the student council.”

“Here you go again with your offer,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You of all people should know exactly why I cannot take a position in the council, Seungmin.”

“In my opinion, it would be seen as a reasonable training ground for the future Duchess.”

“You just like the way I do paperwork!” You expressed disbelief at his plan’s implication. “And high society might as well burn me into ashes, thinking that I take advantage of my position as your betrothed.”

Seungmin sighed dreamily, completely disregarding your latter comment. “I do love the way you do your paperwork. Such a perfect pair to my work ethic,” he says, sitting comfortably beside you with a relaxed exhale. “Yes, I genuinely do not see what is so wrong about the offer.”

“Seungmin,” you scowled at him. “Do you wish to put a stain on your reputation?”

“Oh, look at you scolding me as if we had already stated our vows,” Seungmin pinched your cheek in a tease. You attempted to push his hand away, only for him to grab it and intertwine your fingers, leaving you breathless as he placed a feathery kiss on your knuckles. “My dearest fiancee, I do not care what others may think of me. If I am able to, I will give anything you ask for without a silver of hesitation.” He gazed directly at your eyes, pupils swimming with unknown desire.

“My Duchess only deserves the best, after all.”

You pursed your lip at his intimate actions, feeling your stomach do crazed flips at his undivided attention. “It is quite concerning how biased you seem to be when it comes to this matter, Mr. President,” you gave in, letting yourself fall on his broad shoulder. “What have I even done to warrant your unyielding obsession with me?”

Seungmin’s chest rumbled in delight, the lull comforting your mind glazed over with his presence.

“Exist. Now, what do you think of becoming Vice President next year?”

“Serve me tea first, and I'll think about it.”

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