#and then I just sat in my room thinking about the world for days

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door*

Summary: Joe’s boredom turns into an amazing night.

Warnings: Smut (Sending nudes, role-playing?, male masturbation, one-way phone sex, PIV sex, F and M receiving oral)

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Misc.

August, 2024

It was a couple of days after the final Bengals preseason game. Joe was alone in his big house because I, his beloved girlfriend, was out getting dinner with some of my girls before the hustle and bustle of the upcoming NFL season would occupy the majority of my time.

Joe was frustrated. He had only played one drive in the first preseason game and didn't even play in the others.

This season had to go his way. It had to. And unfortunately, that's all he could think about now that he was alone with his thoughts.

I was his biggest comfort. His home away from home. And now that I was away from home… he was having some serious problems.

It was honestly adorable how he had desperation anxiety from me, but any time I said that he'd just pout and whine. Unfortunately for him, his annoyance with the fact I found his pain endearing only made him cuter.

Joe was sat on the couch, every light in the house off, the soft pink throw blanket that was my blanket cuddled up to his chest as he buried his nose in it. The familiar scent filled his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut as contentment filled his body.

In his Seinfeld sweatpants and pink Nike hoodie - the hoodie of his that he knew was my favorite to steal - he was physically comfortable. Mentally, though? He was scattered and in desperate need of a distraction.

Joe’s eyes glanced around the room, trying to find something to occupy his time with, but everywhere he looked just reminded him more of me and the fact that I was with my girls.

Then, his eyes fell to the remote. He grabbed it and barely lifted his arm in the direction of the TV. The screen lit up, and Joe rolled his eyes when the Love Island USA Reunion started playing.

Joe was never one for reality TV. He was more of a History Channel or documentary guy, but he sure as hell knew I loved Love Island. I waited for every episode, and he was right there on the couch with me, ready to lay on my chest and listen to my commentary.

Nothing playing on the TV seemed very interesting, so he just turned it back off, resting his face in the blanket and taking another big sniff.

“I miss you, baby,” Joe whispered to himself.

——

After a few minutes of loathing on the couch in silence, Joe pulled out his phone. He immediately opened his photos app and clicked on the only album he had. It was titled “Y/N❤️”.

A grin formed on his lips as he zoomed out, closing his eyes and scrolling back and forth before he clicked on a random picture. When he opened his eyes, Joe felt a flutter in his chest.

It was a newer picture. We were lying on the couch, similar to how Joe was right now, with me on my back and Joe cuddled on top of me. Joe had a wide smile on his face as my fingers were in his slightly grown-out bleached buzz cut. I was making a silly face; my tongue stuck out as I used my extended arm to take the picture.

Joe then repeated his process of picking a random picture, and this one made his stomach flutter. It was a picture post-Natti win.

We were in Joe’s hotel room bed, the sheets pulled up over our chests to cover the fact that we were both naked. Joe was the one taking the picture, and we both had deliriously big smiles on our faces.

Joe then scrolled, looking at the various pictures of us from that day. We were so happy that nothing could've wiped the grins from our faces.

If only they knew what was coming. Joe thought, and his smile faded.

He was on top of the world after he won the Championship, and it sealed the deal for him that he'd have a career in the NFL. Joe couldn't help but think about all of the things he'd gone through in his career so far.

I wish I could protect that kid…

Then Joe’s thoughts stopped. He stumbled upon a picture that took his breath away. It was a picture I’d taken the morning after his National Championship win. While he was out celebrating with his team, I had taken a little photoshoot for my champ. I had his used cigar between my lips, his “Big Dick Joe” hat on my head, and nothing on but his letterman jacket loosely laying on my shoulders.

Then, Joe got an idea.

Joe jumped off the couch, a sly grin on his face as he ran down to the basement. He flipped the light on, passing the home gym door towards the back of the huge space where things were stored. He then used his fingerprint to unlock the door. When Joe proposed a fingerprint lock, I originally thought it was stupid, but Joe said it would make him feel like a comic villain with a secret lair, and there's no way I'd deny him of that, so he happily ordered it.

Once it was open he looked around the room. There was a locked-up trophy case containing many awards, including his Heisman. On the other side of the small closet were a few totes. One labeled ‘High School’, another ‘College’, and the most recent ‘Bengals’.

Joe stepped forward, picking the lid off of the college tote with that un-wipable grin on his face. He dug through it for a few minutes before he saw the unmistakable yellow fabric making a block letter L.

He pulled it out of the tote, setting it aside before he continued digging. Near the bottom was a small box, and when Joe opened it, he was met with the cigar he had smoked that very day just a few years ago.

It was still in perfect condition, so he put it back in the box and sat it with his letterman jacket. Then, Joe continued to dig in the box for the last thing he needed.

It didn't take long for him to find his snapback, and soon, he was jogging back upstairs. This wasn't usually something Joe would even entertain, but he was bored, and he thought he would treat you with a little gift. You'd been through a lot with him this off-season, especially since he was longer than the rest of the team, and since the new season was starting, he was gonna repay you. This was just a start.

Once on the main level of the house, Joe continued and ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Though he was home alone, Joe shut and locked the door behind him.

Joe then got naked, somewhat awkwardly sitting down on the bed. He sat his phone down and got comfortable before slipping his letterman jacket onto his bare arms.

After the jacket was in place, Joe opened the cigar box, loosely putting it between his lips, and barely placing the hat on his head. He did that on purpose, having an idea set in his mind.

All that was left was well… a little bit more complicated. Joe looked down at his lap, seeing his soft cock, and realizing he kinda has to get hard for this.

Joe grabbed his phone, pulled up the most recent lingerie pic I’d sent him, and slowly ran his fingers over his dick. The teasing mixed with the picture had him stiffening up, and Joe fully wrapped his hand around his length once he was somewhat hard.

That's when his phone came into play. Joe took his phone out, running his thumb over the slit of his tip to coax some pre-cum to come out, and pumped himself harder to get his length a deeper red color.

Opening up the video, Joe had the camera facing his face, and he hit record.

Joe was grinning, that cigar in his mouth as pants left his lips. He was making sure the letterman jacket was in view, along with the words Big Dick Joe on his hat. His eyes fluttered shut, and his head fell back - his hand speeding up - and his hat fell off his head, revealing the frosted tips he knew I was obsessed with.

A tiny whimper left his lips, and Joe flipped the camera, showing off his big hand stroking his even bigger cock. The veins in his hands flexed with every pump, and his length was throbbing with anticipation. Joe recorded for a couple more seconds, letting a whimper of your name fall from his lips before he ended the video.

Joe let go of his cock, intently watching the video back to make sure he had executed what he had in mind, and he did.

Once Joe cropped the video to his liking, he opened his chat with you and pulled up the video. Was sending a video that intimate while you were out with your friends at Jeff Ruby’s risky? Yes. Did he hit send anyway? Yes.

—

Your POV

I was talking to one of my friends about how we were missing the Love Island Reunion when I felt my phone buzz in my lap. I excused myself from the conversation and picked up my phone. When I saw Joe’s name I was a little worried, but when I saw that it was a video… that worriedness changed to confusion.

Opening the attachment, I audibly gasped when I saw Joe fully decked out in his old LSU gear. It was like he was back at LSU just looked a little older. God, he looked so fucking hot.

When the camera flipped, my jaw fell open, and my eyebrows shot up. I immediately exited the app and put my phone in my lap.

A couple of my girls were looking at me funny, so I excused myself to the bathroom before calling Joe.

—

Joe’s POV

After I sent the video, I just sat and stared at my phone. I honestly forgot the fact that I was going to have to finish what I started until my phone buzzed from an incoming call from you. The mere sight of your name popping up made my dick twitch, reminding me of my dilemma.

“Hey, baby,” Joe’s gruff voice hit your ear like a freight train.

“Joesph Lee Burrow! What in the fuck did you just send me?!” You weren't mad, not one bit, but the prospect of Joe sending such a revealing video while you were out with your friends had you a bit shaken up.

I froze. Was she… mad?

“I wanted to send you a little surprise. Did you not like it?” Joe’s voice gave away his nervousness. All he wanted was to give you a surprise - repay you for all of the pre-game lingerie pics you've sent, and the chance that he'd fucked it up had his heart sinking.

“Oh, I loved it… but sending it while I was out was risky,” You reassured him.

I was silent for a few seconds, relief flushing over my body along with a strong wave of desire. The sound of her voice made my cock twitch with anticipation, reminding me of the fact I was still very hard.

“Baby, did you hear me?” You asked Joe, noticing his silence after you had said you were leaving dinner early to come home to him. “Sorry… what’d you say, babe?” Joe said back, slowly inching his free hand over his thigh.

“I said I’m gonna come home early,” You repeated. As the words left her lips, I wrapped my hand around the base of my cock. My eyes fluttered shut, my head falling back slightly as I slowly started moving my hand.

As you got in your car and rattled on about various things that happened at your dinner, my hand started moving faster. I clung to every word that left your lips, the combination of your soft voice and the movement of my hand easily getting me off.

“K-keep talkin’, Mama,” Joe groaned. I wasn't trying to make it obvious about what I was doing, but I couldn't help it. God, I needed more.

“After that, Lex said that she found out he was sending nudes to other girls!” You continued to rattle on, but I couldn't comprehend anything you were saying. I heard the words, but I had no idea what you were actually saying.

As you continued to talk, I found myself getting closer… and closer. My lips were sucked into my mouth, hanging on for dear life as I tried to stay quiet.

One hand was holding my phone to my ear, and the other was tightly wrapped around my cock, pumping over and over.

I felt myself getting closer pretty soon, the richness of your beautiful voice bringing a familiar heat to my stomach, only making me want to move my hand faster.

“Joey? You listening, baby?” Immediately, I fell over the edge. I dropped my phone, my hand going to my mouth and the other tightly gripping the sheets as I came up on my stomach.

My chest was heaving, and I was panting for air. I stayed there for a moment, just trying to calm down with my head leaned back and my eyes closed with a sense of contentment.

After a moment, I realized I was still on the phone with you, so I discreetly ended the call without saying a word. I took a few minutes to clean myself up before I called you back.

“Hey, baby. My phone died, sorry.” Though I lied, I couldn't help but laugh when you immediately started right back up with your story. “Don't laugh! This is juicy shit, babe!” I laughed again.

“Oh, I hear ya. How much longer till you get home?” A soft giggle left your lips, my cheeks getting rosy at the sound. “Turning on our street right now. Are you that eager for it?”

I chuckled, “Did that video not give that away already?”

—

Your POV

When I arrived home, I quickly parked in the garage and practically jumped out of the car. The video Joe had sent me kept replaying in clips in my mind, and to say I was worked up would be an understatement.

My pace was quick, walking up our front steps with a sense of urgency. The door was unlocked, thankfully, and I hurriedly entered.

After tossing my keys into the bowl we use for such, I kicked my shoes off and entered the home. Immediately, the familiarity and warm atmosphere calmed me down, but there was still a deep throb of need inside me.

The sight of Joe in all of his old LSU geer with his updated and older looks was… whew. A sight behold. The addition that he was jerking off while dressed as so only made the whole situation a hundred times hotter.

“Babyyyyy??” I called out into the quiet home. There weren't any lights on downstairs. Joe never answered, so I went upstairs, figuring he was in bed.

Upon entering the bedroom, I couldn't help but chuckle when my eyes landed on Joe. He was lying on the bed on his right side, his left arm bent behind his head and his left leg bent and propped up. All while only wearing boxers. I could tell he was trying to be sexy, but he just ended up looking incredibly silly.

“Why are you laughing at me??” Joe whined. The pout forming on his lips made me laugh harder. In response to my laugh, Joe dramatically flopped onto his stomach, hiding his face in the pillow. “I was trying to be sexy,” his muffled voice said.

I shrugged my dress off, watching him with a grin on my face before I shot my panties - slingshot style - at the back of his head. He didn't move for a minute, so I slid into bed next to him. Joe then animatedly grabbed the balled-up fabric, his head peeking up once he felt the lace.

A smirk pulled at his lips, and he quickly got under the covers with me. I grinned as Joe leaned up, leering over me with a soft smile on his face. “I know you're trying to be sexy, but you look adorable,” Joe’s smile dropped, and he rolled his eyes, “Don't roll your eyes at me!” I laughed.

Joe grinned yet again, leaning down to attach his lips to mine. We both sighed into the kiss, my arms going around his neck as he leaned down more. The sound of our kisses filled the air, and Joe shifted closer. I could feel the hardness in his boxers poking at my thigh, making me grin against his mouth.

I pulled away a second later, “Lay back, Joe.” Joe abided, pulling away and laying on his back. For a while now, Joe’s hyper-fixation has been getting his face ridden, but I had shot him down every time. The position he had in mind had my self-conscious mind weary, but because of the treat he sent me, I thought to repay him.

Joe, who was still patiently lying on his back, figured I was about to give him head, so when I abruptly straddled his face, his eyes went wide. Joe swore his heart stopped for a second.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Without warning, Joe grabbed my thighs and yanked me down. A loud moan left my lips as Joe started using his tongue through my folds, the tip of his perfect ski-slope nose rubbing on my clit.

“Joe… Joe- fuck!” I moaned, my hand reaching down and gripping his hair. Joe’s eyes rolled into his head as I ground on his face, his tongue still going at a merciless pace.

A minute later, Joe tapped my thigh frantically, and I figured it was because he needed me to stop for a second for him to catch his breath. I leaned up onto my knees, and Joe slipped a finger into my tight heat. “Baby, we’re gonna have to make this a sixty-nine moment, or I'm bustin’ in my boxers.” Joe was panting hard, his hair wild, and his eyes having a matching crazed look.

Joe added a second finger, pumping for a few moments before I nodded in agreement. He slipped his fingers out, and I flipped around, now facing the rest of his body.

I licked my lips at the sight of the major tent in his boxers, and I hooked my fingers in the elastic, slowly pulling the fabric down. My stomach fluttered with anticipation when his cock sprang up, fully erect and flushed red.

Without warning - just like Joe had done to me earlier - I flattened my tongue against the base, following a thick vein up his length before swirling my tongue around his tip and wrapping my lips around him.

Joe whimpered into my folds, the vibration making me moan around his cock, which started the chain reaction. Joe was eating me out like a man-starved, making me moan around him, which would then make Joe moan or whimper against me… and the process continued.

Not even two minutes in, Joe fell over the edge hard. My moans and whimpers around his cock, paired with the taste of my sweet heat, were too much and too overwhelming for him to last long.

I lapped up every bit of his release, and I fell over the edge not long after him. Out of exhaustion, I rolled off of Joe, faceplanting on the bed.

“Goddamn, baby.” Joe panted after a few minutes. In my peripherals, I could see the fact that his cock was still hard, and I immediately knew this wasn't over. He was nowhere near done.

My eyes were closed for just a few seconds when I heard sheets rustling, and when I opened my eyes, Joe was leaning on top of me. There was a mischievous grin on his face, and when he leaned down to my ear and whispered, he sent a shiver down my spine, “You up for more?”

“Y-” The words were caught in my throat as Joe started pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses from my ear down my neck. While doing so, Joe teasingly dragged his tip through my aching folds. When his dripping, throbbing tip met my bundle of nerves, I couldn't help but whimper, “Please, Joe.”

Joe let out a dark chuckle, sucking on a sensitive spot in my neck before darting his tongue out to lick over the spot, “What, baby? Say that again for me.”

“Pl-” Just as the start of the word left my lips, Joe slammed his entire length inside. All of the air left my lungs, and I moaned out, one hand gripping his back as the other found its way into his hair.

“God, Mama. You feel so good,” Joe groaned.

Joe set a fast pace, his face tensing up in pleasure as my walls clenched him hard, still not over the first orgasm he gave me.

“Faster… please,” I moaned, and Joe happily obliged. “I got ya, baby.” Joe made sure his mouth was right next to my ear, and every pant that followed every thrust drove me wild.

A few minutes in, Joe was close, and I could tell, but he was holding off like he always does, determined to make me finish first. “Joey… please… I'm close!” Immediately, Joe started moving faster and harder, his thumb moving down to rub my clit. He had to bite back a whimper when he felt how slick it had become down between us, and he dropped his head to watch my walls swallow his cock.

When the tip of Joe’s length hit that spot, it sent me over the edge immediately, moaning loudly as I scraped my nails over Joe’s back. Joe started slowing his thrusts, trying not to overstimulate me too much, but I grinned to myself as a plan formed in my head.

Mustering up all my strength and energy, I practically shoved Joe and rolled over on top of him. Now, he was under me. Joe’s eyes were wide, and without giving him a second to think, I braced myself by putting my hands on his chest and started riding his length.

“Holy… holy fuck,” Joe whimpered. His hands frantically gripped into the sheets before he shakily moved his hands to my hips, guiding me with all his strength.

Joe had already been close moments ago, so now that I was fully going to town on him, it took no time for him to be on the edge.

After abruptly sitting up, Joe buried his head into my neck, moaning and whimpering like his life depended on it. “I’m right there… I’m right there…” Joe whimpered, and he continued to pant into my ear, his chest heaving as he felt that familiar feeling form in his stomach, “I… I- fuck, I’m cumming, Mommy.”

My eyes went wide at the nickname. Joe had only ever called me that in a joking manner over texts, so to hear it come out of his mouth in this situation drove me wild. After the endearment left his lips, my walls clenched down on him hard, sending him over the edge.

Joe came hard, his body shaking as he emptied his load deep inside me, and we both collapsed somewhere onto the bed.

After a few minutes of us both catching our breaths, I threw a hand over onto Joe’s chest to check on him, and he squeezed my hand in return. “Mommy, huh?” I teased him, and Joe only rolled his eyes, making me giggle.

“It’s your fault it slipped out. You had me damn near knockin’ on heaven's door.” Joe mumbled, his voice slightly raspy from the moaning he had just done.

I laughed at his silliness and his attempt at blaming it on me. “Knockin’ on heaven's door, huh?” I paused, and Joe nodded, “Did you know that's a song?”

“Hm?” Joe’s face showed a confused expression, and I had to shake my head with a grin painting my face. There was no way he knew what I was talking about, but it was worth a shot.

Authors note: Happy birthday to one of my favs ever, @starsinthesky5 . I hope this gives your bday a good ending.

PS: A thank you to both ^^^ and @joeyb1989 for getting me the motivation to not only write this BUT also post it. I love you both.

Requests;

Came from my own messed up head :)

[daniiiboo]

My Lover - lh43

Summary- Lover by Taylor Swift- Luke Hughes addition

Dani's thoughts- HOLY COW MY FIRST EVER TIME WRITING PLS BE NICE

warnings - one freaky man

There’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

Luke can remember the day he and you met like it was yesterday. It was one of those cliche moments where the pair bumps into each other, spilling coffee on each other. In this case, Luke was late to hockey practice, and you were late to meet your friends. As you went to exit the cafe, Luke was trying to enter. Both of you were looking down at your phones, disassociating yourself from the world.

“Shit!” Luke said as he walked into you, your coffee spilling on his shirt. You immediately looked up, wanting to know who you spilled your coffee on. Looking up at Luke your eyes met, and you both stopped for a moment. You looked at his grayish-blue eyes, immediately getting lost in them. You quickly snapped yourself out of it.

“Oh my! I am really so sorry!” you said, grabbing napkins from the side table. “Shoot, stand still I-” you said, panicking to get Luke’s shirt as clean as possible.

“It's fine it's fine I swear,” Luke started, “it's not the end of the world, just a shirt. And I wasn't even looking so it's my fault.”. You looked up at Luke confusingly, wondering how he was so calm and caught you in such a dazzling haze.

“No! I was the one not looking, I should have been careful I had coffee!” you finally got out, so confused as to why Luke pinned the blame to you. Luke shook his head and sighed, 

“Okay okay, can I buy you a coffee at least? To make up for this mess?”. 

“I- er- fine” you finally gave in, not wanting to protest and make yourself anymore late. Plus, there was a mysterious way about him that pulled you in.

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

After you and Luke bumped into each other, you hung out ever since.  Months into the friend phase, you and Luke finally went on your first date. Instead of going to a fancy restaurant, or somewhere public, you went on a quiet picnic in the park with him, just how you liked it. As you and Luke got to the park, Luke pulled out a blanket, placing it down before sitting down with you. Then, he pulled out the food from the basket, placing them in front of the two of you.

“Luke, how did you know these were my favorite?” you asked him, grabbing the food he sat down in front of you. 

“Mhh, I just knew” Luke responded, a little embarrassed that you pointed this out.

“Awhh Lukey thank you.” You then said, hugging him as best as you could with a basket in the middle of you guys while you sat. As you ate your food, and enjoyed your time with Luke, you couldn’t help but think “even though you have known him for 2 months, has it actually been 2 years? I mean he knows you so well.”.

We could let our friends crash in the living room 

This is our place, we make the call

Even though you enjoyed your quiet days in, every once in a while you would go out with Luke. This was one of those nights. You had just watched the Devils play a hard game that went into shootouts, and they thankfully won. As a celebration of the team's hard work, they all decided to go out together. That's how you ended up at a random bar full of devil players and their WAGS. Usually you have a couple drinks with Luke, but you got convinced by his brother, Jack, to do shots. And when you get started, good luck stopping you. You were on your 5th, 8th, 10th shot? You didn’t know at this point. You were having a good time dancing on the dance floor while Luke watched over you. Eventually, you got to the point where if you had another shot, you might pass out.

“Lu do we need to go? I was havin’ fun!” you exclaimed as Luke wrapped his arm around your waist, supporting you as you walked. 

“I bet you were sweetheart, but you are barely able to stand.” Luke explained to you as he gently guided you out of the bar, into the street. When you walked into the cold air, you were welcomed by Luke’s brother and two other teammates, equally as drunk as you.

“Lukey boy! Finally we were waiting for you! Are you gonna call the uber?” Jack asked, wrapping his arm around Luke’s shoulders.

“Yeah yeah” Luke answered, pushing Jack’s arm off his shoulders, then grabbing his phone and quickly ordering an uber for the group. 

When the uber finally arrived at you and Luke’s shared apartment, everyone got out, somehow managing to make their way up the stairs, to the apartment door.

“Guys, I need to get by, I need to unlock the door.” Luke tried to explain to the drunk people standing in front of him, lighting pushing his way through the crowd. Eventually, Luke managed to unlock the door, allowing everyone else to barrel their way inside. 

“Guys, I’m not sure you want to stay here, I can call you an uber or-” Luke tried to persuade Jack and his friends, not wanting them to stay in the apartment.

“Lu, shhhh,” you started, “we could let our friends crash in the living room. This is our place, we make the call.” you said as you kissed him lightly, looking back at the three people in the living room, already passed out on the couch.

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

Normally dating a man, you wouldn’t be insecure when women try to go after your man. You know that if he was loyal to you, he wouldn’t cheat on you. But, now that you date a popular hockey player, you find yourself feeling insecure. You know you shouldn’t feel this way, Luke is the most loyal boyfriend you have ever had, but still, the insecurities seep into your brain.

As you were waiting for Luke to come out of the changing room after his game,  you watched the girls gather around the barriers. Luke, looking exhausted, walked out of the room, his eyes searching for you. When his eyes met yours, you could see how his eyes lit up, immediately smiling. Instead of talking to the girls who waited for him, and signing their jerseys, he made his way directly to you. The screaming and squealing of the random girls got drowned out by Luke pulling you into a hug and telling you how much he missed you.

“I’m so glad you were here to see me today.” Luke murmured in your ear, pulling you in closer, if that was even possible.

“Of course lu.” you responded, melting into his hug. 

“Let's get out of here, I want to get home.” Luke said, letting go of you and grabbing your hand instead. You nodded, agreeing with him, the sound of the girls screaming giving you a slight headache.

And at every table, i'll save you a seat, lover

You got invited to a friend's birthday party at her house. It was a smallish get together, with maybe 20-30 ish people. You arrived early to the party, getting ready with your friends before the party started. Luke was supposed to get to the party on time, but he was a little late.

“Is anyone sitting here?” a man asked, motioning to the chair that was empty next to you.

“Yeah my boyfriend is going to be here.” you responded, not interested in the man bugging you.

“Well I don’t see him” he retorted. 

“Well yeah, I'm saving him a seat.” you told the man, as if it wasn’t obvious. 

“Well until he gets here, maybe I can keep you company?” You didn’t understand how a man couldn’t take a hint. Then as if God heard your prayers, Luke finally arrived.

“Hey angel,” Luke kissed the top of your head, “who's this?” 

“I dunno” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Oh- I- sorry man, i'll leave you guys alone” the man finally responded, backing away, leaving the two of you alone. You sighed in relief, glad the man was finally leaving you alone, and not bugging you any longer.

“Sorry I was late, I got stuck in traffic.” Luke explained why he was late. 

“It’s fine, wanna get something to eat now?” you asked, as your stomach growled. Luke laughed and nodded his head,

“Let's get you something to eat.”.

Darling, you’re my, my, my, my, Lover

You found yourself standing in the middle of their living room, watching Luke through the kitchen doorway. He was humming softly to himself as he stirred something on the stove, completely unaware of you watching him.

“Do you need help with that?” you asked,  breaking the silence between them. Luke glanced over his shoulder, his face lighting up with a grin.

“Nope, I’ve got it,” he said, his voice warm and easy,  “Why don’t you just relax? I’ve got dinner covered tonight.” You crossed the room and leaned against the kitchen counter, folding your arms across your chest. You watched as Luke finished stirring and reached for the wine glasses on the counter. The way he moved, so confident and comfortable in their space, made you feel like you were right where you belonged. With Luke.

The world outside was distant now, nothing mattered but the quiet rhythm of their hearts, beating in sync as they sat there, tangled together in the warmth of their love. For you, it was in these simple moments with Luke that everything felt right. The rest of the world could wait.

"You're my everything," Luke said, his voice barely audible, like he was sharing a secret with you.

You smiled, your heart full. 

“Always,” you replied, your voice steady, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on Luke’s hand.

“Always,” Luke echoed, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss.

word count- 1876

[leth-writes]

bait

SUMMARY: Damian would like to welcome you to the family.

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST: https://www.tumblr.com/leth-writes/757800060720496640/requests-open?source=share 

Requests are open!

Normally, Damian would hate being babied. He was a trained assassin, the blood of Ra’as Al Ghoul ran through his veins, he was the son of the feared Bat! And yet, here he was, sitting in your kitchen, watching you make him some (vegan) mac n’ cheese. 

Originally, Damian did not understand the obsession his family seemed to have with you. He spent days complaining, stomping around the manor, irritated that his family was wasting time with some… weakling. It seemed that every time he walked into a room, the only topic of discussion was you.

As one of the newer additions to the family, and a biological one at that, it seemed he had missed out on something vital to his family. So, he decided to just… ask, as his father would advise,  just why they were wasting time on someone who wouldn’t ever be able to adhere to the illustrious standards his family had set. 

The person he decided on was Grayson, someone he normally looked up to.

He sat across from his older brother, who was preoccupied with that insipid app that Drake had designed, keeping track of your vitals and ensuring your safety. Finally, fed up with being ignored, Damian cleared his throat to alert his brother of his presence.

Grayson looked up and beamed, bouncing up to flop down next to Damian. 

“What’s up, lil’ D?” Grayson asked, voice jovial even as he spared a glance at his screen.

“Tt. Grayson, I must… request your assistance.”

“Anything for you, lil’ D!” Grayson leaned over and rustled Damian’s hair. Damian, annoyed, fixed his hair and leaned away.

“I do not… I do not understand your recent… Preoccupation. It seems the family has decided, rather unanimously, that we will be gaining a new member. I do not understand why we must lower our standards!” He huffed, crossing his arms.

Grayson’s eyes softened. “Oh, lil’ D. It’s alright, you’re new, we should’ve known this would be confusing…” He looked away, staring out the window for a second, letting out a little sigh. 

“I’m not really sure how to explain it, but sometimes, sometimes people, especially people like us, get… passionate. Dinah likes to explain it away as the way we… deal with the constant loss, the uncertainty. Vigilantes don’t ever do anything in halves, afterall.”

“But why, but why them? They have nothing to add to our family, Grayson! They cannot fight, they are not trained, they have no extraordinary skills!” Damian huffed.

“Well, it doesn’t always make sense, Damian, and it doesn’t need to. Sometimes, sometimes people just… click, it doesn’t always have to make logical sense. I think if you got to know them, maybe you’d understand it a bit better.”

Grayson smiled, looking back at Damian. Damian looked away, blushing. He didn’t like not getting something; it made him feel vulnerable, weak, like he was missing out on something everyone else just seemed to get.

“And this is, this is… typical, for vigilantes such as our family?” He asked, voice quiet with mortification. Grayson smiled softly.

“Of course, Lil’ D. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate, and there’s no way we’re gonna let someone else get hurt. I mean, just think about it; do you think they could defend themselves?” 

Damian shook his head.

“And there’s no way they’ll be able to defend themselves. As vigilantes, especially in Gotham, we see the truth, we see how nasty the world can truly be. Most civilians just don’t get it. So, I think we can be forgiven for being a little intense, right?” He laughed, elbowing Damian gently.

“I mean, just think about Jon getting hurt.” 

Damian scowled. “I would not allow it. It would never happen.” He said, certainty clear in his voice.

Grayson snorted. “I know, Lil’ D. I’m just using him as an example; now take those feelings, and imagine if Jon couldn’t defend himself. “

“I-I do not know what I would do.”

“And that’s okay, you’ll get it eventually, okay? It’s hard to come to terms with, at first.”

“I still do not understand why you have chosen such an unworthy target for your affections, but I will… try. To understand.” Damian looked down, face tinged slightly red in embarrassment. 

Grayson ruffled his hair again, and peeked at his screen. “Maybe ask Cass to take you, or Jason? I have a shift in a little while. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you, Damian. It’s okay to have questions, to not get it. It’ll click eventually.”

So, Damian did.

While embarrassing, the idea of not getting something that was clearly of high importance to his family rankled in his chest. So, he approached Cain and asked for her help.

She was in her studio, as she normally was at noon on the weekends, working on a new routine. Damian paused in the door, waiting for her to finish up. No matter how many times he saw her, especially during her performances, he was always surprised by just how graceful the young woman managed to be.

It was normal for his family to move with a lithe grace, especially Grayson, who seemed to move so fluidly he lacked a skeletal structure, couldn’t compete with the natural poise Cain held herself with.

She finished up her routine with a flourish, then rose to her feet with a sigh. She floated over to her water bottle and took a sip, before turning around to face Damian. She smiled gently, eyes crinkling at the corners, her slightly damp choppy black hair framing her face perfectly.

“Little brother,” she said, delight clear in her voice. 

“Cain,” Damian greeted, nodding his head and moving into the room.

Cain sank to the floor, back against the mirrored wall, and patted the wooden floor next to her. 

“Sit,” she said.

He did. There was no refusing Cain, after all.

“You seem… confused.” She glanced over at him, taking another small sip.

“Yes. I do not… Understand the new obsession you have all taken with that Civilian.”

Cain nodded. “Yes.”

“Grayson explained the general feelings of protectiveness, but was unable to elaborate; why them?” Damian crinkled his face, nose scrunching.

Cain laughed. “Stubborn, not seeing.” She poked his forehead, startling him. He scowled further, rubbing the spot. It didn’t really hurt, but he was not about to let her get away with poking him like a child!

She snickered at his bewildered expression. 

“It is hard to explain… Instinct.” She hummed, looking away in contemplation.

“Innocence. They do not know… the violence, the heartache… they are kind.”

So it was about the contrast, Damian concluded. The difference between a trained vigilante and a weakling.

“They cannot… protect self. Need help. Like baby.” She continued, sighing and leaning a hand against her cheek, propped against her knees.

“Like… Like Titus, or Alfred the cat. Need looking after.”

Just like that, it clicked.

You were utterly defenseless. Completely alone, with no one to prevent you from being hurt, or worse, killed. You were like a young kitten, unable to open their eyes to see their savior, like the one Damian had fostered.

A warmth bloomed in his chest. You would be like the kitten, and he would protect your innocence, no matter the cost.

Cass smiled widely, scrunching her nose. 

Just like that, Damian was clamoring to get involved. He could not wait until you were home, and he would be able to ensure your safety, keeping you from losing that childlike innocence, that thin film over your eyes preventing you from seeing the true danger.

It was Drake who had the brilliant idea to place Damian in the field; Damian, for all of his sword-related faults, was still young, after all. Someone as naive as you would be sure to enjoy looking after such a cute child, not being able to see who was truly caring for who.

While both Grayson and Todd had failed to make your acquaintance, it seemed you were too aware of stranger danger to fully fall for the ruse, he knew Cain had made inroads as a member of your book club. Surely, having a young brother by her side would only make it easier to get closer to you.

And just like that, the trap was set, and Damian was ready to act.

The next week, your book club would be meeting to discuss the selected offerings. You had wisely offered up Pride and Prejudice. Damian could still hear the muffled curses Todd had let out; you had no clue the extent to which you had so thoroughly endeared yourself to him, just by picking an Austen novel. Damian could not help but be amused, Todd was easy to enthrall despite his tough exterior; it was almost comical. 

Cain had brought him with, dressed in clothes he was told were appropriate for his age (Grayson had laughed and forced him to stand for pictures. He would secure his revenge, and make sure to talk badly about him. He would be victorious in the so-called prank war, after all, and you would stand at his side, unscathed.).

You opened the door, smiling and bringing Cain in for a hug. Even from his position, he could see Cain melt into the hug, smiling and bringing an arm up to pat your back gently.

“Hello,” she sighed as you pulled back, looking her over.

“Oh, Hello!” you said, looking down at Damian. 

He sighed internally. It would take everything he had, but the thoughts of showing you Bat-Cow would get him through the evening. He smiled brightly, artificially pitching his voice up slightly.

“Hi!” He said, stepping forward and shaking your hand with vigor. “I’m Cass’s brother, Damian!”

“Oh, so you have a brother?” You said, smiling even brighter. It almost hurt Damian’s face in sympathy, how widely you were able to smile. Was it due to your innocence?

You ushered the two of them inside.

“Yes, Our father forgot Damian would be home tonight, and did not arrange for a babysitter.”

“Oh, that’s more than alright! Here, are you hungry, kiddo? I’ll make you something to snack on while the book club gets going! Cass, you can take a seat if you want.”

Damian watched as you puttered around the kitchen, enamored with the way you seemed completely oblivious to the danger present in your home. You were lucky he was there to protect you; what if Cass hadn’t been a kind person? You would’ve had no idea you were letting a threat into your house, and into your life! Luckily for you, Cass would never harm a hair on your head, let alone let you get hurt.

“Milk okay for the Mac n’ cheese, kiddo?” You asked, not bothering to turn around as you pulled down a box.

He informed you he was vegan.

You took it in stride, pulling out some soy milk. He was almost surprised you would have some, but your clear kindness would never allow you to potentially offend a guest. Damian could feel a bout of cuteness aggression overtaking him, and he clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood under the lip of the counter.

The rest of the night passed without incident, though you seemed particularly interested in Damian’s contributions to the conversation about Austen’s works. He could not help but be satisfied at the impression he had made; it was not his fault the majority of the people you surrounded with could not understand basic literary analysis, after all.

Every week for the next few months, Damian would tag along to book club; he eventually managed to become your favorite conversational partner, though Cain was a close second, as you slowly began to ignore the others in the club. It was better this way, after all; they could not protect you.

However, Damian soon became frustrated by the lack of progress. They were talking to you regularly, yes, but he wanted you safe at home! He could tell the others were building in frustration as well, and yet the consensus remained; they would need to take more time.

So, he approached Todd.

And Todd agreed.

The plan was set.

Damian waited breathlessly in the alley by your workplace. It would be easy, after all, to get you to follow him down into the dark.

The second he saw you, he took a few wide steps back, and began to scream.

“Help!” He shouted, crumpling to the floor. He let his voice take on a tinge of desperation, pitching slightly higher to exaggerate his innocence and hopefully trigger your panic so you would approach without a second thought.

It worked, and your pounding footsteps soon approached.

“Hello?!” You called, frantically dropping to your knees in front of his crumpled form.

“D-Damian?” You cried, searching desperately for the injury.

Behind you, he could see Todd approach, syringe in hand. 

He let out a groan and rolled over, head in your lap. As you ran your hands over his back, looking for something, he surreptitiously grabbed your waist, hoping to prevent you from running, just in case.

Finally, Todd was in range. He stuck the syringe into your neck without a second thought, and you were out like a light.

Damian was just glad your hand had landed in his hair.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 10 | Newborn Miracle

summary: the time has finally come, you and chris are going to become parents. Both of you are filled with joy and nervousness at the same time since this is a big step both of you have to make now and you’re ready more than ever for the adventures that lay ahead of you.

warnings: none, just child birth but besides it’s just chris becoming a proud father

authors note: this idea is so adorable I love the concept of babydad!chris and I need more people to write about it, so this is your sign to go do that rn 🫵 luv yall silk and hope y’all enjoy this one

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

The sun had now began to rise, casting a golden color across the sky as I sat nervously in the passenger seat of Chris’s car, my hand clutching the hospital bag like it was a lifeline. Today was the day we had waited for, the day our lives would change forever. After months of preparing ourselves, endless conversations and debates about baby names and painting the nursery a soft shade of orange we were about to meet our little one. Chris was driving with a focused gaze I hadn’t seen before, his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.

Every so often he would spare glances at me, his blue eyes shining with excitement. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, his voice being a mix of joy and disbelief at whats going to happen today. I turned to him, my heart racing as I speak. “I think so. I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” I replied, feeling butterflies fluttering in my stomach. The thought of actually becoming a parent was almost hard to believe . When we finally arrived at the hospital, the adrenaline kicked in.

We rushed through the automatic doors, our hearts pounding all together. The bright lights and the familiar smell of sanitary welcomed us as we checked in and were hushed towards the maternity section. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation but not just ours but from families around us, each with their own maternity story. After what felt like forever, it was time for me to be called in. Chris held my hand tightly as we walked together into the delivery room. My heart raced as I settled onto the hospital bed and feeling the cool sheets under me.

Nurses huddled around while preparing equipment for the delivery while Chris stood by my side, whispering soft words of motivation. Hours passed with the soft rhythm of contractions guiding us through the whole experience. Chris was never far from me and his presence felt like a warm blanket of comfort. He kept running his hands through my hair, his calming voice reminding me that we were in this together. “You’re doing amazing,” he softly whispered, his faith in me growing by the second. Finally, after what felt like an ongoing battle of will and strength, the moment arrived.

I could feel the overwhelming urge to push, and with each contraction, I used every ounce of strength I had left. In those intense moments, Chris’s eyes became my own. “You’ve got this, ma,” he reassured me, and I leaned into that support. With one final push and an intense surge of energy I didn’t know I had, we heard the most beautiful sound-our baby’s first ever cry. It was like music to our ears.

Suddenly, everything else faded away around us, the pain, the noise, the world outside. In that instant, all that mattered was the life that had just entered into our world. The doctor gently handed our baby to me, and my heart twisted with joy. I looked down and there they were, our little bundle of happiness in soft white blankets. Chris’s breath caught in his throat as he came closer with his eyes wide, filled with emotion all kinds of emotions. ���Can I hold them?” he asked, his voice trembling with excitement. “Of course,” I smiled, shifting so he could take our baby.

Chris cradled our little one against his chest, and I watched as he radiated with pure love. He kissed their tiny forehead, an expression of shock shadowing his face. “You did it. You brought us this miracle,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion coming straight from the heart. Chris looked down at our baby as if they were the most precious treasure in the world. “I want to do skin-to-skin,” he said and I could see the excitement radiating from him. The nurses smiled approvingly and helped him gently remove his shirt, placing our baby against his bare chest.

The warmth of the moment hugged us as Chris’s skin touched our child’s delicate body. He looked at me, letting the little one into his now vulnerable heart. “Can you believe this?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Our little one squirmed, their little hand reaching for where Chris’s heartbeat lies. I could see a connection forming, a bond that would last a lifetime. Tears filled my eyes as I watched the two of the most important people in my life together.

It was a moment of pure beauty, one I will cherish forever. Chris looked at me and grinned, as his face radiated with joy. “We’re parents,” he said, still star struck, “and this is just the beginning.” In that room surrounded by the warmth of new beginnings, we held each other close, both over the moon and overwhelmed by all of it. Our family was here, and we were ready for the wonderful adventure ahead.

@hearts4werka

Guestlist!

| - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[padfootagain]

Love in verses (XXVI)

Chapter 26: ‘Well, how else are you to live except by denial’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! This is one of my favourites, just… some adorable stuff!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4227

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Earl

In Sitka, because they are fond of them, People have named the seals. Every seal is named Earl because they are killed one after another by the orca, the killer whale; seal bodies tossed left and right into the air. “At least he didn’t get Earl,” someone says. And sure enough, after a time, that same friendly, bewhiskered face bobs to the surface. It’s Earl again. Well, how else are you to live except by denial, by some palatable fiction, some little song to sing while the inevitable, the black and white blindsiding fact, comes hurtling toward you out of the deep?

Louis Jenkins

The pain in your abdomen was a sensation you were used to, sadly. You recognized the pattern in the intensity, you knew it perfectly after years of suffering once a month. This month seemed to be particularly nasty though, and there was little doubt on to why. Your stress was so high these days, between your new job, your research, your career, and Frank’s bloody wedding… You were drowning, to be fair. Drowning in an ocean of emotions. You bent in front of your sink, waiting for the wave of pain to fade again, closing tightly your eyes, while the microwave beeped with the heating pad now reaching a burning temperature. You placed it on your stomach, not caring about your skin, only about the pain under it.

Damn… that was a bad month…

You stood straighter again, letting out a long and careful exhale, relaxing once more. Your head was spinning a little, but you didn’t dare to eat too much for now, your nausea was too bad and you didn’t want to end up throwing up. You settled for a bit of rice and an apple for lunch.

You were supposed to see Andrew this afternoon, but there was no way you could plan on fucking up Frank’s appointment at the tailor when it was hard to stand… At least, it was the weekend, you didn’t have to deal with work, and could spend your day being a burrito on your couch while watching TV and eating junk food.

You were supposed to shop for groceries in the morning, but you didn’t have the strength for that either, so you decided that you would get some food delivered for the rest of the weekend and would tackle the issue of not dying of starvation on Monday.

You sat down on your couch, at long last, heaving a sigh of relief. You held the heating pad against your stomach, covered yourself with a blanket and grabbed your phone while you turned on the TV.

You pressed on Andrew’s name on whatsapp while the tu-dum noise of Netflix echoed in your living room.

You heaved a sigh…

… you had forgotten tea… never mind, you were too much in pain and too tired to be bothered making some tea now that you were seated.

Back to your phone, you typed your message quickly.

Hi Andy! Sorry, but I’m not feeling well today, gonna have to cancel for this afternoon. We’ll talk about our plans next week. Hope you have a nice weekend, see you on Monday! Xx

You pressed ‘send’ and started browsing in the list of movies available on your TV screen.

Your phone lit up with Andrew’s name.

Sorry to hear that! Are you alright? Do you want me to drop you something?

You were too tired not to acknowledge the warmth that spread in your chest as you read his text.

Nothing to worry about, don’t worry.

His answer was quick to arrive.

Are you sure? You want me to drive you to a doctor or something?

You chuckled at his obvious worry. He really was too sweet…

No, I’m okay. Period being bitches, that’s all. I can handle it.

He answered with a thumbs up right under your text, right when you found Pride and Prejudice was on Netflix…

Well, it looked like your afternoon was all set.

You cursed under your breath. You didn’t have any snacks. Not even chocolate… and your kitchen was so fucking far… a whole ten steps away…

Damn you and your stupid brain.

You were surprised when you received another text from Andy.

So, what’s planned for today? Did you get your groceries this morning?

You snorted at the mere thought.

Nah. Too much in pain. Too tired to go to the kitchen and make myself tea, so imagine going outside with people?! No, thanks.

I’m gonna spend my afternoon with Mr. Darcy instead.

You waited for his answer, ignoring your TV now.

The Keira Kinghtley movie?

You sent him a thumbs up.

Will you hate me if I admit that I’ve never watched that film?

You almost dropped your phone.

YOU’VE NEVER SEEN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE?!

OH THAT’S IT! DISHONOUR! DISHONOUR ON YOUR WHOLE FAMILY!

He sent a laughing emoji.

You’ve forgotten the dishonour on me and my cow too…

You couldn’t refrain a laugh, even though it hurt your stomach.

You don’t have a cow. But I’ll take it out on Elwood.

You could picture the grin on his face at the joke.

HOW DARE YOU! HE’S SUCH A GOOD BOY!

Elwood, my son, don’t listen to the nasty lady…

You laughed again, but quickly stopped this time, the pain getting too strong.

You didn’t think as you wrote your next text.

You could drop by and watch it with me.

You reread the text and realised your mistake; your eyes grew round. You were in your old pyjamas, you hadn’t showered and had no intention to do so, your hair was a mess, you hadn’t washed your dishes…

You wanted to delete the text, but the blue symbols under it let you know that he had already read it.

Damn it!

I mean… I’m in pain, grumpy and look like trash…

So… maybe not the most pleasant way to spend your afternoon.

Feel free to refuse.

You waited for his answer, watched the dancing dots, until a text was received.

I’d love to, actually.

Besides, I am not five, I know about menstrual cycles, thank you very much…

You bit on your lips as you hesitated.

You’ve never seen me like that.

 A pause. You guessed that he had rephrased his text several times.

Would that make you feel uncomfortable?

You thought about it for a second. Frank didn’t really pay attention to that part of you. It was cliché, but you knew he was making a conscious effort to acknowledge your period and how much of a burden they were to you. You saw it as him making an effort at the time. Now, you were worried Andrew would be the same, with typical disappointing male behaviour…

And yet, you didn’t care. You couldn’t find a way to care. You couldn’t imagine Andrew, out of all people, disappointing you on that. Perhaps it was naïve, you weren’t sure. Your answer was earnest anyway.

No

His answer came in a matter of seconds.

Give me forty minutes to come over then.

You smiled.

An hour then.

You laughed again at his answer.

Gobshite…

You didn’t select the movie for now and merely watched some crappy TV instead, with whatever was on.

You tried not to pay too much thought on how excited you were at the idea of Andy coming soon…

Andrew ended up ringing at your door an hour and fifteen minutes later, proving you right about his time blindness, and the thought made you smile. You had washed your dishes waiting for him, using a fifteen-minutes break from the pain to stretch your legs and attempt to look like a human being. The pain was soon back with full strength though, and you gave up on the idea to change into a proper outfit. You remained in your comfortable pyjamas, tied your hair up to hide the mess it was, and went back to suffering on the couch, the heating pad growing colder and less effective, but you were too tired to get up again.

You groaned as Andrew rang at your door, forcing yourself to stand. You couldn’t hold yourself completely straight, not with the pain in your stomach being now combined with a sharp stinging sensation in your lower back. You opened the door still, and welcomed Andrew with a genuine smile.

He was wearing his hair in a bun today, his glasses perched on his nose, and a warm smile on his lips as his gaze rested upon you. He looked gorgeous in a simple brown jacket, dark jeans and a black turtleneck. You couldn’t refrain the way your heart fluttered at the sight, nor the butterflies that were added to your painful stomach.

“Hey! God, you do look like shite,” he exclaimed, but there was worry in his frown despite the obvious teasing in his voice.

“Thanks for the compliment,” you stuck your tongue out, and he couldn’t refrain a chuckle.

He walked inside, took off his shoes and jacket, and it’s only when he set the bags on the floor to do so that you noticed them.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Groceries.”

You looked up at him with a puzzled look.

“Jeez… if you were busy this afternoon, you should have declined!”

He laughed, and you were more puzzled than ever.

“These are for you,” he clarified, picking up the bags again.

You blinked up at him.

“For… me?”

“Yeah… you said you didn’t get any groceries this morning. Can’t let you starve! Come on, get a move on, these need to go in the fridge.”

You let him pass, followed him in your kitchen. He started to empty the two paper bags on your kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get you much, just enough to last for a couple of days. Pass the weekend. Nothing that needs fancy cooking either, don’t worry. Mostly pasta, rice, and a few vegetables and fruits. I also got some take out for tonight, so you don’t have to bother with cooking today. Chinese, hope you’re in the mood for that. And then, the obvious ice cream, crisps and chocolate combo. Oh, and I bought you this tea! My mom recommended it once for menstrual cramps to one of my cousins, and it’s apparently pretty nice, so… thought you could use that too.”

He looked up at you then, after his little babbling. He frowned at your expression though, and you noticed the shift in his demeanour: the way he shrank, bending over himself instead of standing straight, with his full height. Trying to look smaller than he was, to occupy as little space as possible. He rubbed nervously at his collarbone.

“I… I thought it would make things easier for you. I… I’m sorry if I’m overstepping… if you… sorry. Sorry…”

But he was interrupted by your arms around him; you almost tackled him with the strength, and you heard the loud huff he let out at the impact. It took him a couple of seconds to close his arms around you too, but then it felt like he was unwilling to ever let go.

“Thank you so much,” you mumbled into his chest. “That’s… so fucking sweet, Andy.”

“That’s nothing,” he tried to brush your thankfulness away, but you could hear in his voice that he was smiling again, feel that his body was relaxing once more. “I didn’t mean to overstep… I just… I just thought it would make it easier for you.”

You spotted your favourite chocolate on the table, along with some ice-cream.

“These are my favourite,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to do that…”

“It’s nothing.”

You didn’t say it. You didn’t say that Frank had never done that for you. And Andrew did? When he wasn’t your boyfriend? When he didn’t even have feelings for you?

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, rubbing your back, and the caress was so soothing you were ready to cry. “Painkillers or something? I can go to the pharmacy…”

“I’ve got that covered, don’t worry. Thank you.”

“Right…”

Another cramp came breaking your embrace, you let out a groan as you held your painful stomach. You tried not to think of how your heart stumbled and missed a few beats when Andrew brushed a messy strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You really don’t look well. You should sit down.”

“I need to reheat my heating pad…”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do that, love. Sit down, okay?”

‘Love’… he had called you ‘love’… You wanted to cry…

Why were you so affected by it? It was Andy. It was Andy, not Frank, and you wanted Frank, you wanted Frank, you wanted…

He walked into the living room about 10 minutes later, carrying your heating pad under his arm, ice cream and some chocolate. He had to go back to the kitchen to fetch your two cups of tea.

“Alright… need anything else?”

You shook your head, and he settled on the sofa next to you. Readjusted the blanket so it would cover your feet. You didn’t recognise the flavour of the tea, you reckoned he had made a cup of the one his mother had recommended.

You refused to name the feeling that was spreading across your entire body, the unbearable fondness aimed at Andrew that came with it.

I want Frank, I want Frank, I want Frank…

“Alright, let’s watch Mr. Darcy getting rejected…” he grinned at you, as if he was at his happiest, as if he couldn’t have thought of a better way to spend his afternoon than to watch Pride and Prejudice with you while nursing you back to health because you were on your period…

You scoffed, trying to hide the tears in your eyes by looking for the movie on Netflix again.

“He doesn’t just get rejected. They do get together at the end, you know?”

“Thanks for spoiling it all to me…”

“Wait… you told me you read the book…”

He laughed.

“I did! I was joking, like… It was a joke. I did read it. I simply haven’t watched any adaptation.”

“Wow… Oh… so you haven’t seen the one with Colin Firth either?! The BBC series?”

“Nope…” he answered, popping the ‘p’ before taking a sip of his tea.

Two teabags. As always. The detail made you smile.

“Okay, that is going to be our next activity together.”

He laughed, but didn’t contradict you, on the contrary.

“Well, I guess my next Sunday is all booked…”

“Indeed, it is!” you grinned, but your tone was too soft not to show how emotional the thought of spending another afternoon like this with Andrew made you feel.

He didn’t comment on that, though, and you were grateful for it.

He reached for your coffee table, where he had put the two sets of ice-cream and spoons, and handed you one.

Your heating pad was back on your stomach, warm and effectively soothing your cramps. You seized the opportunity to eat a large spoonful of chocolate ice cream.

You moaned at the taste.

“Andy… this is perfect, I hope you’re aware of how amazing you are.”

He chuckled, but there was something a little sad in his eyes when he looked down at his food, a tinge of melancholy. You didn’t know why.

“Bribing you with chocolate is the way to your heart, then,” he joked, clearly stirring the conversation away from himself, while pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes, starting the film.

You exchanged another smile, while the movie started. You didn’t realise your own movements as you scooted closer to him on the couch, and neither did he notice how he leaned towards you, until your arms were softly touching.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love… I love… I love you…”

You heaved a sigh after whispering the words in sync with Mr. Darcy, clutching at your heart, burying your face further in Andrew’s shoulder.

You weren’t sure when you had ended up in Andrew’s arms, but you were now. He had wrapped an arm around your shoulders at one point, noticing how livid you had become because of the pain, how you had tried to withhold your wince but failed. And it was meant as a temporary anchor, a soothing gesture that should have lasted just a few minutes, until the pain subsided again. But when you relaxed once more, he didn’t pull away, and instead of freeing yourself from his hold, you leaned closer, sank deeper into his embrace. And now, he was resting his long fingers on your waist, while you leaned into his chest.

Which was… better not think about boundaries and friendship and professional behaviour and all those limits you were breaking.

Meanwhile, Andrew was brushing a tear away, but you spotted it before he could pretend it hadn’t happened.

“I know… I know…” you patted his chest, trying not to notice that you were touching his chest. “I cry every time too.”

“For proof,” he chuckled, brushing your tear away with his thumb, making your heart stutter and expand to the point that you wondered how it hadn’t broken any of your ribs yet.

“It’s Jane Austen’s superpower, Andy… we can do nothing against it,” you concluded before nuzzling into his chest again.

“I’ll have to agree,” he nodded.

You noticed how his breathing was a little irregular for a moment, when you shifted to be a little more comfortable in his arms, but he didn’t push you away, didn’t move at all, in fact. Instead, he waited for you to settle again, readjusted the blanket on both of you, and stared at the end of the movie. His cheeks were turning a bright shade of red. You hated the thought that crossed your mind…

There were but a couple of minutes left, it was the end: Mr. Darcy had walked across the moor already, he had declared his love and Elizabeth had accepted his hand in marriage. They were waiting for Elizabeth’s father. You were staring at Andrew, the feeling of your gaze on him made him look down as well, catching your eyes with his. His hazel eyes, they looked so green now, in the rather bright light of the late afternoon, and the tears he had dried just before had enhanced that colour too. Green… like leaves bathed in sunlight during the summer… you loved that shade…

You didn’t even notice when the screen went dark, when the credits started rolling. You were thinking of Andrew, of how sweet he had been all afternoon, of how handsome he looked now, how much turtlenecks suited him, how cute he looked with his glasses…

He blinked a couple of times, as if he were coming back from a reverie, and looked at the TV again. You looked at his profile, found yourself longing to run your fingers through his short beard, noticed the red tainting the brown of his hair.

“Well, that was an amazing film,” he easily admitted, bringing you back to earth.

And indeed, the story was over. Mr. Bennett had accepted their union. Elizabeth would marry Mr. Darcy. All ended well. Black screen and a list of names, printed in white pixels…

You pushed yourself out of Andrew’s arms.

Back to reality now… and in the real world, you wanted Frank. You wanted Frank. You wanted Frank…

You looked away in a hurry, and trembled at the loss of contact, when Andrew finally moved his hand away from your waist.

You kept on talking about the film for a while, but eventually, Andrew checked the time.

“I should get going, let you get something to eat. And I mean… something proper. Not snacks,” he teased, standing up and taking the remnants of your various snacks with him to the kitchen.

And you had to tell yourself that mantra again. Because your heart was aching at the thought of Andrew leaving. Which was ridiculous because you would see him in two days. Which was ridiculous because he was only a friend. A colleague, even. And it was ridiculous because you didn’t want him, you wanted Frank. You loved Frank. You wanted the life you had with him back. You… you wanted Frank. You wanted Frank… You… You wanted…

“Andy?”

He reappeared, coming from the kitchen, and tilted his head a little as a silent invitation for you to speak again.

“Do… do you want to stay for dinner?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, long enough for you to start spiralling and babbling…

“Unless you need to take care of Elwood…”

“No, my parents took him to the seaside today, they’re keeping him for the night. He’s living his best life, trust me. I bet my dad is giving him all the treats he wants.”

“Or like… I mean… you’ve already spent your afternoon with me, even if I’m sick and not the best company today, and… yeah, I totally get it if you don’t want to stay, like… that’s…”

“Y/N.”

“Hmmm?”

“I’d love to stay.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I’m too much to take care of…

You merely shrugged in response, making him chuckle, clearly unaware of your thoughts.

“Well, if you’re not bored of me yet, I’d love to stay for dinner.”

You grinned.

“Grand…” you nodded, and Andrew disappeared in the kitchen again to prepare dinner.

Still, you noticed how he was smiling when he turned around, how he was blushing, too…

You ended up watching tv again after dinner. The pain wasn’t as vivid as it had been during the rest of the day, and so you were more comfortable during that part of the evening. So much so that you started dozing off, as you were watching for the nth time how Luke and Han were trying to save Leia.

You had stumbled upon a rerun of the old Star Wars movies, and settled on the nostalgic feeling of these stories to end the day. Andrew was supposed to go home after the end of the movie, once the Death Star was gone and Leia was placing medals on the heroes’ chest.

Andrew had made you laugh with his best impression of Chewbacca, and you had made him choke on his glass of water with one of your jokes and snarky remarks. It was lovely, but you were so tired you neared exhaustion by now. So, it was quite logical that you started dozing off after a while, losing tracks of the story when Han and Luke were dressed as stormtroopers.

You hadn’t noticed that your head had fallen on Andrew’s shoulder as you were falling asleep. You didn’t notice how he stopped paying attention to the movie when you did. How his heart started pounding at how adorable you looked like this. He waited for a few minutes, to see if you would stir and wake up again, but you didn’t. He stared at you for a moment longer, but you weren’t aware of it. You weren’t aware either of the longing in his gaze, of the smile on his lips as he watched how peaceful you looked in your sleep.

You blinked your eyes open again only when you felt something slipping under your knees and behind your back, felt the warmth upon which your head rested move.

“Andy?” you called in your drowsy state, still unable to understand what was happening, where you were…

“I’m here, love.”

That pet name again… were you dreaming it?

You reached up, held onto a soft fabric, and somehow, despite the fact that you had closed your eyes once more, you knew it was Andrew’s turtleneck.

“You’re falling asleep, you need to go to bed,” he said softly, his voice unbearably low and deep, it made your heart skip a few beats and warmth spread across your entire frame.

And it sounded so reassuring… so safe… He was so reassuring…

You nuzzled into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. His cologne, his softener, him…

“Can I help you reach your bed? Can I do that? Is that okay?” he asked in the same caring voice, and you nodded. But then again, you would have accepted anything, for as long as you could remain in his warmth, as long as his voice came back…

You realised then that he was slipping his arms under you, it took a moment longer for your brain to register he meant to carry you.

“I can walk,” you whispered, opening your eyes again and forcing yourself to look at him.

You were too stunned when he bent down to kiss your hair to argue when he told you there was no need, that he got you, that you could close your eyes again. You obeyed, having no strength left to argue, and you wrapped your arms around his neck when he stood up and lifted you off the couch.

He readjusted your position, and then you were vaguely aware of moving, while he walked through your apartment. You nuzzled closer, your forehead brushing his jaw and your entire body trembled as you felt his beard against your skin.

Too soon, he was gently putting you down on your comfortable mattress, tucking you in, under your warm blanket.

You blinked your eyes open before he could leave, found his hazel eyes looking down at you. He seemed so tall like this, standing above your bed.

“Thank you, Andy. For everything.”

He smiled, gesture gentle and full of fondness.

“Sleep well, Y/N. Goodnight.”

He tucked a strand of your hair away from your face, and the brush of his fingers across your cheek made you close your eyes for good.

Your last thoughts were of him, while you heard him move away from the bed, recognized the creaking of the tiles by the door of your bedroom.

God, you wanted him so much…

[celuere]

normalcy part 2 :]

you got hurt and you tried hiding it from arlecchino. of course it was in vain, since arlecchino will always have ears and eyes hidden in ever corner. she was pissed at how incomptenet her subordinates were in protecting you and disappointed in you for trying to hide it from her.

lyney and the other children were quiet while they watched the nurses tend to your wounds. you were nagged to death on your carelessness on leaving the house without informing anyone. you found it a bit hilarious to be the one nagged and not the one doing the nagging for the first time. you tried offering a gentle smile to the kids who remained by your side to ease their worries.

"kids, it's a small wound. it will heal in a day."

lyney was about to speak up on how you are being too casual about this before the sound of sharp hells walking across tiles sliced through the air. you let out a sigh, preparing yourself to face the wrath of your partner. arlecchino walked in the room and her mood worsened at seeing you bandaged up. the children didn't wait a second longer and left the room as they already interperrted their father's silent order. the nurse still stood by you, a bit shaken up by seeing the knave so up close.

without a word shared, arlecchino sat by a chair next to your bed. she barely glances at the nurse before saying;

"leave, i'll tend to her."

the nurse within a heartbeat hurried away. you gulped under the tension and weight of her stare on you.

"did you really think i wouldn't know?"

you winced at her question, you tried getting up from the bed to face her more directly but arlecchino stopped you, not wanting to reopen any wounds.

"i just didn't want to worry you, dear." you meant it, it's just a small wound. the children and your husband were worrying over a small matter. it will heal within two weeks and would probably leave a bare visible scar.

"you did a great job then."

her harsh words hurt you but you know she means only well. she always frets over your health, her harsh words might seem cold to others but you know her enough to know they come from geninue worry and love.

she let out a sigh as she saw you sulk. she stood up from the chair and sat on the bed, placing her warm hands on your face, she draws imaginary shapes with her thumb on your cheek. you smile at her warm gesture.

she wants to protect that smile from the harsh world. a world that is so vile and disgusting. being able to withness your smile itself proves how unworthy she is of you. so she shall make up for it by being by your side and protecting you from the vile beings.

after all, you are her god. and she is your servant, that will use her tainted hands to protect your clean ones. till the day she departs, she will make sure that your smile, your love, you genyle nature is protected. she swears that unspoken oath to you a million times as she kisses your hands, your lips, your forehead.

you are her salvation and in return, she will sin for you and only you.

"arle, lost in thoughts again?"

"don't change the subject, you will be punished for your idiocy."

"how mean."

Part one here

UHSKSBENWNNRNWNEN YES YES YES YES!!!!

DEVOTED ARLECCHINO. PROTECTIVE ARLECCHINO. HAVE. MY. BABIES. This amazing sob I loved every single word of this ANON PLEASE START PUBLISHING THIS GOOD FUCKING STUFF I AM BEGGING YOU also I’m sorry for late reply I somehow forgot I had requests to answer😞

[lostfracturess]

LAST DECEMBER MORNING — SATORU GOJO

pairing — satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

summary — on a frost-bitten december morning, you watch satoru gojo prepare for his fated battle with sukuna with infuriating calm, like he isn't planning to sacrifice himself for the greater good. you've spent years being his secret, clearing battlefields for him and stealing kisses between missions, but now you're faced with the most brutal truth. that sometimes the cruelest curse isn't the one that kills you — it's loving someone who belongs to the world before they belong to you.

word count — 5.4 k

warnings — heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood and violence, implied death, unhealthy relationship, sad ending

author's note — this has been rotting in my drafts since the final jjk chapter dropped, and i finally dragged it out into the light bc i'm procrastinating uni. fair warning, this is pure angst with zero comfort, just two people breaking each other's hearts because sometimes love isn't enough. anywayys, happy reading <3

masterlist

Winter had never felt so much like an ending.

You watched frost creep across the windows of your shared apartment, each crystalline pattern forming like cracks in glass, spreading slowly but inevitably.

Outside, the world lay hushed under winter's blanket, everything soft and serene. Birds traced lazy patterns against a sky so blue it hurt to look at, and fresh snow made everything clean and new.

It was the kind of morning that belonged in fairy tales, the kind poets write about when they want to capture peace in words. Strange, how you'd never imagined death would choose such a beautiful day.

You watched Satoru move through his routine, each gesture precise and unhurried. White hair caught the pale sunlight as he smoothed it back, his reflection in the mirror handsome as ever before he adjusted his clothes, and put on his blindfold.

You'd watched him prepare for countless missions before, but this felt different. This felt final.

The normality of it all was almost cruel — how he could stand there, getting ready like this was just another day, just another fight. Like the sun wasn't rising on what could be your last morning together.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily forward, each second falling like a stone into still water. Time felt strange, both rushing too fast and moving too slow. You wanted to grab the clock's hands, force them to stop, to give you just a few more moments in this morning that felt like borrowed time.

"You're staring," he said without turning around, a slight smile playing at his lips.

"Can you blame me?" You were curled up in the window seat, tea growing cold in your hands. "It's not every day your— whatever we are goes to fight the King of Curses."

He turned then, and even through the blindfold, you could feel the weight of his gaze. "Whatever we are?" There was amusement in his tone. "After all this time, you still don't know what we are?"

"Well, we're not exactly big on labels," you pointed out, trying to keep your voice light despite the heaviness in your chest. "Secret relationship and all that."

"Ah, but that's what makes it fun, isn't it?" He crossed the room to where you sat, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "The sneaking around, the secret meetings—"

"Satoru." You caught his hand. "How are you so calm about this?"

He tilted his head, considering. "Would you prefer if I was panicking?"

"I'd prefer if you showed any emotion at all about the fact that you're about to fight Sukuna." You stood up, setting your tea aside. "You've been acting like this is just another day, just another fight, but it's not. You know it's not."

"I think I've shown plenty of emotion," he said, pulling you closer with a playful smile. "Just last night, if I recall—"

"Don't." You pressed a hand against his chest, keeping him at arm's length. "Don't deflect. Not today."

The smile faded from his face, replaced by something more serious. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me why you're so calm. I want you to tell me why you're not worried." Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed on. "I want you to tell me why it feels like you're saying goodbye."

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing patterns on your wrist where he still held it. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. "The world needs to move forward. It needs to find someone stronger."

"What are you talking about?" You pulled back slightly. "You're the strongest there is."

"Am I?" His smile was gentle, almost sad. "Or is that just what everyone needs to believe?"

"Satoru—"

"The world has relied on me for too long," he continued. "They've made me their symbol, their savior, their stupid hero. But what happens when I'm gone? Who protects them then?"

"You're not going anywhere," you said. "You're going to win. You always win."

He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "Sometimes winning isn't about surviving. Sometimes it's about making sure what comes after is better than what came before."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm trying to tell you that whatever happens today, the world will keep turning. It will find new leaders, new protectors. Maybe even better ones."

"I don't want new protectors," you whispered. "I want you."

"Ah, but you've always had me," he said softly. "Ever since that first mission together, when you told me my head was too big to fit through doorways. Do you remember?"

You huffed. "You were showing off, making everything more complicated than it needed to be."

"I was trying to impress you."

"You're always trying to impress me."

"But it's working, right?"

You pressed closer to him, breathing in his familiar scent. "You know it is, you idiot."

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. For a moment, you both stood there in silence, listening to each other's heartbeats. The familiar rhythm brought back memories of how this all began, of the first time you'd been close enough to hear his heart race.

For loving Satoru Gojo had always been the most beautiful and dangerous thing in your world.

It started in blood, as most things in your world did. A mission gone wrong, cursed spirits thick in the air, the metallic taste of death sharp on your tongue. You’d seen him fight before—who hadn’t?

But that night was different. That night, you saw him bleed.

A special-grade curse caught you both off guard. One moment, he fought three curses at once like some untouchable god, and the next, he was crashing through three buildings, blood gushing from his mouth.

Something in your chest cracked at the sight — not from the impact of being thrown back yourself, but from seeing him, the strongest sorcerer alive, look so terrifyingly human.

You remembered how his blindfold had been torn, those devastating blue eyes meeting yours across the wreckage. Blood trickled down his chin, his usually perfect hair matted with debris, and yet he smiled. That damn smile that made your heart stutter even as cursed spirits attacked you from all sides.

“Trying to steal my spotlight?” he’d joked, wiping blood from his lips as he stood. “I’m the only one allowed to look cool here.”

You wanted to strangle him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream at him for making jokes when he could have died. You did none of those things. Instead, you cleared the area, giving him the perfect opening he needed to obliterate the special grade.

Later, after the dust had settled and the reports had been filed, he cornered you in the darkened hallway of Jujutsu High.

“You’re angry,” he said, not a question but a statement.

“I’m not angry.” You were furious. “I’m just wondering how someone who’s supposed to be the strongest can be so fucking reckless.”

He stepped closer, backing you against the wall. “Worried about me?”

“You wish.” But your voice shook, betraying you. Because you had been worried. Terrified, actually. The image of him lying in that wreckage, blood staining his white hair red, had burned itself into your mind.

“Liar,” he whispered, and then his lips were on yours.

Everything they said about Satoru Gojo was true — he was overwhelming, all-consuming, impossible to resist. Kissing him felt like being struck by lightning, like being unmade and remade in the space between heartbeats. You broke apart, both breathing hard, and reality came crashing back.

“Fuck,” you summarized eloquently.

He laughed, the sound low and rich. “That could be arranged.”

“Satoru.” You pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you. Because I’m me. Because there are a thousand reasons why this is a terrible idea.”

“I’m only hearing excuses.” He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Not actual reasons.”

And that was how it started — with blood and curses and kisses in dark hallways. With terrible ideas that felt too good to resist.

Keeping it secret was both easier and harder than you expected. Easier because everyone already knew how Satoru was — flirtatious, tactile, always pushing boundaries. No one questioned when he draped himself over your desk during meetings or appeared uninvited in your office and stayed for hours.

Harder because every moment felt like a lie of omission. Harder because you had to watch him walk into danger again and again, had to maintain professional distance when all you wanted was to grab him and never let go.

You stole moments where you could find them. Quick kisses in empty classrooms, heated encounters between missions, quiet nights in your apartment when the world thought he was somewhere else entirely.

It ate at you sometimes. Not because you wanted to announce it to the world, but because each moment felt borrowed, stolen from a future you might never have.

Every time he left for a mission, every time he faced another curse, you wondered if this would be it. If this would be the time your last memory of him would be a secret smile across a meeting room, a cryptic message that no one else understood. But then he’d come back, always with that insufferable smile, usually with some ridiculous story about how amazing he’d been.

He’d find ways to touch you in public that looked casual — a hand at the small of your back during briefings, fingers brushing as he passed you documents, his body angled toward yours in crowded rooms like a sunflower seeking light.

And the worst part? The absolute worst part was how good he was at pretending. How easily he maintained his public persona — the untouchable, unbeatable Satoru Gojo, who flirted with everyone and meant it with no one.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you in meetings with the same expression he gave everyone else, and for a moment, you’d wonder if you’d imagined everything between you.

But then night would fall, and he’d show up at your door with takeout and that soft smile he saved just for you. He’d kiss you like he was trying to apologize for every moment he had to pretend you were nothing special, like he was trying to prove that this, the two of you, was the only real thing in his world.

You never talked about the future. How could you? In your line of work, tomorrow was never guaranteed. Each mission could be your last, each kiss could be your goodbye. The closest you ever came to acknowledging it was in the desperate way he’d hold you after a close call, in the way you’d trace his features in the dark like you were trying to memorize them by touch.

Some nights, when sleep eluded you both, he’d tell you about the weight of being the strongest, about the exhaustion of being everyone’s last hope.

He’d whisper his fears into your skin — not of death or defeat, but of failing those who believed in him. Those were the moments when the great Satoru Gojo disappeared, leaving just Satoru, just a man who carried the world on his shoulders and made it look easy.

You lived for those moments. The quiet ones, the real ones, the ones where he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive but just yours. Just as you were his.

You carved out your own little infinity in the spaces between battles and duties. A secret world where his laugh wasn’t for show, where your touch wasn’t professional, where you could just be the two of you without the weight of expectations and reputations.

But infinity, as it turned out, had limits. Even his.

Looking at him now, preparing to face Sukuna with that same causality he brought to everything, you wondered if this was how your story was always meant to end. If all those stolen moments were just preparing you for this — one last morning, one last smile, one last chance to pretend tomorrow might come.

The world needed someone stronger, he said. But you needed him. And maybe that was the cruelest curse of all — loving someone the world needed more than you did.

"Promise me something," you said then.

"Hmm?"

"Promise me you won't just give up. Promise me you'll fight to come back."

He pulled back slightly, reaching up to remove his blindfold. His striking blue eyes met yours, intense and clear.

"I promise," he said, "that everything I do today will be for a better tomorrow."

"That's not what I asked."

"It's the only promise I can make."

"Stop." Your voice turned sharp, anger finally breaking through. "Stop talking about tomorrow. Stop talking about the future and the next generation and whatever noble sacrifice you think you need to make. I don't care about any of that."

"Don't you?"

"No, I don't." You grabbed his jacket, fingers twisting in the fabric. "I don't care if the world needs someone stronger. I don't care if the next generation needs to step up. I care about you, you impossible man. I want you here, alive, with me. Is that so wrong? Am I not allowed to be selfish when it comes to you?"

"Huh." He caught your hands in his, but didn't pull them away from his jacket. "And here I thought you understood me better than anyone."

"Don't." You tried to pull away, but he held firm. "Don't you dare try to make this about understanding. I understand perfectly. But you're wrong. You don't have to do this."

His smile faltered slightly. "It's not that simple."

"It is that simple!" Your voice cracked. "You're choosing to make it complicated. You're choosing to walk away, to... to what? Make some grand statement about the future? Prove that the world can survive without the great Satoru Gojo?"

"Someone has to."

"But why does it have to be you?" The words burst out of you, raw and desperate. "Why do you have to be the one to show them? Why can't you just fight to win, to live, to come back to—" You cut yourself off, biting back the words that wanted to follow.

"To you?" he finished softly.

"Yes," you said, dropping your forehead against his chest. "To me. Call me selfish, call me short-sighted, I don't care. I want more mornings like this. More everything. More of you, being insufferably calm and making terrible jokes and acting like the world isn't ending when we both know it might be."

He was quiet for a moment, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. When he spoke, his voice was gentler than before.

"I can't promise to come back." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But know this, every moment with you has been worth fighting for. Worth living for."

You pulled back enough to look at him, really look at him. "Then fight for more moments. Fight to make more memories. Fight to come back to me, not for some greater purpose or stupid sacrifice, but because you want to."

"And if I told you that wanting isn't enough?"

"Then I'd call you a liar." Your voice turned cold. "Because you're Satoru fucking Gojo. When has anything ever been impossible for you? When have you ever let anyone tell you what you can't do?"

​​"This is different—"

"How? How is this different? Because it's Sukuna? Because it's the fate of jujutsu society? Or because you've already decided how this story ends?"

His hands tightened on you, and for a moment, just a moment, you saw something flicker behind those blue eyes — doubt, fear, longing, you couldn't tell. But then it was gone, replaced by that same calm certainty that made you want to scream.

"Because I can't protect everyone—can't protect you if I allow myself to believe in a tomorrow," he whispered.

The gentleness in his voice, the soft way he delivered words meant to cut, made you want to tear the world apart. It was so perfectly Satoru — to break your heart like he was doing you a favor, to wound you with a tenderness that felt more cruel than any violence could be.

"I never asked you to protect me," you said finally. "I asked you to stay. There's a difference."

"Is there?" His hand came up to cup your face, shaking ever so slightly, betraying the calm he fought so hard to maintain. "Because every time I look at you, all I can think about is how many people would use you to get to me. How many would hurt you just to prove they could touch something I care about."

"So your solution is to what? Die nobly? Make sure there's nothing left for them to use against you?"

"My solution is to make sure the world doesn't need me anymore." His thumb brushed across your cheek, catching a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. "To make sure you don't need me anymore."

"That's not your choice to make. You don't get to decide what I need. You don't get to martyr yourself for some greater good and pretend it's for my protection."

"Then what would you have me do?" For the first time, there was a hint of frustration in his voice. "Ignore my responsibilities? Pretend I'm not who I am?"

"I would have you fight like you want to come back!" The words ripped from your throat. "Fight like there's someone waiting for you after. Fight like you love me as much as I love you!"

The confession rang out between you, and the moment it left your lips, you realized you'd never said it before. Through all the stolen moments, all the secret touches, all the nights you'd spent memorizing each other's bodies — you'd never actually spoken those words aloud.

You'd both danced around it, implied it in every action, every look, every unfinished sentence, but neither of you had ever dared to make it real with words.

Until now. Until you were angry enough, desperate enough, terrified enough to let it slip from your heart straight past your defenses.

"Love?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Of course I love you, you idiot." Your voice equally quiet. "Why else would I be standing here, begging the strongest sorcerer alive to be selfish just once?”

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, maybe a sob, his fingers tightening on you. "Don't," he whispered, and for the first time that morning, his voice was shaking. "Don't make this harder than it already is. Don't say things that make me want to—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "That make me want impossible things."

"Impossible? Since when does Satoru Gojo believe in impossible?"

"Since I realized loving you means putting you at risk." His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture achingly gentle. "Since I understood that staying alive isn't the same as keeping you safe."

"I hate this." You shook your head. "I hate how calmly you can stand here and talk about sacrifice like it's inevitable. Like there's no other way."

"Would you prefer if I fell apart?" His smile turned sad. "If I raged and cried and promised things I might not be able to keep?"

"Yes," you admitted, your hands coming up to cover his where they still held your face. "Because at least then I'd know you want to stay as much as I want you to."

"Oh, my love." The endearment fell from his lips like a confession. "Wanting to stay has never been the question. The question is whether I can live with myself if I do."

"And what about whether I can live with myself if you don't?" Your voice broke. "What about whether I can forgive myself for not fighting harder to make you stay?"

"This isn't your fight."

"Like hell it isn't." You pulled back. "You think I spent months learning to clear battlefields just so you could take center stage? You think I perfected my technique to complement your infinity because I had nothing better to do?" You dug your nails into your palms, throat tight with fury. "I've been fighting alongside you since before you ever kissed me in that hallway. Before you ever decided I was worth protecting. Don't you dare tell me this isn't my fight when I've spent years making sure you had the space you needed to be great."

He was quiet for a long moment, studying you. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. "And that's exactly why I need to go. The world doesn't need more people making space for me. It needs people who'll fill that space themselves."

You recoiled like he'd slapped you, hurt burning in your chest. "Is that what you think I've been doing? Making myself smaller for you? Made space for you because I was afraid to reach higher?" You stepped closer, deadly calm now. "I made space for you because that's what you do when you love someone."

His lips twitched into a smile. "So you do understand me."

"Don't pretend those are the same thing."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, instead of answering, he pulled you into a kiss that tasted like goodbye. Like all the tomorrows you'd never have, all the moments you'd never share, all the promises neither of you could keep. You kissed him back with everything you had — all your fury and fear and love condensed into this one perfect, terrible moment.

His hands tangled in your hair like he was trying to memorize the feeling, yours gripping his jacket as if you could keep him here through sheer force of will. When you finally broke apart, hearts pounding, foreheads pressed together in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

"I'll hate you," you whispered against his lips. "If you don't come back, I'll hate you for the rest of my life."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and for once, his smile held an edge of something raw, something that looked almost like pain. "No, you won't."

"I will." Your fingers tightened in his jacket. "I'll hate you for making me fall in love with someone who was always planning to leave. I'll hate you for every morning I wake up alone, for every mission briefing where someone else stands in your place, for every year I have to leave flowers on your grave."

"You'll move on. You'll find someone—"

"Fuck you," you cut him off, the words sharp enough to draw blood. "Don't you dare tell me how I'll feel. Don't you dare stand here and plan out my future without you in it."

"I'm just trying to—"

"To what? Prepare me? Make it easier? There's nothing easy about loving you, Satoru Gojo. There never has been. But I chose it anyway. Every day, knowing this moment would come."

"Would you prefer if I said goodbye properly? If I made it messy and painful and real?"

"I'd prefer if you stopped pretending this is just another mission and show me something that tells me this is killing you like it's killing me."

The silence stretched between you like a chasm. For just a moment, beneath his careful composure, you caught a glimpse of the man behind the name — vulnerable, conflicted, maybe even afraid. But he buried it quickly, like he buried everything that might make him waver from his chosen path.

You'd always known this about him, hadn't you? Known it from that first bloody mission, from every fight where he'd put himself between the world and destruction.

Satoru Gojo was a man built for sacrifice, shaped by duty and power into something that could never truly belong to just one person. You'd fallen in love with him anyway, foolishly hoping that maybe love could be enough to make him choose differently.

But watching him now, seeing the gentle finality in every movement, you understood with crushing clarity that this was always how it would end. No amount of pleading or anger or love could change what he'd already decided.

He'd made his choice long before this morning, probably before he'd ever kissed you in that darkened hallway.

"Keep the tea warm for me," he said finally, stepping back. The words were casual, almost playful — exactly the kind of thing he'd say on any other morning. But that's what made it cruel. Even now, he was trying to soften the blow, pretending this was just another goodbye, just another mission.

You didn't say anything as he walked to the door. Didn't wish him luck or tell him to be safe. The time for those platitudes had passed.

Instead, you watched him pause in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame. For a moment, you thought he might turn around, might drop the act and let you see something real. One last true moment before the end.

He didn't fully turn, but his voice carried back to you, soft and achingly sincere. "I love you. More than anything." A pause. "That's why I have to go."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You'd never expected them, had made peace with the silence between heartbeats where those words should have lived.

You'd imagined them differently, in all the quiet moments you'd shared — whispered against your skin in the dark, laughed into your mouth between kisses, murmured sleepily on lazy mornings. Not like this. Never like this.

How cruel, that he would finally say them now, when they felt more like a funeral rite than a confession. A parting gift from a man walking towards his own chosen end, making what should have been beautiful feel like another wound. The words you'd never dared hope for now hurt more than a lifetime of silence ever could.

Your throat burned with all the things you wanted to scream at him — about how love should mean staying, about how he was breaking your heart while trying to save it, about how dare he make those words sound like goodbye when they should have been a beginning.

"I hate you," you whispered.

He made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been something more broken. "No, you don't." The certainty in his voice felt like another wound. "You love me. You said so yourself."

"I'll hate you." Your voice hardened with each word. "I'll hate you so much it'll make you wish you'd stayed."

His hand tightened on the doorframe, knuckles white with tension. For a heartbeat, you thought you'd finally cracked his composure. That he might turn around and choose you over duty, love over destiny.

He didn't.

The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded like an ending.

"But I'll wait for you anyway," you whispered to the empty room, hating yourself for the truth in those words.

The truth was, you'd always known it would end like this, known that loving Satoru Gojo meant loving someone who belonged to the world before he belonged to you.

But you'd been naive enough to hope. Foolish enough to think that maybe, just maybe, love could be enough to make him choose differently. That your selfish desire to keep him alive and whole could outweigh his selfless need to reshape the world.

The morning light cut across the empty room, highlighting the space where he'd stood moments before, and you wondered about the cruelty of it all.

Was it wrong to want to keep him here? To ask the strongest sorcerer alive to choose personal happiness over humanity's future? How many would suffer because you'd asked him to be selfish just this once?

But then again, how many had already been saved by him? How many times had he bled and broken and pieced himself back together for a world that only saw him as a shield, never as a man? Didn't he deserve the chance to live for himself, just once?

If love died today, buried six feet under noble intentions and greater goods, then maybe hate was all you had left. And wasn't there something pure in that? In hating him with the same intensity you'd loved him? In letting that hate fill the spaces he left behind, burning away the softness until all that remained was sharp edges and bitter truths?

The world needed Satoru Gojo the symbol, the untouchable god of jujutsu. But you'd needed Satoru, just Satoru, the man who brought you tea exactly how you liked it and kissed you like you were his everything. The man who was walking away, leaving you with nothing but memories and the taste of hate on your tongue.

Was it selfish to think your love was worth more than the world's need? Was it cruel to measure the weight of one heart against humanity's future?

Love and duty were never meant to be weighed against each other like this, weren't meant to be choices that tore a person in two. And perhaps that was the real tragedy — not that he was walking away, but that you'd let yourself believe he wouldn't.

You'd known how this story would end from that very first kiss. Had tasted it in every goodbye before a mission, felt it every time you waited anxiously for his return, seen it lurking behind every smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Loving Satoru Gojo meant loving someone who was always meant to be sacrificed. You'd just been naive enough to think sacrifice could look different, that it didn't have to end with you here, choking on love turned to ash in your mouth.

Your fingers traced your lips where those three words still lingered like a curse. The tea was getting cold on the windowsill. You should pour it out, make a fresh cup. Should start preparing for a world where Satoru Gojo was just a memory, a legend, a story of sacrifice and strength. Should learn how to breathe around the thorns growing in your chest where love used to live.

Instead, you stayed frozen, caught in the space between what was and what could have been. Because maybe he was wrong. Maybe the world didn't need someone stronger. Maybe it just needed him to come back. You certainly did.

But it was too late for maybes now. He was already gone, walking toward a destiny he'd chosen long before he'd chosen you. And you were left here, caught between hating him for leaving and loving him for exactly who he was — a man who would always choose the greater good, even when it shattered both your hearts.

But perhaps the cruelest irony was that in trying to protect humanity, he'd forgotten he was human too. That in becoming everyone's shield, he'd forgotten shields could break. That hearts could break. That yours was breaking.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, indifferent to your pain, indifferent to the way your world had just walked out the door with a smile and a promise he might not be able to keep.

You'd wait anyway. Even knowing how the story was meant to end, you'd wait. Because that's what love was — not just the beautiful parts, but the ugly parts too. The waiting. The hoping. The hating.

The choosing to love someone even when they choose something else. Even when that love turns to poison in your veins.

Even when they choose the world over you.

The tea had long gone cold when you finally moved, muscles stiff from standing still for so long. You'd sworn you wouldn't watch. Had promised yourself you wouldn't be there to see him die for his greater tomorrow.

But your hands were already reaching for your jacket.

Because that was the thing about loving Satoru Gojo — even when it turned to hate, even when it felt like acid in your throat, you couldn't look away. You'd watch him fight Sukuna. Watch him smile that infuriating smile as he chose the world one last time.

After all, you'd already promised to hate him if he didn't come back.

The least you could do was be there to keep that promise.

author's note — thank you for reading this little piece of heartbreak. i was very unsure if it will ever see the light of day but i finished it now bc i was in the mood for pain. if you enjoyed, i would greatly appreciate a reblog or comment. hope your heart isn't too broken <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @saurondriell @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[ultralightpoe]

Sticky - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Yeah the fandom is EATING with this song and that trailer so I figured I might as well feed into my own obsessions. -Ultralight

Song Inspo - Sticky from Tyler The Creator

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: Fighting, reference to smexy times

Requests: OPEN [working on the first round now]

MAIN MASTER LIST

[Thank you for the gif @unearthlydust ]

Enjoy!

It’s the bitter laugh that no one wants to hear, that’s the moment when the realization begins setting in. The chill down his spine, locking in the fear as the cold sweat begins to form, knuckles tightening around his glass of whiskey. 

The room wasn’t cold, with the fire crackling just a few feet away, so there wasn’t really a reason for him to be shivering. But that cold embrace of fear was wrapping Declan Morarie like a blanket. He was a man coming to the realization he was about to die. 

It was Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, sat at the end of the long table she hadn’t been invited to, in a home she hadn’t been welcome in but still sat in nevertheless. In the beginning of Declans career he always wondered how people remembered her full name, but watching the women now he understood. She was completely untouchable. 

“Oh come on now,” She teases, clapping her hands together in excitement as that same bitter laugh passes her lips. “I’m excited for the show.” 

“You think this is funny?” He bites out.

“Well from my seat I think it’s pretty great. I, however, would never want to be the one getting hunted down by Bucky Barnes and his fucking wife.” She chuckles, pulling a piece of lint off her dress. 

“And how….” He has to take a breath in to compose himself, slamming the glass on the table before him. “How did they get to me?”

“You tortured her for years, your very own project….. Well her and 20 others. Honestly it was only a matter of time before they tracked you down.” She explains, standing up and walking herself to the bartop. 

“And you didn’t happen to put my name in their ear?”

“Barnes will be my problem….. On another day.” She nods, pouring herself a shot and turning to him to cheers before downing it. “But today, he’s yours.” 

She slams the glass down until it splatters across the entire floor, her heels crunching into it as she waltzes to grab her coat. “I do apologize old friend, and I am….. Hopeful? Yes, that seems like a decent word, I’m hopeful you will succeed surviving.”

“I will.” He sneers, but even the words fall flat.

“Oh I’m sure you will.” She laughs, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Though I do hear things get a bit sticky when those two decide they want someone dead.”

- 

“Who would have thought that this… hunting down the bad guys of the world could be soooo… hmmm.” You tilt your chin up in a quiet contemplation as your husband frets over your suit. He busies himself with checking all the safety measures you both had designed for the suits when you decided they would be worn again. 

“Tiring.”

“Cathartic,” You hum back, sliding your hands down to snatch onto his own and bring them up so he can stop fretting. “You’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You are.” You argue, kissing the knuckles of his metal hand before doing the same to his flesh hand. “You didn’t get much sleep and now you’re tired and grumpy. I don’t like when you do this grumpy.”

“No more with the word grumpy. You have overused it.” He huffs, leaning to kiss your forehead. 

“Fine, ill-tempered.”

“Hardly,”

“Testy.” 

“Not even close.”

“Crotchety.”

“Really? We’re going that far?”

“Hmmmm. Waspish. How about that?”

“I….. will allow it if it means we can just get this over with.” He kisses around your face, using his metal hand to tilt your face for easier access while you fight off a smile and push him back. 

“You know what to do.”

“Straight to business then.” And though he turns his back to you he keeps you close while using the tech pad to monitor the halls of the building you both were about to enter. 

“He doubled up on guards. Someone warned him.” He analyzes, shifting a bit to show you the footage. “Valentina.”

“Hmmm.” You choose not to actually respond, allowing your husband to work through his own anger and suspicion while you watch the guards to begin learning the patterns. 

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” You defend, passing the tech back. “But I don’t want you getting ahead of yourself. That is a hunt for another day.” 

“You ready?”

“Of course.” And it’s easy, the way you two fall to the plan so naturally, having worked together for years now. He lets you pass by him, his flesh hand catching a strand of your hair as you strut past, casting him one more glance before disappearing to find your entrance. 

Once you are at your mark you place the comm in, tapping it twice to make sure it works as you begin slicing the door with the silent laser. 

“Placed?” Bucky asks after a moment, meaning he had made it to his own mark. 

“You know it.” You mutter, pushing the door open in the small place you had cut before easily sliding in, your feet near silent on the ground as you watch the hall and begin trekking through. 

Moving like a shadow should never have been this easy, and yet it was, all thanks to the man you were here to kill. 

“будь в безопасности.” He mutters in your ear, his voice a soft caress in the first moment you hear steps approaching. ‘Be Safe’, his favorite thing to say since he knew you didn’t need luck. 

“être en sécurité,” You repeat his saying back to him, this time in french just to bother him since he could never speak it fluently. 

And then you finally meet the person walking closer, but before he can even prepare himself you are already sliding across the floor to kick out his legs before you swipe the overly large gun from his hip and knock him out with it, sliding on your knees to face forward with the stolen gun and raise yourself back to your feet. 

Each movement is a simple glide, one in front of the other as you trace the hall for movement. The plan was simple, meet in the middle and make your way up. You just had to shut down all the exits first. 

You started with the elevators, opening the first and shooting the controls until the light within it flickers and marking it useless and moving to the second one. When the doors slide open a guard moves to rush out, and you use his outstretched arm to heft him over your shoulder until you are throwing him to the floor and twisting until you hear a snap. 

“Sorry.” You whisper, kicking him away as you hear Bucky grunt within the comms as he finds his own issues. You mimic the movements you had used on the other elevator before rushing to the front entrance and using their own night time security gates against them. Locking anyone from leaving and keeping anyone from entering. 

And now that you were finished with that you began you started your way to meet your husband. 

It only took 15 minutes and by the time you do find him he’s leaning on the wall like nothing else mattered, tilting his metal hand under the light above him to admire the etching done for your wedding. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” You murmur, your tone seductive as you lean next to him. “What’s a place like this doing in a guy like you? …….Wait, don’t I have that backward?” 

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m sure we’ll find a lot of things backwards.”

“Oh,” You blink, staring at him. “I honestly can’t tell if that was sexual or a threat.”

“Then why can I practically hear your heart beating through your chest?”

“I never said I wouldn’t like it as either.” You huff, turning on your toes and signaling him to follow you. “You’re very beguiling.”

“Another big word. Should I be worried?”

“You got me the dictionary. Which I was slightly offended by.” You huff, twisting your body up the stairs as you see a figure in the corner of your vision, working with grace to pull him down and over the railing. “Stop flirting with me Barnes.”

“You stop flirting with me, Barnes.” He snaps back, making sure that guard stays down before using his gun and following you as back up. “Almost there.”

“Noted.” You murmur, shooting the tech pad to enter the door from the stairwell. The second the door swings open there are guards swarming you both, but it is lightwork when you both work together. 

The man that went to punch you met Bucky's metal fist before he could even make contact, the knife that almost hits Bucky’s mid section is easily lost the second you kick the wrist holding it. Like a bloody tango, every motion has a repercussion. 

“Любовь [love],” You huff, spinning to take out two men while facing Bucky. He reads your idea the second you make eye contact, allowing you to use his thigh as a stepping stool and throw one leg over his shoulder. 

He shoots the men in front of you both as he makes his way down the hall, you taking out the men coming up to flank you. 

By the time you reach the double doors holding the enemy within,  you swing off his shoulder with ease before an unknown figure rushes you both. 

You are thrown back, back meeting the floor as you slide while Bucky is thrown into the wall. 

“What the…..” He starts. 

“Fuck.” You finish, upon seeing who just hit you both. 

He was tall, with red eyes and a sneer on his face, yet another over drugged super soldier. 

Bucky is the first to regain himself, standing quickly and pushing himself into the soldier to knock the weight off and send him down. Only he pushes back, both men stuck in the hold, so you launch up. 

Your hands hit your husbands shoulders and you vault over him to lock your thighs around the neck of the soldier and twisting your body to send him flying back with you. 

Unlike you, however, he doesn’t manage to catch himself and falls on his back. Bucky is there, foot on his neck as you pull the gun and finish him off before moving to kick in the door and find Declan Morarie.

He doesn’t say anything, merely turning to the door with a bottle in hand as he staggers for balance. 

“Fuck.” 

“Fuck.” Bucky mocks, giving you a look before you both rush at him. 

-

“I think you need to go to bed.” You huff, watching your husband pull out the paperwork the second you both got home, after dropping your duffel bags by the doors. “No work.”

“I need to review her bills, she’s hiding something in plain sight-” His conspiracy theories about Valentina were interrupted by you slipping your shirt off and throwing it at him. 

“A hunt for another day then.” He amends, following you into the bedroom as quickly as he can.

[unicyclehippo]

Bishova: alcohol

just a little shorty im writing instead of sleeping bc i don’t! like! storms! i don’t think I’ve quite got yelena’s vibe but it was fun to write. set in the same stories as the others

//

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:49) jpg. attachment

when her phone buzzed fourteen times in one minute, that was when yelena knew she had made a mistake.

‘kate bishop, you are pushing my patience,’ she said to no one and the empty safe house.

snatching up the phone, she considered crushing it—they could part ways like that, easy, and she would not ever have to think about clint barton or kate bishop again—but it was the only burner phone she had and kate bishop was not the only message she was waiting for. plus, she liked the dog.

the first eight messages were all photos of said dog. it had snowed since they arrived at the barton farm and lucky wore booties on his paws. from the photos of his bizarre walk and tail tucked between his legs, yelena guessed the pizza dog didn’t like them.

the other six messages were not photos and they were not short. yelena groaned at the first wall of text but she had four hours until extraction and nothing else to provide diversion.

‘you are the lucky one, kate bishop,’ yelena told her, which would have sounded menacing if the girl were here but, since she was not, was just kind of sad.

(21:50) hey sorry about sending a dozen photos, i didnt really think about it first because lucky was just so cute but you feel like the kind of person who would get irritated by that sort of thing so i’ll keep it to a totally normal & very chill number of messages from now on! promise!!!! anyway i just wanted to say merry christmas, i don’t know if you celebrate because you said an awful lot about american christmas like it wasn’t super familiar and idk if russian (?) christmas is different but either way, i hope you have a rly nice day

(21:50) this is kate

(21:50) bishop

(21:50) fyi

(21:50) in case you didnt realise or save my number

(21:50) ok im done now i promise good night

yelena had to laugh. she swiped her thumb up the tiny dim screen of the flip phone, pressed it to the many exclamation points.

kate bishop.

what a surprise she had been.

what a surprise she remained.

yelena was not surprised at herself, for being intrigued by the girl. she was not much younger but she was so different and it was the itch, wasn’t it? the need to scratch at the persistent question. what would she have been like if the red room had not been?

yelena did not think she would be much like kate bishop. even as a little girl, she did not talk as much, share as much. kate bishop walked through the world without any shields, all soft eyes and soft skin. it made yelena’s skin crawl to be around it, still not sure the softness would not infect.

and yet. she went back. she had her answer but she went back to her. with alcohol, for the proper drowning of sorrows.

yelena cut her eyes across the horizon. the hills were silver under the moonlight and she would be able to see any vehicles or bodies long before they reached the house. she was sat on the empty table in the centre of the living room; it was the only piece of furniture and from her place she had a sightline out in every direction.

she had not expected such a night they spent drinking together. when the fourth shot hit kate’s system, she was very chatty. yelena learned much that she asked and more that she had not.

kate bishop was hiding something.

she learned that very quickly, and enjoyed trying to pluck it from the girl. to no avail. if she had more time, maybe, but kate did not handle alcohol well.

she would not have handled the red room well.

it hurt to think it, which was foolish. yelena was not there and she would never go back. it was gone, the men who ran it were dead.

it hurt to think it because the red room still sat in her head, still was tangled in everything she was, still soaked her hands, her history, her name. when she walked, she thought of it. when she talked, she thought of it. when she sat beside this girl, listing from griefs weight on her shoulders and drunkenness, yelena thought first that killing her would take no effort at all. kate bishop had a long, pretty neck and she could put a blade, a piece of glass, against her carotid and—red. she had done it before. to girls less soft.

taking her money was easy and more practical.

leaving her number was…not.

and now this.

yelena tapped a button to light up the screen. it did not get good quality photos, this phone, but the pizza dog was funny anyway.

(21:54) i will dispose of this phone tomorrow.

(22:00) yelena! hi! okay?? because i sent too many messages or??

(22:00) you are funny, kate bishop. and you talk so much.

(22:01) i know. sorry

(22:01) i am glad you were never assassin. it would be a shame to kill you. return safely to nyc.

(22:02) thanks. you too

(22:03) or wherever you’re headed

(22:03) which is……..?

yelena huffed a laugh. a brick of a car shouldered over the hillside and rattled down the long long road toward the house. she dropped the burner to the floor and hopped down from the table, crushing it beneath her boot.

[lewkwoodnco]

Okay I’m just so proud of this edit I just havee to talk abt some of the scene choices hehe🙈🙈

Mon, pine - ngl i completely forgot this scene existed until I randomly stumbled upon it while looking for some other screencaps and thank god I did cuz it fits SO WELL??? Lucy’s possessed by Annabel who’s talking abt someone else obviously but just LOOK at Lockwood’s face half of him wants to snap Lucy out of it/make sure she stays safe and the other half is just mesmerised by the sight of her looking at him like that. And the dialogue??? YOU LOVE ME, DONT YOU????? And he so obviously does but can’t say it/ is too scared to and it’s frightening to see lucy like this but he can’t look away he’s drinking in the sight like a man starved 😭 just the juxtaposition of lovkwood’s pining and the cheekily on-the-nose ‘you love me don’t you’ line creates this delicious tension ARGH the writers were sick SICKKK for this

Tue, long - as soon as he first laid eyes on lucy it’s like he can’t help but let his gaze linger over her and even though she’s the candidate being interviewed the way he tries to impress her as he gives her the tour (the basement training area, the ‘high security’ storage room, her room in the attic) it’s like you can tell he’s already desperately hoping that she’ll join as if he’s longing for company like hers

Wed, ache - love is nothing if not pain like other than the obvious physical pain of being in such close proximity to a flare explosion etc bro is HURTING with regret for putting her (and george) in danger just cuz he insisted they take the case and now they’re in so deep and its all his fault but also he just wanted to fix the 62 sheen road fallout keep his agency open (it’s almost like he wants to prove to her that he/lockwood and co. is worth sticking with) but it’s all gone so wrong and he’s just drowningggg in physical and mental anguish only love can hurt/ACHE like this frfr

Thu, sigh - but at the end of the day lockwood is still a 16 ish year old boy who sucks at expressing his innermost feelings and doesn’t know how to deal with jealousy in any way other than being moody about it/suppressing it and this scene is like yea these are kids fighting ghosts night after night but for five minutes they get to be regular angsty teenagers and have the air between them hang heavy with unspoken words and it’s all so dumb and frustrating but also they’re teenagers what ELSE are they going to do HHHHHHH like look at his face!!! bro is befuddled. dumbfounded. bamboozled even. (what do you mean you’re going out with Kipps i thought we’ve been playing house tgt what)

Fri, lament - as funny as this scene is it’s oddly sweet how he’s ranting so openly to Lucy and like the way she tries to reason with him (he probably signed the same NDA we did) and he STILL stomps around throwing a fit aurgghh it’s so adorable just kiss already

Sat, crave - just look at him. bro is down bad for every single part of lucy it’s like he can’t get enough of her, he’s not even hiding it here like look at him watch her like she’s the most precious thing in the world ughhh

Sun, yearn - ooh this scene is like the breaking point of all the accumulated hidden feelings and thoughts between them and he’s messed up so badly atp even lucy is properly pissed (where’s that incorrect quote - my girl is mad at me I am going to KILL myself) but he’s just too paralysed by 16-year-old-boy syndrome to respond to her (tho he finally gets his head on somewhat right in the next scene) so he just stares at her and takes the scolding wondering how things got this bad when all he had done was care and love and yearn for Lucy (can’t you see his heart clawing out of his chest to get to her)

Also I think it’s so hilarious that in the scene in the top gif he’s talking to lucy aka the very person that has him BOOKED AND BUSY with longing 😭😭

a week in the life of London's youngest agency head (insp.)

[dira333]

Old Man and the Sea - Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Best Friend's Brother and confession - for @fuzztacular - for the Milestone Event Week 1 - Words: 4,4k

- Age 4 -

You meet Akiteru first, of course. 

He’s tall for his age, towering over the other kids even at four years old.

“You can play with me,” he declares with a smile when he notices your excellent aim and non existent fear of getting dirty.

“Do you wanna walk home with me?” He asks that first fateful day at kindergarten, your mothers chatting at the gate.

“Sure,” you say and clutch your bag a little tighter, excited to have found a friend on your very first day too.

“Do you have a pet?” Akiteru asks as you walk.

“Yes. We have a turtle. His name is Old Man.”

“That’s so cool!” He grins wide, astonished. “I wish we could have a pet. Or if I could have a sibling. Do you have a sibling?”

“Yes,” you nod. “My sister is older.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Is she nice?”

You think of her, towering above you. How she always does her homework when you want to play, how she doesn’t like when Old Man tries walking into her room.

“Sometimes,” you offer, because last week she helped you bake a cake for Mom and Dad, didn’t snap once even when you accidentally added too much flour.

“If I was a big brother,” Akiteru declares with gusto, “I’d be the best big brother in the world.”

-

“I have to tell you something!” Akiteru declares just a few months later during break time, pulling you with him toward the swings where there’s enough privacy to share secrets. “I’m getting a sibling.”

“Really?” Your heart beats hard in your chest and you smile. It’s hard not to, when Akiteru smiles so brightly himself.

“Really. Oh, I hope it’s a brother. I wanna teach him all my favorite games.”

“You could teach those to a sister too.”

“Sure,” he hesitates for a second. “If it’s a little sister, you need to teach her.”

“What?”

“Like how you do your hair so nice.”

You touch your braid, hesitating. “But my mother did it.”

“Well, you can teach my little sister then.”

And you think, surely you’ll be able to teach her. Surely it won’t be that hard.

-

- Age 5 -

Kei is born at the end of September. You remember it well, because the day had been unexpectedly rainy, drenching you on the way home where your mother sat, phone in her hand.

“Do you need me to get Akiteru? No, no, bring him over. I’m sure they’ll be happy to have each other until everything is done.”

“Akiteru is coming over?” You ask, dripping all over the floor.

“Yes, in a minute. His brother is coming.”

“Where?”

“Here, silly.” Your mother smiles. “He’s about to be born.”

And you wonder what that means all while feeding Old Man with Akiteru, while eating Ramen and watching TV, the rain hammering against the windows as if it’s just as eager as the grown-ups to meet the newest Tsukishima.

You, well… you’re a little more hesitant than eager.

Kei’s red faced and small, his skin wrinkly and weirdly fuzzy.

“He’s ugly,” you point out with surprise, flinching at your mothers disapproving glare.

“He’s just squished,” Akiteru defends his little brother. “I’m sure you looked ugly on your first day too.”

You consider that for a second. You don’t remember what you looked like that day.

Kei raises his voice in the silence, loud and determined and you think that at least he’s got something to say if he’s not good-looking before you’re being ushered out again.

-

To your surprise Akiteru is right.

Kei’s wrinkly skin smoothes out, the red turning into a soft, pale shade. His eyes are a warm brown and he likes to squeeze your pointer finger as if he’s shaking your hand. He grows quickly too, both in seize and weight, turning heavy in your arms whenever Akiteru allows you to carry him.

Kei likes Old Man and the space underneath your bed, crawling in there when you’re all playing in your room. 

He likes your dinosaur plushy and strawberries and sometimes, when everything is quiet and calm and Akiteru and you lay down next to him on his blanket, you wonder if your sister ever looked at you the way Akiteru looks at him or felt the way you do.

That quiet sense of wonder, that prickly feeling of astonishment, that warm love you can’t seem to stop.

-

Akiteru likes Volleyball. You don’t mind it. 

Ever since Dad got you your first Science kit you’ve grown obsessed with digging up rocks and examining the minerals, or picking bugs from trees to identify them under your little microscope. 

Little Kei has no choice but to share those interests.

Even at three years old he does his best to receive his brother’s spikes, not once crying when it hits him in the face.

“Look what I found,” he tells you on the daily, delivering a shiny beetle to your waiting hands or putting away the rocks you find in the park when your mothers eyes are averted, knowing she’ll never check his bags as thoroughly as she checks yours.

When you have to do a report on your best friend in school you hesitate for a moment. Is it Akiteru or is it Kei? 

-

- Age 10 -

You’re ten years old when your parents separate and although you don’t understand the full extent of it, you know you’ll always prefer your father over your mother. 

So when they ask you who you want to live with, it’s not a hard choice. 

It should have been, though, because no one told you your father was going to move you, away from Miyagi with it’s wide, open landscape and away from Akiteru and Kei.

“You’re going to visit, right?” Akiteru asks, so much taller than you already, both arms on your shoulders as he tries to instill something inside of you, maybe a sense of peace or belonging or something else.

Kei’s tall for his age and you often forget how young he still is, looking eight at barely five years old.

But he acts his age now, snotty nosed and crying, dirty hands curled around yours.

You’re dear to him like he’s dear to you, you know, and you don’t want to miss him growing even taller.

“You can keep my dino plush,” you promise him. “So you don’t miss me while I’m away.”

“What about Old Man?” He asks. “Are you going to feed him without me?”

“I’ll have to,” you admit glumly. “But I’ll take pictures whenever I can. He’ll not forget you, I’m sure.”

-

It’s hard, seeing them only once a month when you’re with your mom, even more so when she tries very hard to capitalize the little time you have in Miyagi.

“I’m trying to build a family here,” she tells you more than once when you’re on your way out and over to the Tsukishima’s. “You can’t just leave for the neighbours every time you’re here.”

But Kei grows so fast you feel like you’re missing everything and Akiteru’s got a new best friend at school you don’t know and can’t she understand that’s more important right now?

- - -

- Age 15 -

Something has changed this year. 

The House of the Tsukishima’s is quiet as you turn up, no Kei running down the stairs to greet you, no Akiteru training in the garden out front.

“Hello?” You yell into the quiet. “Anyone home?”

“Oh, sweetpea.” Their mother steps out from the kitchen. She looks older, much older than you remember. Has it really been just a month that you haven’t seen her?

“You’re growing so much,” she points out as if it means anything in comparison to her sons. “How’s school?”

“Good. Where are Akiteru and Kei?”

“Oh,” her brows furrow. “Probably in their rooms.”

“But it’s so nice out.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I know.”

You trample up the stairs with impatient steps, knock on Kei’s door first because it’s closer to the stairs. 

“What?!”

“It’s me,” you tell him, supply your name after an alarmingly long pause. “Can I come in?”

“Fine.”

You swing the door open to find him on his bed, reading. He’s grown yet again and the thick-rimmed glasses make his eyes look big, their brown still warm and reassuring even though all of him is cold and angry.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“What about?”

“Stuff.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he huffs before hesitating. “Maybe. Did you know Akiteru-” He hesitates again. “Did you know Akiteru stopped playing Volleyball?”

“What?!”

“Yes,” he seems braver now in the face of your surprise. “He kept telling us he’s the ace at his Volleyball Club but he’s not even a starting player.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yes,” Kei’s voice is wet now. “It’s so lame.”

You sit with him for a while, pretending not to notice the tears rolling down his cheeks as you try to understand the world. Akiteru, lying? That’s unheard of. 

-

“Whatever!” Akiteru snaps when you ask him about it. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes it is,” you insist. “That’s a lie! You never lie!”

“I had to,” he bites back. “Like anyone would have still liked me if they knew I wasn’t even good enough to play!”

“I would have liked you.”

“Sure,” he scoffs. “But you’re never here anyway.”

“That’s not my fault.”

He falters at that, softens around the edges to the point he just drops where he’s standing, just a heavy weight on his bedroom floor.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got science. I only had Volleyball. Turns out I’m not even good at it.”

“Just because someone’s better doesn’t mean you’re no longer good.”

Akiteru scoffs again. “It’s not the same. You’re not the same.”

And maybe he’s right. 

You’ve finally found friends in your new hometown, some girls from your english class that like to dress up with you and go shopping and there’s the Science Club that you attend that has a lot of funny guys in it that invite you to Game Nights. 

You feel like you’ve finally found a foundation to build onto only to find your old friendships crumbling.

“I’m sorry.”

Akiteru looks conflicted. “You don’t have to be sorry about that. It’s okay… I think.”

- - -

- Age 20 -

“Hey, I’m driving back to Miyagi this weekend,” Akiteru declares as he picks you up from Lab. “Do you wanna come?”

“Uh,” you check your calendar. “Sure, why not. Anything new?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, wide and excited. “Kei’s playing Volleyball for real now.”

You snort. “He’s been playing for a while now, what’s the difference?”

“You don’t get the difference, because you never took it serious. But I can tell it means something to him. He’s started caring again.”

“Oh,” you think of Kei, the one you knew as a little boy and the cold, difficult preteen he turned into five years ago. “I’m curious.”

-

You can see it too, now. It’s in the way he holds himself up, shoulders wide and proud. It’s in the way he talks to his mother, his best friend - adorable Yamaguchi who always blushes like crazy in your vicinity - and his brother. It’s in the way he talks to you. Like he means what he’s saying. Like he almost dares to be vulnerable again.

“How’s Old Man?” He sidles up to you after Dinner, Yamaguchi already on his way back home. Your Futon waits to be unfolded but you’re not that tired yet and he doesn’t seem to be either.

“Good.” His shoulder presses into yours, warm and steady, like a promise.

It’s still there, that feeling you first felt when sleeping next to him as a child, that quiet sense of wonder, that prickly feeling of astonishment, that warm love you can’t seem to stop. Friends, you remind yourself. You’re friends. More like siblings, really.

“How’s school?”

Kei tells you all about it. How annoying Hinata and Kageyama are, too loud and too talented and too dumb at the same time. How their managers are so vastly different in their characters and yet both so trustworthy at the same time. And although he does not say it out loud, you can read the worry between his sentences. What will happen once the Third Years Graduate? 

“You’re doing amazing,” you smile and he reciprocates, a tiny, quiet, warm moment just for the two of you.

-

And Kei is just a friend, you keep reminding yourself.

When you go watch his Matches with Akiteru, laugh when Saeko Tanaka not so subtly asks if you’re interested in Akiteru before she advances on him herself. 

When you watch him grow even taller, prouder, more sure of himself.

When you attend his graduation and wonder just how it could happen, how tiny, ugly Kei could turn into this.

-

- Age 25 -

You’re dating a coworker by the time Kei starts College. 

Masayuki is not the most romantic, but neither are you. He plays volleyball after work so he and Akiteru are well acquainted, though not as close friends as you’d like them to be.

Old Man lives with you now, just the quiet companion you need for your after work studies, for lounging on the floor with a good book, or wondering about how the world works at the quiet hours of the night.

It’s a quiet life, filled with too much work for too little pay, but you get payed to look at rocks for a living, so you don’t want to complain too much.

-

“I’m leaving in half an hour,” you tell Masayuki over the phone as you’re getting ready. “Do you want to come?”

“To what?”

“Kei has a game,” you pull a sweater over your head and decide against it immediately. That color really washes you out.

“Okay.”

“Okay you’re coming or okay you have other plans?”

Silence.

“Masayuki?”

“I’m just wondering why you attend all his games.”

“Well it’s Kei.”

“Sure,” he doesn’t sound sure. “But-”

“What?” You stand there, topless, staring at the bright display of your phone, the background not one of the few pictures you have with Masayuki but one taken after a big win, Kei’s arms slung around you and Akiteru, face pressed together. 

Something drops low in your stomach and you know, even before he speaks up again, that something just changed.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Weird?” You repeat, your voice empty.

“Yeah, how you… how much you care about Kei. I thought maybe it’s because he’s a Division 2 player and I get that, our games are not as big or flashy or important, but it’s in other things too.”

“Other things,” you echo and he talks on, seemingly encouraged by your answers.

“Yeah, like… you’re not one to go out much and I get that, I’m the same, but when Kei calls you’re always up to go to whatever College Party he’s inviting you. Remember how you had that trip with your mother that you wouldn’t cancel for me?”

You remember it well. You cancelled your family trip because Kei had tickets for the Jurassic World Premiere. In your defense, Jurassic World Premiere’s only happen once, your mother will keep bugging you forever.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” His Question seems to grow in the Silence, multiply into a hundred voices all screaming at you. Is it? Is it? Is it?

“If it would be Akiteru, I could understand, you know? You grew up together, you’re the same age, I’d think you’re into him.”

He doesn’t add any more words, doesn’t have to.

You’re five years older than Kei.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Masayuki asks now and your stomach clenches so violently you fear throwing up.

“I’ve never thought about it,” you tell him. It’s not a complete lie but not the whole truth either.

“Well, you should. And I- maybe we should take a break… while you figure it out.”

His voice is too casual. He’s thought about this in great detail, it seems.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You can hear him sigh. “Take care, okay?”

“You too.”

The connection ends with a click and it’s ironic, it really is, that that’s all that’s left of your almost one year relationship. Just the Silence after, and the stale test of old secrets.

You: Hey, I’m afraid I can’t come to your game tonight. Period came early and it’s wreaking havoc on me. So sorry! But you’ll rock it without me, I’m sure!

Kei: What a shame. Shark week truly has the worst timing. Take care, okay? I’ll check in on you later. Koganegawa says Hi.

You stare at his message for far too long, curl up under your blanket and watch Old Man walk tireless circles around your bedroom.

Masayuki’s words dance like demons through your brain until you fall asleep.

You wake in the middle of the night to soft knocking on your door and a familiar voice.

“It’s me, Kei. Are you up?”

You don’t dare move, don’t dare to come face to face with him so soon. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” His question is heavy on your heart. Does Kei think that too? Maybe you are. Maybe you’ve been his weird big sister for a while, sitting too close at family gatherings, always there at every game because you can’t seem to stay away.

Maybe he’s never had the courage to tell you to take a step back.

Maybe, and that hurts the most, you’re the reason he still doesn’t have a girlfriend yet. Because you’re holding on to tight. Because you’re acting weird about it. Because-

“I’ll check on you in the morning, okay?” Kei’s voice cuts through the turmoil in your head like a hot knife through butter. “Sleep tight. Take care of her, Old Man, okay?”

In the morning you’ll find chocolate and painkillers in a bag tied to your doorhandle and a good morning text on your phone. 

You do your best ignoring both.

-

“What’s up with you?”

You turn, surprised to find Akiteru at your desk.

“Hi to you too. Do you need a report on any minerals?”

“No, I’m here to check if you’ve turned into a fossil yourself.”

“Geology,” you point at yourself. “You need to ask Kei about Fossils.”

Akiteru rolls his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“No.”

He snorts. “You’re ghosting us. Me and Kei and probably your other friends too, but I don’t have their numbers to check.”

“I’m not doing anything like that.”

“Please,” he scoffs now. “You’ve missed two of Kei’s games. That’s unheard of. If Masayuki said anything-”

“Can we just not talk about it?” You interrupt him, grabbing your bag and ushering him out. You don’t really want to be the lab gossip for the next month.

“I think we should.”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, pushing him along. “I was the middle man of your stupid fight for years, you owe me.”

Akiteru’s face falls. “Damn, it’s serious if you pull that card. Really, what did he say?”

“What makes you think he said something?”

“He mentioned something at training. He let me know that you’re no longer together, but that it was a mutual decision and that the reason should stay private for your sake.”

You huff out an unamused laugh. “That Shithead.”

“So?” Akiteru’s eyes are warm and honest, but you swallow the need to tell him.

“You’re biased, I can’t tell you.”

“Please, when have you ever not told me something? I know everything about you.”

“Ah,” you turn your face away. “Sure.”

“Well, if you don’t want to tell me, can you at least call Kei? He’s been in a mood all week. He deserves to know you’re not mad at him.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Oh,” Akiteru whistles a tune. “That’s new. You’ve never been mad at him once.”

You falter. “Surely that’s wrong.”

“Nope. Can’t remember a single time.”

“Well,” your stomach churns as you speak, as you try to make your lie sound more believable. “That’s how it is with little siblings, right? They can never do anything wrong.”

And you wish you didn’t look Akiteru in the face as you said it, because you can see it so clearly in his eyes. He knows you’re lying. 

So you turn on your heel and walk back inside, relieved and disappointed at the same time that he’s not following you.

Kei: I’ve bought too much Lettuce, I’m bringing some over after training.

Kei: Left the Lettuce outside. Did you remove your spare key from under the rug?

-

Kei: Hey, didn’t see you at the Match tonight, are you still not feeling well?

-

One missed call from: Kei

-

Kei: You’re really starting to worry me, what’s going on?

-

Kei: I’m giving you one last chance to call me back.

-

The sound of a key turning has you look up from your book, frozen in your spot on your bed. Old Man’s munching on his lettuce, too focused to care.

“Hello?” You ask into the quiet of your apartment, heart hammering against your ribcage. 

The door opens soundlessly. Kei’s head almost knocks against the top of the doorframe as he steps through, hair disheveled, glasses speckled with raindrops. He stops in his tracks when he sees you and you wish he wouldn’t, wish he’d give you a moment to regain your composure, rain in your heart that tries to crash out of your chest at the sight of him.

He’s too tall and too broad, his hair too pale-golden like the moonlight and the worry in his eyes too thick to swallow.

“What’s going on?” Kei asks, breaking the spell. You shift your gaze to the page in front of you, unseeing. Can he read your eyes as well as you think you can read his.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” 

He sighs, clearly exhausted. At this time, he must have come here right after training, maybe even skipped the shower.

“Look if Akiteru said something-”

Your head lifts, surprise gurgling through your veins.

Kei’s wringing his hands now, a nervous gesture you’ve never seen on him before. He’s looking at Old Man instead of you, lips moving without making a sound.

“Just because Masayuki broke up with you doesn’t mean he has to rush things, I mean-” He hesitates and your confusion grows.

“I’m not following you, I-”

He gestures for you to stop, pulls a chair out from your kitchen table and sits down across from you, shoulders hunched under an invisible weight, cheeks burning red.

“I’m going to make this quick, okay, because I’d rather not make myself suffer anymore than necessary but- I like you. I’ve liked you since I knew what that meant. And I know I’m much younger, but I’m not a child and I’m mature for my age and if you’d give me a chance I’d make sure you’d never regret it-”

“What?”

Kei takes your hand and you can feel the tremor going through his limbs as he does.

He licks his lips.

“Would you date me? Yes or no. You can say no, I’ll get over it, I promise.”

“Y-yes, I mean wait, what?”

Kei’s eyes are open and vulnerable. You’re reminded of that one night five years ago, when he started caring again, when he sidled up to you after dinner, one shoulder pressed into yours. Your fingers twitch and curl around his as if they already know what your brain hasn’t processed yet.

“You like me?” You turn your eyes to the floor, too overwhelmed with the truth swimming in his. “You like me? It’s not weird?”

You can feel him shrug but his hand doesn’t let go.

“I mean, maybe it’s weird, but who cares? I’m pretty sure Akiteru is dating Saeko and that’s weird too.”

You laugh, the sound breaking free from you.

“You like me,” you repeat, reaching out with your other hand to find his already moving toward you. “You like me.”

“Should I repeat it too or is it enough if you do it for me?” Kei’s sarcasm is softer now, just a little teasing. You smile and he smiles back and you can’t help yourself, have to lean in and touch the red blooming on his cheeks.

“You like me,” you confirm once more, for good measures. “For real.”

Kei snorts. “You sound like a teen.”

“Shush. Did no one teach you how to respect your elders?”

- - -

- Age 26 -

Kei snores. It’s such a tiny tiny detail in the sea of things to know about him, yet you’re so unreasonably fond of it.

He’s doing it right now, one head on your shoulder, his glasses folded in your lap.

“Can you shut sleeping beauty up?” Akiteru asks from the front, clearly annoyed.

“I could, but I don’t want to,” you reply.

Kei’s nose curls as if he’s heard that but he lets out a sigh right after, exhaling softly as he sinks further into you.

“Such a sap,” Akiteru teases you once more and you let it happen.

It’s true after all.

-

“Oh, you’ve grown again,” Tsukishima-san calls out with exasperation at the sight of Kei, pinching his cheeks. “Are you eating enough?”

“Mom!” He cries out, embarrassed. 

“Help me!” He asks you. You just laugh.

“I put your Futon into Kei’s room,” she tells you as the boy carry up the luggage. “I know how he is. He’d just climb through your window if I didn’t and I know your mother. She’d throw a fit.”

“How is she anyway?” You ask. “Did she say anything, about… you know what?”

“Ah,” Tsukishima-san weighs her head left to right. “She was surprised, for sure. I think she always had her mind set on Akiteru. Got me a pretty Yen, you know.”

You gape at her as she snickers, proud of herself. “Oh yes, I knew it right away. That bet’s been going on for almost as long as Kei’s been around.”

“You’re a trickster,” you tell her, not quite sure what you’re supposed to think about it.

“Where do you think Kei gets it from?”

“Gets what from who?” Kei asks, stepping into the kitchen. He’s never far away for long, always eager to close that space again. His hand slides into the back pocket of your jeans now, squeezing your butt. 

You throw him a pointed glare and he grins, the picture of innocence when he’s anything but.

“I can’t tell you without insulting at least one of you,” you huff and he preens while his Mom snickers.

It’s weird, you can’t help but think as they chat, how this house, this family, already feels like home.

Maybe because it always has been. You’d just been a little too shy to grasp it fully.

[daniiiboo]

love story- jh86

summery- love story by taylor swift, jack hughes version

dani's thoughts - yay another fic out!!!

warnings- nothing just pure fluff

We were both young when I first saw you

It was the first day of high school and Jack Hughes couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. You had a dazzling smile that could light up the entire room. Jack felt his heart skip a beat as he watched you from across the hallway. As he walked past you, your guy's eyes met for a brief moment and Jack felt a strange connection to you.  

After that, Jack found himself making excuses to walk past your locker in hopes of catching another glimpse of you. Eventually, fate stepped in and you and Jack were paired up for a group project in English class. As the two of you worked on the project together, Jack found himself growing closer to you. 

“Maybe we can do this instead?” You asked Jack, wondering how to fix the mistake the two of you made. Instead of being worried about the project, Jack was too busy looking at you, the way your hair frames your face, how your face lightly scrunched up as you thought. “Jack?” you questioned, waving your hand in front of his face.

“Oh- urhm, yeah that's good!” Jack stuttered out, his face turning a beautiful shade of red.

“Ohh kay” you responded, going back to writing.

You were Romeo, you were throwin’ pebbles and my daddy said “Stay away from Juliet”

The sound of a hockey puck hitting the boards echoed through the empty rink as you watched from the bleachers. It was a late practice, and most of the team had already left. But your boyfriend, Jack wasn’t quite done yet. He was the last to skate, always pushing himself a little longer than the rest, always a bit more determined to be the best.

You sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, though your eyes kept flicking up to watch Jack. The way he moved on the ice, the confidence in every stride, every shot. 

“Stay away from him, (Y/N). He’s trouble.”

You’d heard those words so many times that they had started to feel like a broken record in your head. But despite your father’s warnings, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced whenever you saw Jack, or how he made you feel when he smiled at you.  Finally, as he finished up his last lap around the rink, he skated over to the bench where you were sitting. He pulled off his helmet, his damp hair sticking to his forehead, and threw a towel over his shoulder.

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?” he asked, his voice warm, though there was an edge to it.

You shrugged, trying to act casual.

 “Just needed some air. You know, thinking about… stuff.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He leaned against the bench, crossing his arms, looking at you with that trademark smirk of his. 

“Stuff, huh? You’re not gonna tell me what kind of ‘stuff’ you’re thinking about?”

You bit your lip. You knew he was trying to get a rise out of you. Jack had a way of doing that—making you feel like you were the only one in the room, even if there were a hundred people around.

You hesitated. 

“I was thinking about… us.”

He stopped mid-smirk, his gaze softening. 

“Us?”

You nodded, your heart thudding in your chest. 

“Yeah. My dad. He doesn’t want me to be around you. He thinks you're bad news.”

“I mean I’m not a saint” Jack let out a laugh, but there was no humor to it.

“I just want you to know, even if my dad doesn’t like you, I do, and thats what matters. My dad doesn’t see you when you get me flowers, or when you do little things for me. He only sees how you act on the ice as how you act in public. I see every part of you, and I love you.” you explain, looking up at him, both of you having tears in your eyes. 

“Cmon lets get out of here before I cry on the ice” Jack said softly

Later, as you and Jack wandered through the streets under the cover of darkness, the world felt like it belonged to just the two of you. You forgot about everything else,about your dad’s warnings. All that mattered was the feeling of Jack’s hand in yours, the sound of his laughter in the air, and the way he made you feel like nothing could go wrong.

So close your eyes Escape this town for a little while, oh oh

The evening air was warm but fading, the last remnants of daylight slipping away like the final notes of a song you didn’t want to end. You leaned against the hood of your car, watching the orange glow of the setting sun bleed into the horizon. It had been a long day. A long month, really. The constant pressure, the expectations, the routine—it all felt so heavy sometimes. You needed a break, needed to get away, even if it was just for a little while.

That’s when you saw the headlights coming down the road.

You smiled to yourself. Of course, it was Jack. He always knew when you needed a little escape.

The engine of his truck rumbled softly as he pulled up beside you. The moment the car stopped, he was already getting out, his familiar grin lighting up his face. You couldn't help but smile back, even though the weight of everything still tugged at you.

"Hey," he said, walking over to you with that relaxed, confident stride. "You ready to go?"

"Go?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Go where?"

Jack's grin only widened. 

"I don’t know. Somewhere better than here. Somewhere we can just... forget about everything. You in?"

You hesitated for only a moment. You knew what he was asking. You could already feel the excitement buzzing beneath your skin. Jack had this way of making things seem like they were going to be exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t know what you needed yourself.

"Yeah," you said, pushing yourself off the hood of the car. "Let’s go."

The two of you didn’t have a set destination. You never really did when it came to Jack. He wasn’t about planning, and somehow, that made everything feel a little more thrilling. He pulled out of your quiet suburban neighborhood, the low hum of the tires on the road accompanying the soft music playing from the radio.

"Think we’ll be back by sunrise?" you asked, your voice light with amusement, but also that quiet, giddy thrill that came with running away from everything.

Jack shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief. 

"Who says we have to go back at all?"

You laughed softly, but the idea lingered in the back of your mind. Maybe Jack didn’t feel the pressure the way you did. Maybe he didn’t have the same worries about responsibilities and future decisions hanging over his head. You envied that about him sometimes. But there was also something freeing about being with him, about leaving it all behind, even if just for a few hours.

The town faded away, the bright lights replaced by the soft glow of moonlight as you drove down empty back roads, the windows rolled down, the air cooling your skin.

"So, what’s the plan?" you asked, turning your head toward him as he navigated the winding road. "What are we running away from this time?"

Jack gave you a sideways glance, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. "Not running away," he said softly. "Just... escaping. For a little while."

You were quiet for a moment, letting his words settle in. There was something about the way he said it—so simply, so effortlessly—that made everything feel like it would be okay. Like the world outside this little bubble of time you were creating didn’t matter.

"So close your eyes," Jack added, almost like he was reading your mind. "We’ll escape this town for a little while. No one can stop us."

You didn’t hesitate. You closed your eyes, just for a second, and let the rhythm of the truck’s engine, the cool breeze, and Jack’s presence wash over you. It wasn’t about where you were going—it was about being with him, leaving the small things behind, even if just for the moment.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

The night was still young, but it was already the kind of evening where the world seemed to quiet down. The sound of cicadas hummed lazily in the background, and the cool, crisp air of late summer hung around like a promise of change. You were sitting on the porch of your apartment, your feet tucked up underneath you as you leaned against the railing, watching the stars blink lazily in the dark sky above.

It had been one of those week, busy, hectic, filled with things that you had to do rather than the things you wanted to do. Work, friends, family, social obligations. Sometimes it felt like there wasn’t a moment for yourself, let alone a moment with Jack.

But tonight was different.

You glanced at your phone, checking the time for what felt like the hundredth time. Jack had texted you earlier, promising he’d be over soon. And now, as the minutes stretched on, your anticipation only grew.

Just as you were about to head inside, your phone buzzed with a new message.

Jack: "I’m here, just pulled up."

You smiled to yourself, already feeling that familiar excitement bubble up inside you. Jack was the kind of guy who always knew how to make things feel effortless. Even when life got chaotic, when schedules collided and time seemed to slip through your fingers, he always found a way to make sure you had your moments.

You grabbed your jacket from the chair beside you, stepping off the porch just as Jack’s truck rolled up to the curb. He parked, cut the engine, and hopped out with that same easy confidence that never failed to make your heart race.

“Hey,” you said softly as he approached, feeling the soft night breeze tug at your hair. Jack was wearing a hoodie and jeans, looking effortlessly casual yet impossibly cute.

“Hey,” Jack grinned, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. He immediately stepped forward, pulling you into a hug that felt like a quiet reassurance. His arms wrapped around you as if to say, I’m here, and everything else can wait. You breathed him in, his scent, the warmth of his skin, the feeling of home.

After a beat, he pulled away slightly, cupping your face in his hands. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, as if the rush of the world had quieted just for the two of you.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw, the connection between you both undeniable.

Jack’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his lips curling into a smile. 

“I was thinking,” he started, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “What if we got away? Just the two of us. Somewhere we can be alone.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat. You didn’t need him to say much else; you knew exactly what he meant. He was always so thoughtful, so aware of the small moments where you both could just step outside the chaos and into something that was just about the two of you.

You grinned, stepping back slightly to look him in the eyes. “

Somewhere we can be alone?” you repeated, a playful edge in your voice. “You really think you can get me to leave the city and have an adventure with you?”

Jack chuckled, his fingers brushing against yours. 

“You know I can,” he teased, his voice light. “All you have to do is say yes.”

You didn’t need much more convincing. 

“Alright, Romeo. Take me somewhere we can be alone.”

Jack’s smile widened, and without another word, he took your hand, leading you toward his truck. You could feel the weight of the world lifting as he opened the door for you, his hands gentle, as if everything in this moment was somehow sacred.

The ride was easy, the kind of drive that made you feel like the world was behind you and everything ahead was a little more exciting. The radio played quietly in the background, a mix of old songs and new tunes, the soft glow of the streetlights fading as Jack drove you both toward the outskirts of town.

You didn’t ask where you were going. It didn’t matter. With Jack, there was something freeing about letting go of control, about letting him lead you to a place where you could forget everything else.

You’ll never have to be alone, I love you and that's all I really know

It was one of those rare, quiet afternoons where time seemed to stretch, where the usual noise of the world quieted down, and all you could hear was the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat. You were curled up on the couch in Jack’s apartment, a soft blanket draped over your legs, while the faint sounds of an old playlist you both loved filled the room.

Jack was sitting beside you, his arm around your shoulders, a half-empty coffee cup in his hand. He hadn’t said much, but the comfort of his presence was enough. Sometimes, there was no need for words.

The week had been hectic, meetings, practices, and everything in between. Jack had a big game coming up, and you could see the exhaustion written on his face. But in these quiet moments, when the world outside was on pause, everything felt like it could wait. All that mattered was now.

You shifted slightly, your head finding its way to his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a peaceful calm. His hand rested gently on your waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin.

"You know," Jack murmured after a while, his voice soft and warm, "sometimes I forget how much I love these quiet moments. Just us."

You smiled against his shirt, the weight of the words making your heart swell. You had always loved how easy it was to be with him, how, even in the rush of his busy life, he always found time for you.

"You say that now," you teased, glancing up at him with a playful smirk, "but wait until the next practice or game. You'll be back to your crazy, high-energy self."

Jack laughed, the sound of it filling your chest with warmth. 

"I guess you're right." He paused, then added, his tone shifting into something more sincere, "But even when everything’s moving fast, you're the one thing I know I can count on. I love you. And that's all I really know."

Your breath caught in your throat, his words landing like a soft touch against your soul. You lifted your head slightly to look at him, his brown eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You never have to be alone, you know that, right?" he added, his voice gentle but unwavering. "Not as long as I’m here."

There was something in the way he said it—like he meant every word, like he was offering you a promise. And in that moment, you knew with certainty that no matter what happened, no matter where life took you both, Jack would always be there.

You reached up to cup his face in your hands, studying the curve of his jaw, the warmth of his skin, the way his lips turned up ever so slightly when he looked at you. 

"I know," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I feel it every day. I love you, Jack."

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart flutter in your chest. "I’m never going anywhere," he murmured, pulling you closer until his forehead was resting against yours. 

"You’ll never have to be alone."

The world outside continued to move, people rushing through their busy lives, their own challenges and struggles. But here, in this little bubble of calm, time seemed to stop. It was just the two of you, and that was enough.

"You’re my person, (Y/N)," Jack said, his words so quiet, so intimate. "And I’m yours."

You nodded, a slow smile forming as you wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself melt into the comfort of his embrace. 

"I know," you repeated softly, the words sinking deep into your heart. "And that’s all I really need."

For a long while, neither of you said anything more. You didn’t need to. The quiet moments, the stillness between you, were enough to convey everything that words couldn’t. And in the stillness of those moments, you knew that you were home.

As Jack gently kissed the top of your head, you realized that love didn’t have to be complicated. It didn’t have to be grand gestures or sweeping declarations. Sometimes, love was found in the quiet, in the little things, in the promise that no matter what, you’d always have each other.

And with Jack, you knew you would never have to be alone.

word count - 2911

[theawkwardone6]

Anyone else just scrolling through the watcher tag and laughing

We could just buy the subscription or unsubscribe from the YouTube channel bc we disagree on principle but instead let’s fight😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭it’s so funny. And the fact that they’re STILL fighting. Like how are you surprised by this in the slightest

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER ii. [9.1k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.

୨୧‬┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is 19 and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe

୨୧‬┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡

MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.

You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.

"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.

Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.

'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'

"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.

Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.

Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.

You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.

Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.

"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.

Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.

God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.

You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.

Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.

Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.

Easy.

But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.

This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.

And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.

Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.

Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.

The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.

Overall it was big, and intimidating.

Just like him.

'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’

*BEEP BEEP*

Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.

Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.

Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.

"You busy daydreaming or what?"

Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.

“So, new truck huh?”

"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.

Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."

You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?

Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!

Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.

Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.

"Huh? W-what do you mean?"

"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."

Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"

"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.

Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!

You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.

There’s no damn way…

Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.

This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.

This was crazy.

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”

Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”

That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ - - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'

Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'

Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.

The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.

Not like it was meant for him anyway.

Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.

As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.

But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.

Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.

This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.

Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.

After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.

Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.

You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.

Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.

Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.

Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.

You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.

Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.

Everything was going fine.

You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.

“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.

Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!

Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”

“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.

“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.

You weren’t going anywhere.

So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.

Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.

He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.

“S’not my money anyway..”

Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.

There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.

Keyword: Trying.

Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing. 

You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.

It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.

What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"

This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.

At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!

Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.

'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'

"The fuck are you doing?"

The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.

"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.

'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.

That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.

Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.

"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.

Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.

Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.

"Lift your arms up."

Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.

"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."

Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.

Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.

He put his coat on you.

You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.

"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."

"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."

Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.

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Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.

"Cinnabon? Really?"

"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.” 

You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."

“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place." 

He still remembers something like that? 

You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.

Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.

The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life. 

The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.

Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap. 

Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate. 

'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'

Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips. 

After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water. 

Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.

"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.

He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin." 

Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating. 

"How come you didn't get yourself one?"

He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes." 

"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.

It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.

"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"

"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.

"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."

"It is." You sighed. 

"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities." 

"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.

As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away. 

"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."

"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.

"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."

"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.

Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something. 

"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"

And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.

It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’

"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?" 

You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?

Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.” 

He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.” 

He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say. 

Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.” 

Toji stayed silent. 

The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again. 

What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.

Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.

You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."

Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now. 

But then it got him wondering…

"You ever had a boyfriend before?" 

The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life. 

"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.

Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?" 

This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless. 

You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"

That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."

Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask. 

One thing he simply had to know.

"Oh yeah?"

"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."

Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.

"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"

"Well…not exactly.." 

Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.

"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?

And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.

"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot." 

"Sounds like some shitty friends." 

You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."

Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.

Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"

Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.

"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence." 

Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe. 

"It's why I've never gone further than that." 

If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity. 

Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.

Speaking of telling him…

‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’

You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.

"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"

Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.

“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.

“I mean yeah…but still…”

Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.

“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.

He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.

“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”

“No problem.” 

You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles. 

Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips. 

Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself. 

‘This little minx..’  but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.

“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”

With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys. 

You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.

“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.” 

Toji only hummed in acknowledgement.

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The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.

On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating. 

Baby steps are still steps after all. 

And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.

‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’

Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console. 

Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.

“Yo, what’s up?”

Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.

“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-” 

Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.

Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right? 

“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”

“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”

Toji ignored the snark.

“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?” 

“I…wasn’t saying anything.”

Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.

Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.

“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.

“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.

Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.

You nearly teared up at your own naivety.

Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad. 

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On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.

One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.

Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.

“Fuck.”

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Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.

“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”

Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket. 

“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.

Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it. 

‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’

Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.

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You couldn’t sleep.

Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!

Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.

Only one option left.

Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch. 

Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone. 

As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this. 

Toji. 

Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his. 

You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now. 

You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside. 

Just a little more…

Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.

You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.

Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?

In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.

“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.” 

You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.

Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”  

You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit. 

Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.

Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around. 

Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.  

No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.

And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.

Wait.

“Wake up.”

What?  

“Wake up!”

Is that my fucking cat talking!?

“WAKE UP!”

Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.

“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties. 

You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up. 

Ugh.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down. 

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After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on. 

Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it. 

You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all. 

And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.

Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.

With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.

A plan on how to seduce your neighbor.

You giggled to yourself. 

“Mama chose a thought daughter.”

© SUGUCIDAL 2024 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

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Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 8.5k | Proof read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | series masterlist

Summary : Your father is fed up with your shenanigans, so he arranges a marriage to Rome's famous general and gladiator, Marcus Acacius.

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Oral F and M, Implied age gap, Scars, Misogyny, Spitting, both give switch vibes,

A/n : I put a dub-con warning just because it is a forced/arranged marriage also ty and enjoy @multiversed-daydreamer for listening to me yap about this all day luv ya 💕

The table was set, lit, and ready for a feast. Grapes, wine, cheese, and meats lined the table. Being the daughter of a powerful general had its perks, not that you liked the kind of life you had. You understood you were privileged, your place in society clear. You knew that if it weren't for your father's position, you would probably be a slave to the hierarchy. But it didn't mean you had to like your life.

You were 18 and shockingly unmarried—not that you cared. You had more fun sneaking away to the parties that would happen late at night. You were happy for the fact you weren't tied down yet. The thrill of escaping your father's watchful eye and diving into the forbidden world of Rome's underground festivities made your heart race.

You had a reputation, one that was far from ladylike. Wild child, they called you, and you wore it like a badge of honor. You knew what sex was, what things happened in the dark corners of those parties, but you were still a virgin. Your knowledge came from observation, whispers, and the daring escapades you had witnessed, but you hadn't crossed that final threshold. Not yet.

Your father, a stern and formidable general, was a man who worked with gladiators and other powerful figures in Rome. His influence was vast, and his expectations were high. He had grown increasingly frustrated with you lately, and you couldn't quite understand why. His annoyance with your antics was palpable, but there was something more, something beneath the surface that gnawed at him.

As you sat there, wine goblet in hand, you sipped slowly, savoring the taste. You knew he would tell you to only have a single glass, a rule you delighted in bending. The door to the grand hall burst open, and there he was, your father, his expression a storm of irritation and something deeper, something darker.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the hall. "Drinking again?"

You looked up at him, feigning innocence. "Just a single glass, Father, as you always insist."

His eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room with swift, purposeful strides. "You think I don't know what you get up to, do you? Sneaking out, causing trouble. Do you have any idea how this reflects on me? On our family?"

You sighed, placing the goblet down. "I know, Father. But you can't keep me locked away forever. I'm not a child anymore."

He stood before you, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're my daughter, and you will behave with the dignity and decorum befitting your station."

You met his gaze, unflinching. "And what if I don't want that life? What if I want to be free, to make my own choices?"

His frustration seemed to boil over, and for a moment, you thought he might explode. But then, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You don't understand the dangers out there. The people I deal with—the gladiators, the politicians—they're not like the ones at your little parties. They're dangerous."

You softened slightly, sensing the genuine worry behind his anger. "Then tell me, Father. Explain why you're so frustrated lately. What aren't you telling me?"

He hesitated, the walls he had built around himself momentarily crumbling. "It's complicated," he finally said, his voice quieter. "There are threats... to our family, to our position. I'm trying to protect you, even if it doesn't seem like it."

You reached out, touching his arm. "I want to understand. Help me see what you see."

He looked down at your hand, then back at your face, a mixture of anger and sorrow in his eyes. "Maybe it's time you did," he said, his voice resigned. "But you must promise me, you'll be careful. This world is not as kind as you think."

You nodded, determination filling your chest. "I promise, Father. I'll be careful. But I won't be caged."

Your father's expression hardened once more, and the momentary softness disappeared. He sat down at the table, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping one into his mouth. "Enough. This isn't up for discussion," he snapped. "You are to be married."

Your heart plummeted. "Married? To whom?"

His eyes were cold as steel. "To a man who can protect you, who can secure our family's future."

You jumped to your feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "No! I don't want to be married off like some piece of property. I won't do it!"

He towered over you, his presence suffocating. "You have no choice. This is for your own good."

"Who is it then?" you demanded, your voice rising in defiance. "Is it Lucius? That lecherous old man who can't keep his hands to himself?"

Your father shook his head, his jaw clenched. "No, not Lucius."

"Is it Gaius, then?" you asked, pacing around the table, barely noticing your father grabbing a slice of cheese and eating it with deliberate calmness. "The pompous fool who thinks he's the smartest man in Rome but can't even string a coherent sentence together without tripping over his own ego?"

"Not Gaius."

"Then it must be Quintus! The brute who only knows how to solve problems with his fists, who would treat me like a possession rather than a person."

"No, it isn't Quintus either," your father snapped, his patience wearing thin. He took a deep drink from his own goblet, trying to steady himself.

"Who then? Who could possibly be suitable in your eyes?" you spat, your desperation clear.

Your father took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's Marcus Acacius."

The name sent a jolt through you, and you took an involuntary step back. Marcus Acacius, a name whispered in both awe and fear throughout Rome. A man known for his prowess in the arena and his cunning outside it. A man with a reputation as cold and unyielding as stone.

"Marcus Acacius?" you echoed, disbelief coloring your tone. "You can't be serious. He's a gladiator, a killer."

"He's more than that," your father insisted. "He's powerful, respected, and capable of protecting you from the dangers you don't even know exist."

You shook your head, your mind reeling. "No, Father. You can't do this to me. I won't marry him."

"You will," he said firmly. "And you will do it for our family, for our future."

You felt the walls closing in, the life you had known slipping away. You slumped back into your chair, staring at the untouched food before you. "What if... what if I've already been with someone else?" you blurted out, hoping to find some way out of this nightmare.

Your father's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "Have you been taken by another lover?"

You hesitated, the lie heavy on your tongue, but the fear of his wrath kept you silent. "No," you finally admitted, defeated.

"Then it's settled," he said, the finality in his voice chilling. "You will marry Marcus Acacius, and you will do so with dignity."

Tears of frustration and anger welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "I won't be happy, Father. Not with him, not with this life."

He reached out, a rare gesture of tenderness, and touched your cheek. "Happiness is a luxury we can't afford," he said softly. "But safety, security—that is something I can give you."

You pulled away, the weight of his decision crushing your spirit. "I don't want to be safe. I want to be free."

His hand fell to his side, and his eyes hardened once more. "Freedom is an illusion, my daughter. And you will learn that soon enough."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the grand hall, the weight of your impending marriage pressing down on you like a vice.

Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.

Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.

You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.

Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.

Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.

Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.

You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.

Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.

It had been a month of plotting and planning, each day dragging on as your impending fate loomed ever closer. Today was your wedding day, the day your life would be sealed into a destiny you hadn’t chosen. Final preparations had been completed yesterday, and now you were meant to step into the role of a dutiful daughter and bride. You had woken up earlier than your maids would have roused you, knowing your father would want you to rest more so you appeared extra fresh for Marcus. Instead, your nerves had kept you up all night, the shadows on the walls morphing into ominous shapes as you thought of your future.

The first light of dawn crept through the narrow window, and you knew you couldn’t waste any more time. Your small bag, packed with bread, a few pieces of jewelry to sell, and the spending money your father occasionally gave you, lay hidden under the covers of your bed. The plan was simple: catch the slightest bit of rest before your handmaid came in to wake you, then escape before anyone noticed.

The door creaked open, and Lucia, your handmaid, entered with her usual gentle and serene presence. She glided to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, casting a warm glow that felt almost mocking given your circumstances. You sat up in bed, the light highlighting the bags under your eyes from a sleepless night.

"Good morning, my lady," she said dreamily, her voice like a lullaby. "The sun is shining so beautifully today. It's a perfect day for a wedding." She moved to your side, her hands deftly beginning to arrange your hair with practiced ease. You watched her reflection in the mirror, feeling a pang of guilt for the deception you were about to execute.

"Your dress is so beautiful, my lady. It's like a dream come true. You'll look like a goddess, a vision of perfection," Lucia continued, her words meant to comfort but only adding to your anxiety. The dress she spoke of hung in the corner, a symbol of the life you were being forced into.

You let her continue, her words a soothing balm against your churning thoughts. As she began to apply a light makeup, using berries to tint your lips and cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a sense of finality creeping in. "You'll be the envy of every woman in Rome," she continued, her voice full of admiration. "Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You'll be safe with him."

Safe. The word echoed in your mind, tinged with bitterness. Safety was a cage, and you longed for freedom. Suddenly, you sat up, startling Lucia. "I need your dress," you blurted out, your voice urgent.

She looked at you, shocked and confused. "My dress, my lady? Why would you want my dress?" she asked, her hands frozen in mid-motion.

You gave her a reassuring smile, reaching under your bed to pull out a dress you had kept for a long time. It was a simple yet elegant gown, one she had always admired. "I have something for you," you said, handing her the dress. "I've seen how much you like it. Today, I want you to wear it and have fun. I just... I want to feel normal before the wedding."

Her eyes widened, and a smile of pure joy spread across her face. "Thank you, my lady. Thank you so much!" She looked at the dress, then back at you. "But what about you? Where will you be?"

You hesitated for a moment, crafting a believable lie. "I'll be eating breakfast with the soldiers. I need a moment to myself before the chaos begins."

She nodded, believing your words, and quickly changed into the dress you had given her. You watched as her usual plain attire was replaced by the elegant gown, the transformation bringing a genuine smile to your face despite the turmoil in your heart. "You look beautiful," you said, forcing a smile. "Now go, enjoy yourself."

Lucia beamed, her happiness palpable. "Thank you, my lady. I'll remember this day forever." She gave a small curtsy and hurried out, eager to enjoy the brief taste of luxury you had gifted her.

As soon as the door closed behind her, you sprang into action. Your heart pounded as you grabbed your small bag from under the covers and moved swiftly towards the door. The corridors of the castle were quiet, the early hour ensuring most were still in their beds. You moved with purpose, your sandals barely making a sound on the stone floors.

Every step you took was filled with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. You had never been so bold, and the risk was immense. If you were caught, the consequences would be severe, but you couldn't live a life that wasn't yours. The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage with Marcus Acacius spurred you on.

You reached the courtyard, the cool morning air filling your lungs as you dashed towards the farthest end where the horse stables were located. The sound of hooves and the scent of hay greeted you as you approached, your eyes scanning for a suitable mount. Freedom was within reach, and your heart soared with the possibility.

But then, a familiar, stern voice cut through the morning air. "Where do you think you're going?"

You sprinted, your sandals slapping against the cobblestones as the guards closed in. Heart pounding, you reached the barn, your fingers fumbling with the latch. The sound of pursuing footsteps fueled your frantic efforts, and finally, the door swung open. You dashed inside, the scent of hay and horses enveloping you. There was no time to lose.

Without wasting a moment, you chose the newest and fastest horse, a powerful chestnut stallion that had always intimidated you with its raw strength. It was your only chance. Your hands shook as you grabbed its mane, your heart hammering in your chest. The stallion snorted, sensing your urgency. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

"Hyah!" you urged, kicking your heels against its sides. The stallion reared, its powerful muscles tensing beneath you, then surged forward, galloping towards the gates. The wind whipped through your hair, the thundering of hooves drowning out the shouts behind you.

The gate loomed ahead, freedom tantalizingly close. You leaned forward, urging the horse faster. As you rode, you navigated the narrow alleys and sharp turns of the castle grounds, the stallion's speed making every twist and turn feel like a life-or-death gamble. The guards were not far behind, their yells growing louder, but you kept pushing, your eyes fixed on the gate.

You had run from the guards before, slipping through their grasp with quick wits and nimble feet, but this was different. The stakes were higher, the danger more palpable. The horse beneath you was your only hope, its powerful strides eating up the distance between you and the gate. But it was also a wild, untamed force, difficult to control.

As you neared the gate, you saw it beginning to close. Panic surged through you. With a desperate cry, you urged the stallion faster. The ground seemed to blur beneath you, the world a whirl of motion and sound. The horse’s breath came in powerful snorts, its muscles straining with effort.

Just as you thought you might make it, the stallion stumbled on a loose cobblestone. You were flung from its back, the world spinning around you as you hit the ground hard. Pain shot through your body, your vision swimming with stars.

When you opened your eyes, the sky above was a brilliant blue, and the scent of earth and grass filled your nostrils. You groaned, trying to sit up, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you.

"Easy there," a deep, soothing voice said. You turned your head and found yourself staring into the concerned eyes of a stranger, his face handsome and strong, framed by dark curls. He knelt beside you, his touch gentle but firm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

You blinked, trying to focus through the haze of pain and confusion. "Who... who are you?"

A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips. "My name is Marcus Acacius. And you must be my bride."

The revelation hit you like a bolt of lightning. This was the man you were meant to marry, the man you were running from. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw not the tyrant you had imagined, but a man filled with genuine concern and curiosity.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," Marcus continued his voice a mix of authority and kindness. "It's dangerous. Let me help you."

The irony of the situation was almost too much to bear. You had been fleeing from your fate, only to run straight into its arms. As Marcus helped you to your feet, his hands strong and reassuring, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your destiny was more complex than you had believed.

Marcus's strong arms guided you inside, each step a reluctant surrender to the fate you had been trying to escape. The castle's grand corridors, usually bustling with servants and courtiers, were eerily quiet in the early morning light. You were disoriented, the pain from your fall mingling with the turmoil of your thoughts.

As you entered your bedchamber, a familiar and unwelcome face greeted you. Aurelia, one of your father's maids and his well-known mistress, stood there with a smug expression. Her presence was a bitter reminder of your father's indiscretions and the fractured state of your family.

"Well, well," Aurelia purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "What a surprise to see you here, my lady. Running away on your wedding day? How very unbecoming of you."

You shot her a withering glare, your temper flaring. "Spare me your lectures, Aurelia. I'm not in the mood for your sanctimonious drivel."

Aurelia's smile widened, enjoying your discomfort. "You should be grateful for the match your father has arranged. Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You could do far worse."

You clenched your fists, your anger barely contained. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify spreading your legs for my father? That you're doing it for power and security?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she maintained her composure. "Watch your tongue, girl. You may not like me, but I'm here to make sure you fulfill your duty. Now sit down and let me get you ready."

Reluctantly, you sat down, feeling trapped and helpless. As Aurelia worked on your hair and makeup, her touch was firm and unyielding. Her presence was suffocating, her every word a reminder of the life you were being forced into.

"You think you can escape your destiny?" Aurelia continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "You're just a foolish girl. This marriage is your only chance at a future."

You bit back a retort, knowing it would only fuel her smug superiority. Instead, you focused on the mirror in front of you, watching as she applied the final touches to your appearance. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable—a vision of beauty and elegance, but one that felt like a mask hiding your true self.

Once Aurelia finished, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "You look perfect. Ready to be a proper bride."

You stood, your heart heavy with dread. The grand hall awaited, filled with guests and the weight of expectation. As you made your way towards it, you felt the walls closing in, your fate sealed with every step.

The hall was decorated with lavish flowers and banners, the scent of incense filling the air. Guests whispered and watched as you entered, their eyes following your every move. At the far end, Marcus Acacius stood, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

The ceremony began with the priest’s voice, resonant and solemn, echoing through the hall. The guests fell into an expectant silence, the only sounds being the faint rustling of their silk garments and the distant clinking of goblets. The hall, lavishly adorned with ivy and flowers, seemed to shimmer with an almost otherworldly glow, casting shadows that danced like phantoms along the walls.

You stood at the altar, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. The priest’s words, though intended to be a comfort, were like a dark incantation, each syllable wrapping around you tighter, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your fate. Your eyes flickered over to Marcus, standing with his back straight, his gaze unwavering. He looked every bit the powerful man he was rumored to be—tall, imposing, with a presence that commanded the room.

You recalled the whispers you had heard over the past months—the stories of Marcus Acacius. The tales were rife with speculation and fear, his name often mentioned in hushed tones. They spoke of a man whose ambition knew no bounds, whose cruelty was whispered about in every corner of Rome. Some said his eyes held a darkness that could see through to the soul, while others claimed he had a penchant for the macabre, often indulging in extravagant displays of power.

As the priest began the traditional vows, his voice a monotone murmur, you tried to focus, but the words blurred into a cacophony. "Do you, Marcus Acacius, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"

Marcus’s voice was steady, unwavering. "I do," he said, his tone deep and commanding, sending shivers down your spine.

When it was your turn, the words caught in your throat, your voice barely a whisper. "I... I do," you managed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, the weight of your submission crushing your spirit.

The priest nodded, a satisfied smile curling his lips. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

As the priest declared you bound by law and faith, the room erupted into applause, the sound a thunderclap that seemed to echo off the very stones of the castle. Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, leading you down the aisle. The guests showered you with petals, their faces a blur of congratulations and forced smiles. You felt like a puppet, each step you took dictated by an invisible string.

The reception hall was a whirlwind of opulence, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasting meats. Long tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous feasts, while musicians played melodies that mingled with the laughter and chatter of the guests. The hall’s high ceilings seemed to stretch into eternity, adorned with golden chandeliers that sparkled like stars.

You clung to the edge of the hall, the laughter and music a distant hum, your mind wandering back to the dark tales you had heard of Marcus. The rumors were impossible to ignore: they spoke of his ruthless ambition, his cold demeanor, and his unsettling fascination with power. Some said his parties were a mask for darker pursuits, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into obscurity.

As Marcus moved through the crowd, his demeanor was that of a king—gracious yet commanding, his laughter rich and resonant. He was surrounded by his closest allies, men whose eyes gleamed with greed and ambition. They raised their goblets in his honor, their voices melding into a chorus of congratulatory toasts.

You stood near a heavy oak door, the cool stone beneath your fingers a reminder of the stark reality you now faced. The night was growing darker, the moonlight streaming through the tall windows casting an eerie glow on the festivities.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you away from the door. It was one of the guards, his expression grave. "My lady, you mustn't go near that door. Your father has given strict orders. Any guard who aids your escape will be put to death."

You stared at him, a chill running down your spine. "What do you mean? You can’t be serious. There’s no way out of here. You’re all trapped too."

The guard’s eyes flickered with a mix of pity and resolve. "It’s true, my lady. Your father’s command is ironclad. He has spies everywhere. If you try to leave, he will know. And the consequences for anyone who helps you are severe."

A knot of fear and frustration tightened in your chest. "What do you expect me to do? Just stand here and pretend everything’s fine?"

He hesitated, his grip on your arm softening. "No, my lady. But perhaps you could find a way to make the best of this night. Try to speak to him, learn his intentions. There may be more to him than the rumors say."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, your mind spinning with the guard’s words. With a determined stride, you made your way through the crowd towards Marcus, who was leaning casually against a pillar, a goblet of wine in his hand. His eyes were slightly glazed from the alcohol, but his gaze sharpened as he saw you approaching.

"Marcus," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "I wanted to thank you for your help earlier today. I... I appreciate it."

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You mean when you tried to flee?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. "You have spirit, I'll give you that."

You forced a smile, trying to gauge his true nature. "I only wished for a moment of freedom. But I suppose that is behind us now."

Marcus took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours. "Freedom is a fleeting thing, my dear. But power... power is eternal. And together, we shall wield it."

Your stomach churned at his words, the rumors about him echoing in your mind. "Is that all you care about? Power?" you asked, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

His smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "You misunderstand me. Power is not an end, but a means. It ensures safety, prosperity, and control over one's destiny. Is that so terrible?"

You struggled to see past the image you had built of him. "I’ve heard things about you, Marcus. Dark things."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "People fear what they do not understand. Let them talk. What matters is that I have the means to protect those I care about."

His words, though seemingly sincere, did little to quell your doubts. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your father’s voice boomed across the hall.

"Honored guests!" he called out, drawing everyone’s attention. "The hour grows late, and it is time for my daughter and her new husband to retire to their bedchamber."

A murmur of approval and knowing smiles rippled through the crowd. Your heart raced, a mixture of dread and resignation filling you. Marcus extended his hand to you, his grip firm and possessive as he led you through the throng of guests towards the grand staircase.

As you ascended the stairs, the weight of your future bore down on you. You glanced back once, seeing the guests' faces fade into the distance, their laughter and conversations becoming a dull roar. When you reached the door of the bedchamber, Marcus paused, turning to face you.

"This is just the beginning," he said, his voice low and intense. "We have much to learn about each other."

You swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Yes, we do."

He opened the door, and you stepped inside, the room lit by the soft glow of candlelight. The bed, draped in rich fabrics, seemed to loom ominously in the center. Marcus closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding like a final seal on your fate.

As he moved closer, you felt a mix of fear and curiosity. This was the man you were now bound to, and despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of you that longed to understand him, to find the truth beneath the rumors.

"Let's start anew," he said, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "Whatever you have heard, whatever you fear, put it aside. We are bound by more than words and vows. Let’s see where this path takes us."

You recoiled from his touch, your anger bubbling to the surface. "I'd rather fuck a pig than you," you spat, your voice dripping with venom. The shock on his face quickly morphed into a cold, calculating expression.

"You need to learn your place," Marcus hissed, his grip tightening on your arm. "You should consider yourself lucky to have me, especially with your reputation."

You glared at him, your temper flaring. "Lucky? Is that what you think this is? A blessing? I know what people say about you, Marcus. They call you ruthless, a monster. I'd rather die than be your plaything."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You speak so boldly for someone in such a precarious position. But let me make something clear: you are mine now. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you in line."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and defiance. "You can't control me. I'll never submit to you."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Is that so? Tell me, my bride, are you truly a virgin, or have your wild antics already sullied you?"

The question caught you off guard, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "How dare you—"

"Answer me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. "Are you a virgin?"

You clenched your fists, refusing to be cowed. "Yes, I am," you snapped, your voice trembling with rage. "Not that it's any of your business."

He seemed taken aback for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face. "So, you are pure, despite everything. Interesting."

"You think you can just claim me like some prize?" you retorted, your voice rising. "I won't be your obedient little wife. I won't be another notch on your belt."

Marcus's expression hardened, his grip on your arm like iron. "You will be my wife, and you will learn to respect me. You don't know the first thing about power or survival. But you will."

"You don't scare me," you lied, your voice faltering slightly.

"Don't I?" he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. "You should be scared. But perhaps you're just too stubborn to realize it."

"Stubborn?" you scoffed. "Is that what you call it when someone refuses to bow to a tyrant?"

His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you. But instead, he did something even more unexpected. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, passionate intensity.

You froze, your mind racing as his kiss deepened. There was a raw, undeniable heat between you, a clash of wills and desires. Your initial shock gave way to a whirlwind of emotions—anger, fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn't quite name.

As his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, you found yourself responding, your body betraying your mind. The kiss was a battle, each of you struggling for dominance, neither willing to yield.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart racing. His eyes were dark and intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them. You stared back at him, defiance and confusion mingling in your gaze, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I'm sorry," Marcus said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that."

His words, so out of character, only fueled your anger further. "Sorry?" you scoffed, pushing him back slightly. "You think a simple apology will make up for everything? For the way you've treated me, for the way you think you can just claim me?"

His jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "I know I can't make up for it. But perhaps... perhaps we can find a way to understand each other."

You were silent for a moment, then your eyes narrowed. "Understand each other?" you echoed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what this is about? Understanding?"

A dark, reckless impulse surged within you. You grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pulling him closer. "You think you can control me?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "You think you can just take what you want?"

Before he could respond, you pressed your lips to his again, this time with even more intensity. The kiss was fierce, a clash of wills and desires. You could feel the tension between you, the thin line between hate and something far more dangerous.

Marcus responded in kind, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. The room seemed to spin as you lost yourself in the raw heat of the moment, your anger and frustration boiling over into something wild and unrestrained.

You broke the kiss, your breathing ragged. "You want me?" you demanded, your voice a low, challenging whisper. "Then take me."

His eyes blazed with desire and a hint of confusion. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Shut up," you snapped, pulling him closer. "No more talking. Just... take me."

With a growl, Marcus responded, his hands tearing at your clothes with a desperate urgency. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his tunic. The fabric fell away, and you pressed your bodies together, the heat of his skin igniting a fire within you.

"You're infuriating," he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And you," you retorted, your hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, "are a tyrant."

He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire, "I hate you. And I need to feel something other than this... this helplessness."

He captured your lips again, his kiss searing and demanding. "I hate you too," he whispered against your mouth, his hands roaming your body. "But I can't resist you."

The world outside ceased to exist as you gave in to the storm between you. Clothes fell away, and you were left exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. You pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, your eyes locked in a battle of wills.

"You think you can control me?" you challenged, your voice breathless.

"I don't need to control you," Marcus replied, his hands gripping your hips. "I just need you."

Marcus brought his thumb to circle your clit, his rough touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You moaned slightly, your head falling back in bliss. His voice teased you, dripping with arrogance. "What, haven’t you touched yourself before?"

You gasped, grinding down against the hard length of his cock straddled between your legs. His smirk faltered at your audacity. "Of course I have," you retorted, your voice edged with defiance, a spark of rebellion lighting your eyes.

Marcus gripped your hips, lifting you off him with ease before moving to sit back against the headboard, his arms casually behind his head in a display of smug dominance. "You want the virgin to do all the work?" you taunted, your eyes narrowing in displeasure as you crawled closer.

His smirk returned, darker this time. "The virgin, huh? That's what I get to call you now?" He paused, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "You're the one who's on me like a dog in heat."

You looked at him with a dark expression, sitting back on your thighs, your chest heaving with frustration and desire. With one hand, you began to caress his upper thigh, mimicking the movements you'd seen from the sex workers in your father's employ. Though inexperienced, you weren't ignorant; you'd read secret novels and asked questions of your father's mistresses. But nothing had prepared you for the raw reality of this moment.

"You know what to do?" he questioned a challenge in his eyes, his voice a low growl.

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue. The taste was oddly addictive. You wrapped your hand around his thick length, marveling at how it almost didn't fit in your grip. Steadying him, you licked the tip, eliciting a deep groan from him.

"Don't be shy," he patted your head condescendingly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Despite your nerves, you collected spit in your mouth and let it fall onto the tip of his cock, watching as he rubbed it around with a satisfied smirk.

You took the tip into your mouth, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, and groaned at the flavor. He moaned deeply as you sucked gently, guiding your head with his hand. You gagged slightly as you tried to take more of him in, your hand still gripping the base, your eyes watering with the effort.

"Spit on it," he commanded. You did as he asked, letting more saliva dribble onto his length. He patted your head again, a gesture both condescending and encouraging, and you resumed sucking, taking him deeper into your mouth. You gagged again, but he didn't let go, enjoying the sight of you struggling to accommodate his size.

"Come on," he urged, pulling you up to straddle his hips once more. You thought he was finally ready to take your virginity, the moment you'd both been building towards, but he surprised you. Gripping your hips with firm hands, he moved you so his face was between your thighs.

"What are you—" you began, but he cut you off, his lips attacking your clit with a fervor that stole your breath. He completed the arc with his tongue, taking your bud between his lips and sucking hard. You almost screamed, the pleasure overwhelming you. "Oh God," you moaned, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself.

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting yours with a predatory glint. "Marcus, baby… Marcus," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need and desperation.

He resumed his assault, his tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you wild. You began to grind against his mouth, the sensation too much to bear, yet not nearly enough. The tension built rapidly, your orgasm approaching with a force that took you by surprise.

"Marcus!" you cried out, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your body tensed and then shattered into a million pieces. He held your hips firmly to his face, lapping up every drop of your release as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue.

You fell back onto the bed, spent and trembling, and he crawled over you, his face slick with your essence. "Well, well," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his features as he rubbed his cock against your still-sensitive pussy. "Are you all fucked out already?"

You managed a weak glare, but it melted into a moan as he pushed into you. The stretch was intense, making you claw at his shoulders for support. He kissed your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of fire as he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in deeply. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching to meet his every movement.

"You hear that?" His gruff voice asked, pulling you back to the present as his cock dragged from your cunt, pushing back in slowly. The squelch of him pushing deep inside you was loud, the sound of your arousal undeniable. You threw your head back, moaning his name.

"Yeah, you do," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. His teeth grazed your delicate skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Hear how wet you are?"

You opened your eyes slowly, your vision filled with the sight of him. His beautiful, sweat-covered face was close to yours, every scar and wrinkle telling a story, the grey in his beard adding to his rugged appeal. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race.

A moan escaped your lips as his thrusts grew more desperate, more hungry. He caught your wrists together in one of his big hands, pressing them down into the mattress with a grip that left no room for escape. Your thighs were splayed wide, almost uncomfortably so, pressed down by the width of his hips. His cock was splitting you open, and you were so impossibly wet that you could hear it every time he pushed back into you, a lewd squelching sound that only seemed to spur him on.

He grinned wildly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "You like that, don’t you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Only I can make you this wet, make you submit so completely."

You could only moan in response, your body arching beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. "Marcus," you whimpered, the intense pleasure making you delirious. Your mind was a haze of sensation, every thrust sending you spiraling further into a world where only he existed.

His grin softened slightly, a hint of something almost tender in his eyes as he looked down at you. "That's right," he murmured, his voice a low growl. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each one driving home his dominance. "You're mine now."

You wanted to hate him, to deny the truth of his words, but with your body quivering beneath his, you knew he was right. You were his. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word claimed you, bound you to him in ways you had never imagined.

His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans, the slap of skin against skin, and the wet, obscene noises of your coupling. His free hand roamed over your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't get enough of you."

Your response was a garbled moan, your head thrown back in ecstasy. His words, his touch, everything about him overwhelmed you. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly, ready to snap.

He seemed to sense your impending release, his movements becoming even more deliberate, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough with his own need. "Let go. I want to feel you."

The command sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room, a testament to your surrender.

His weight pressed you into the mattress, his skin hot and slick against yours. You felt every throb of his heartbeat, every shudder of his breath. It was an intimacy you had never experienced before, raw and all-consuming.

As the waves of your shared climax ebbed, you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his body. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of passion.

As he lifted his head, his eyes met yours, filled with a complex mix of emotions. The intensity of his gaze made your heart flutter, but the softness in his expression was unexpected, almost tender.

"Well," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, "I guess the rumors were wrong. You're not a virgin after all." He paused, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, not anymore."

You felt a flush of anger rise within you. "And what if I wasn't? What difference would it make to you?"

He smirked, the familiar arrogance returning. "Just proves you're not as innocent as you pretend to be."

You pushed against his chest, forcing him to roll onto his side. "You're insufferable," you snapped, your breath still coming in short gasps. "You think you know everything, but you don't."

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe not everything. But I know enough."

You glared at him, the heat between you not entirely dissipated. "You don't know anything about me."

His hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "I know you're stronger than you think. And I know you feel something for me, whether you want to admit it or not."

You scoffed, turning your head away. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Or are you just afraid to admit it?"

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a shiver running down your spine. "Get over yourself," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your insides twist. "I could say the same to you."

You pushed at him again, trying to create distance, but he caught your wrists, holding them against the mattress. "Let go," you demanded, struggling against his grip.

"Not until you admit it," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Admit what?" you hissed, your anger flaring again.

"That you feel something for me," he said, his eyes boring into yours.

You glared at him, refusing to give in. "You're impossible."

He sighed, releasing your wrists and rolling onto his back. "Maybe I am. But so are you."

You lay there in silence for a moment, the tension between you thick and palpable. Despite everything, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the strange mix of hatred and desire that left you breathless and confused.

Finally, exhaustion began to creep in, your body heavy with the aftermath of your intense encounter. "This doesn't change anything," you said, your voice softer now, almost resigned.

"Maybe not," he agreed, his tone equally soft. "But it's a start."

You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes already on you. "What do you want from me, Marcus?" you asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice a whisper. "But I want to find out."

You closed your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

He chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly comforting. "Then don't. Just sleep."

You turned onto your side, your back to him, trying to create some semblance of space. The room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come, but your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't ignore the warmth radiating from Marcus's body, the solid presence of him beside you. There was a strange sense of comfort in his nearness, an unexpected feeling of safety that contrasted sharply with the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay there, the exhaustion from the night's events slowly began to overtake you. Your muscles relaxed, and your breathing grew steady and slow. You felt the mattress shift slightly as Marcus moved closer, his arm draping over your waist in a possessive yet gentle gesture.

For a moment, you considered shrugging him off, but the weariness was too much. Instead, you let yourself sink into the feeling of his arm around you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your back. It was oddly soothing, a stark reminder that despite the tumultuous start to your union, there was a potential for something more, something deeper.

"Goodnight," Marcus murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated before responding, the word barely a whisper. "Goodnight."

PART 2

[afterglowsainz]

Hey can I get a jealous Jude x female reader. Nothing too toxic lol l, it’s just some guys hitting y/n up on social media and somehow Jude sees the DMs and gets a little jealous. Then his petty self goes and posts a picture of him and his girlfriend on her ig or something petty like responds back with a “she’s busy bro”. Thanks 🫶🏻

jealousy | jude bellingham

obsessed with this concept already !!

summary: while you're getting ready to go out on a date with your boyfriend, he accidentally sees some dms he doesn't like and decides to do something about it

warnings: none

word count: 738

a/n: boring title booo i know i know i couldn't think of anything better :( i do hope you like the one shot tho it was fun to write about jealous jude <3

you were getting ready to go out on a date with jude while he was laying on your bed waiting for you. his phone was charging somewhere in the living room so you gave him yours to play a game so he doesn’t get bored. you were putting on your makeup while singing along to your playlist while he was building some villages or whatever it was that they do on clash royale. however, jude got distracted when an instagram dm pop up at the top of your phone, it was from this formula 1 driver that he knew was always liking your pictures, he didn’t knew he was dming you as well. he thought about opening the message, but he didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, so he simply looked at you.

“someone dm you.” he says.

his voice took you out of your little world and you place your gaze on him thought the mirror you were applying your makeup on.

“who?”

“lando norris.” he reads the name like he didn’t knew already.

“what does it say?” you hide a laugh and continue with your makeup routine.

jude opens the message and reads it out loud. it was obvious he was hitting on you by replying to a story you had posted earlier that day when you went to brunch with your friends and you felt cute.

“are you gonna answer?” he asks again, hints of jealousy on voice.

“not really, no.” you answer and go back to singing along and applying mascara on.

when jude goes back to the screen on your phone his thumb accidentally swipes left and your whole inbox is completely exposed to him. he didn’t meant to do that, but it really was an accident and he couldn’t help but see now that it was there, only he wished he didn’t have.

some of your dms were just conversations with your friends, but a lot of them were just guys replying to your stories and hitting on you, which made him even more jealous than before. you never replied to them, going as far as deleting some of the messages you received, but since you hadn’t checked your instagram since that afternoon a lot of dms from different guys complimenting you on your story were there for jude to find.

he frowns at the phone and takes a look at you, completely oblivious while doing your eyeliner. his eyes go back to the screen and he starts looking up some pictures that you took the week before of you two.

“do you mind if i post one of those pictures you took of us last week?” he asks out of nowhere. “so i can repost it on my story.” he clarifies.

you frown a bit confused because this is the first time he has asked you something like this, but after him seeing the other guy’s dm and feeling a bit jealous you connected the dots and smile amused.

“sure.” you say.

he nods and went to post a story with the two of you looking definitely like the couple you were. he spend a few seconds thinking about a good caption, landing on a simple “my boyfriend❤️”, very straight to the point. he also tagged himself big enough for everyone to see and posted the picture, a satisfied smile on his face.

when you were done with your makeup and ready to go, you approached him and sat on his lap, your phone still in his hand.

“let me see the picture.” you smiled. he shows you the story and you rolled your eyes, a bit amused at his possessiveness. “was that really necessary?” you point at the text and he just shrugs.

“i just feel like there’s a lot of people that don't know we’re together, you know? just wanna put it out there.” you nod, fighting the smile on your face and putting your arms around him.

“is that so?” you tease him, getting closer to him if that was even possible.

“yeah, lots of guys on your dms.” he confess. “they liked your selfie earlier.”

“hmm.” you answer. “i wouldn’t know about that, i only like one guy.” a treacherous smile takes over his lips and you take the opportunity to kiss him. “wanna go? we’ll be late to dinner.”

jude just nods and gets out of bed, never dropping your hand for a second.