#both of their kids got messed up in the end because of the curse on their bloodline

[mrsthunderkin]

The Highlord twins, Scarborough and Mordren Malbus

One is Sam's Great x4 grandpap the other is Bart's pap

Ijustthinkthey'reneeeeaaaat

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and the YJ

So, Marvel in the YJ. He’s one of their den mothers and all that. So like, in this AU, and in fact in all of my posts so far, Billy’s kept it under wraps that he’s a kid. So, as a result, the YJ think he’s just this really cool big brother (dad (they just don’t know it)) type of dude. Like he’s so nice. And he’s so nice to them especially. Like, he treats all of them the same way he treats adults. He doesn’t doubt their abilities, and when they fail, he’s still there to encourage them to get back up and he doesn’t even make them feel bad about it.

Like, the one time he was asked to spar with the YJ cause they wanted to for funsies I guess, he positively whooped their asses and somehow, someway found a way to still compliment their abilities, even if they didn’t last that long because the battle was a little one-sided. To be fair though, they had asked him not to go easy, which he didn’t. In the end, he got promptly scolded by Canary heavily when she found out he quite literally used Kid Flash as a rag doll and threw him at Aqualad. She said that the entire tape of him having a “friendly spar” with those kids, was essentially just him bullying them. To which Billy tried to defend himself by saying those kids were plenty capable. The defense didn’t work.

Then, there was this time Kon mentioned he couldn’t fly and Marvel offered him a lift. This somehow ended up with Marvel sort of T posing mid air as Kon and Robin hung on one arm, Artemis and Aqualad hung on the other arm, then Kid Flash held onto one leg while M’gann held onto the other.

Flash: “Wow.” *looking up at the YJ and Marvel* “That’s… actually kinda majestic, not gonna lie.”

Superman: *also looking up at Marvel and the YJ* “Is it though? What if one of them falls?”

Flash: “Eh. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Kid Flash proceeds to almost slip off and fall, which almost gives both the speedster and Kryptonian a heart attack. Thankfully, he catches himself by moving his feet really fast to boost himself back up. Worst part in their opinion is that Marvel didn’t even seem to notice.

Then, there was the time M’gann with Robin about something. Batman was also working nearby on a computer.

M’gann: “Hmm… We need advice.”

Robin!Tim: “We need an adult.”

Batman: *keeping an ear out cause he’s always happy to help one of his kids*

M’gann and Robin!Tim: *thinking before they speak up at the same time* “Marvel.” *they then both walk out of the room to find the Captain*

Batman: *a little upset that Tim did didn’t come to him for help but also a lot more concerned as to why they thought Marvel was a suitable choice to ask for advice, especially considering the fact that just earlier that day, he had caught the man scribbling on one of the meeting tables like a 5th grader scribbling on their desk*

Contrary to what Bruce thought might happen (I.e. something going wrong) apparently Marvel’s advice wasn’t too bad, seeing nothing had gone wrong yet. (He later found out that the two had asked for the best advice on how to incapacitate your enemy quickly. He found this out when he saw Tim throat punch a man. Said man went down almost immediately. When prodded for information for as to why he did that, he proudly proclaimed “Cap taught me”)

Also a little tidbit from the Marvel Cursing post about the YJ thinking that Marvel called one of them a dumb cunt. Courtesy to @helps-the-writing-brain-go

Billy’s recently noticed that the kids are acting funny. Though, he supposes it’s not a bad funny. If anything, whatever’s got them acting weird has got them doing better on missions, but still. It’s weird. What’s weirder is that whenever he compliments them, they shine twice as brighter than they normally do. What’s even weirder than that is that whenever they’ve messed up recently they look twice as nervous. Speaking of which, this was one of the moments they’ve messed up.

Marvel: “So… Uh- that didn’t go so well.”

YJ: *obvious signs of anxiousness on some and subtle on others*

Marvel: “But that’s okay! But that’s okay.” *trying his best to make the anxiety in them disappear* “We just have to try to be better next time. Like, and I hate to say this, maybe try calling in an adult next time? Like me? I could’ve zoomed over and helped you guys.”

YJ: *look at each other*

Artemis: “Wally’s the one who said that we shouldn’t call you in a try to do this on our own.”

Kid Flash: *dramatic gasp* “You know why I said that! It would’ve helped us all if Kaldur had tried to put the fires near the gas tanks out with his water powers!”

Aqualad: “I was busy being attacked by nearly five different people.”

YJ: *dissolve into arguing*

Marvel: “Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wally what did you mean by it would’ve helped you all? Me not being there would’ve been good?” *confused*

YJ: *immediate silence*

Kon: “Wally found out that you think one of us is dumb cunt.”

Kid Flash: “Dude! You guys need to stop ratting me out!”

Marvel: “What.” *stares in befuddlement*

M’gann: “And then he told us. So we’ve been trying to think of ways to not be uh… dumb cunts.”

Marvel: *blinks rapidly* “Again, what? Wally, where did you get this information from?”

Kid Flash: “When you were making cookies! I heard you say blah blah blah, what a dumb cunt.”

Marvel: *still staring in confusion*

Kid Flash: “Then, when I asked what you were talking about, Mary said you were talking about our performance on missions.”

Marvel: “…Okay. I’m going to be completely honest with you. I don’t remember a thing of what you’re talking about.”

Marvel then goes on to make a speech about how they’re wonderful heroes who shouldn’t let one person’s words guide them, especially in risky situations like a mission. He then told them that he was now going to stress bake and make some Minnesota cool whip, jello, fruit, not really salad, salad. (Courtesy to @jedipirateking) On the bright side though, the speech did leave the teens feeling better.

[luvyeni]

𐙚 : YOU CUM FAST W/ STRAY KIDS (reaction) ֶָ֢ !

content warning. cumming fast, unprotected sex, dirty talk

request: your you coming fast with enhyphen reaction was so good can you do sams for skz plzssss <33

authors note. anyways i hope you like it 🤍🫰🏽!!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

𐙚 : BANGCHAN ֶָ֢ !

you're so cute , and sensitive; he knew your pretty little pussy was super sensitive, but this was on a different level , he didn't do anything expect pull his cock out , stroking , your whining for him to hurry made him giggle down at your cute voice — shushing you up with a sweet kiss , pushing into your needy cunt , only to be met with your high pitched moan — the moan you made when you were cumming. "sweet girl , did you just cum?" you covered your face in embarrassment , he stroked your clit with his thumb. "don't hide from me baby." he took your hand away from your hand. "so sensitive pretty girl." he lined his cock back up with your twitching hole.

"that's okay , that means you'll just have to give me another one yeah ?"

𐙚 : LEE KNOW ֶָ֢ !

gonna tease you about it , even after you're finished — he's a fucking menace. you weren't even sensitive honestly , he just knew what buttons to press , and he loved to tease and this particular night he teased you a bit to much , teasing your clit , not letting you cum over and over , leaving you a already teary mess as he pulled his cock out , slapping it on your clit a few times , and it was just enough times to make you cum right then and there. "you're joking." he laughed. "did you just cum?" you whined. "shut up this is your fault." you ended up , switching leaving him on the button while you slotted your body in between his legs , putting his cock into your mouth , sucking him off until he finished. he still was teasing you as he cleaned you up. "what's so funny?" he shrugged.

"I've fucked you so many times but i didn't know your cunt was that sensitive."

𐙚 : CHANGBIN ֶָ֢ !

makes him even harder if that's possible , the fact he got you so worked up that you're cumming just from him stretching your cunt out. "you want my cock baby." slapping his fat cock on your cunt , you nodded , biting your lip as he lined up to your hold , holding your waist down as he entered you. "binnie." you moaned, your nails digging into his bicep. "fuck binnie im gonna cum." he cursed feeling you cum around him , your eyes rolling to the back to his head. you felt him grow harder inside of you if that was even possible. "oh fuck , baby." he pulled out , pushing back into your sensitive cunt. "binnie - m'too sensitive."

"you can give me another baby, don't be selfish."

𐙚 : HYUNJIN ֶָ֢ !

he knew something was different — he knew your body , and he could tell someone was different — you moaned a little too loudly , your legs were shaking more than usual , so he knew , but that didn't stop him from being shocked as you came as soon he as he entered your warm and wet cunt. "fuck princess." he let out a dry laughed. "i knew you were sensitive today , but i wasn't expecting this." he pulled out , slapping his cock on your cunt. "can you take another?" you moaned nodded , moaning as he filled you back up. "there we go." he sighed.

"cum again for me love."

𐙚 : HAN JISUNG ֶָ֢ !

shocked as fuck because normally he's the one cumming fast , especially when you're riding him — but today you both were just a bit too sensitive , because he could feel himself about to cum prematurely as soon as you sunk down on his , whimper as your cunt swallowed him ; this was expected of him , for him to cum but you would keep going. what you both didn't expect is for you to cum , legs shaking as you held yourself up. "shit yo-you came too." he his voice was shaky as you began to move actually , moaning your name. "wa-wait -fuck- baby slow down. both of you tired as hell , drunk off each other , fucking until you both couldn't take it anymore.

"fuck you are right it is hot watching you cum so fast."

𐙚 : FELIX ֶָ֢ !

our sunshine boy here will be so confused — like are you okay , you're never that sensitive. was something off today? where you not feeling that good , he would never make you have sex if something was wrong , but you seemed to want him as much as he wanted you , he even skipped foreplay because you both needed each other so much , freeing his cock from it confinements , lining up with your perfect cunt , sighing as he finally entered you. "lix-lixie wait." it happened so fast and before he could pull out you were cumming. "baby are you okay?" he said full of concern. "you've never came so fast." he waited for answer , but instead he was met with you stroking his cock , lining him up with your cunt. "fuck baby , hold up i need –" you whined. "lixie please."

"please fuck me."

𐙚 : SEUNGMIN ֶָ֢ !

he's gonna be mean as hell , even though he was the one who was edging you for over and hour — like what did his expect? snatching his fingers away from your needy cunt , laughing as you whined from the sudden lost , slapping your swollen cunt. "fucking slut, so needy for my dick." he freed his cock from his pants , stroking his cock , slamming into your waiting cunt without warning. "seung-seungmin." you tried to warn him , but it was too late , you had already came before he even started moving. "did you just fucking cum?" you whimpered. "i-im sorry." he pulled out slapping your sensitive cunt over and over until you were screaming his name, legs shaking from overstimulation. he wasted no time slamming back into you.

"you wanna cum slut, you're gonna keep fucking cumming."

𐙚 : JEONGIN ֶָ֢ !

shocked as fuck — how did you even do that? he didn't even move? why was that so hot? he's confused and turned on all in one. "fuck jeongin." you moaned as he circled your clit , sliding back in. "sh-shit you came just from me putting it in." he groaned. "you like my cock that much?" he smirked. "love it so much." you whimpered. "please more." he pulled out, slamming back into you. "fuck!" you screamed as he kept going , fucking you through your prematurely orgams. "innie."

"take my cock , i want you to cum until i tell you to stop."

©️LUVYENI

[rogueddie]

There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.

Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.

He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.

Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.

“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”

“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.

“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”

“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”

"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."

It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.

With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.

Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.

At first, nothing happens.

Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"

"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.

The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.

"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"

"I didn't grab you."

"Wh- Steve?"

"No," is all Steve can get out.

"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."

Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.

"Fuck this," he says.

"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.

He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.

But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.

Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.

The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.

Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.

"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.

"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"

"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."

"And... Tommy and Carol?"

"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."

"Fuck."

"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."

"Or?"

"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."

He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.

"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.

"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"

"Could- could you make someone love me?"

"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"

"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."

Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.

"Your mom," he repeats.

"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."

"Steve..." Munson pauses.

He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.

"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."

"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."

"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."

"Please?"

"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."

"You're joking."

"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"

"On your head..."

Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?

Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-

He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.

"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.

At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.

"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"

He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.

She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.

"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"

"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."

"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."

Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.

He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.

Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.

[yuwuta]

mine. — inumaki toge

❝i just wanna say you’re mine, you’re mine; fuck what you heard, you’re mine, you’re mine.

000. inumaki toge + reader

001. fluff, non-curse/college au, slightly suggestive but barely, inumaki uses sign language and speaks like two actual verbal words

002. baby sized drabble, barely even 1k words

Toge would consider himself patient. He doesn’t mind waiting in long lines for the release of a new game, has no problem when the trains are delayed because it means he can sit and relax in the station a little longer, can sit for hours on end doing nothing and not be bored—but his tolerance for watching other people mess with his girlfriend is extremely low.

He reasons that you continue the conversation because you think it’s merely friend and polite to do so, and you’ve always been such a pleasantly happy drunk. But Toge knows this conversation isn’t friendly on the other end—and it’s not some protective boyfriend instinct, either, he has solid evidence of this idiot talking about you to his other idiot friend in front of Toge during lecture, with no knowledge that he was behind them, or that you are very not single.

(“She’s gorgeous, bro, look,” the kid muses, showing his friend your Instagram profile, “She’s in my bioethics class, and she’s easily the hottest girl. Smart, too. Little bit of a teacher’s pet, but I don’t care, she’s beautiful. A solid eight, for sure.”)

Toge knows that if this guy ever got his head out of his ass and ever bucked up the balls to actually ask you out instead of using roundabout flirting tactics and hopelessly pining over you during lectures, that you’d turn him down. He isn’t worried about losing you, and he doesn’t doubt your love for him. It does, however, concern him that there are people who believe they have a shot with you in the first place. He can’t possibly let that carry on. 

(Also, an eight? How could this guy call you beautiful, but say you’re an eight? It doesn’t equate—Toge doesn’t believe in rating women, but you’re not an eight. You’re a fifteen on a scale of one to ten; a shining star amongst a sea of planets; the love of his life). 

His fuse is about to blow when the guy touches you, reaches for your hair and carefully twirls a bit between his fingers. He knows that move; he knows the excuse was probably that there was something stuck to your hair, but Toge didn’t see shit. He’s had enough, and promptly bulldozes through Maki’s small apartment to reach you. He’s not sure if he’s making a ruckus, or if you can sense him coming, but you turn your head in his direction, a smile spreading on your face before cheering, “Hey, Toge! Do you—”

You’re cut off by a tug on your shirt, firm and impatient—but you’re not moving yet, not quick enough, so he does it again. Your eyes seem to light up with realization. You turn back to acknowledge the boy, and that’s really when Toge really loses it. All he hears is the stupid, desperate pitch of the kid’s voice sputtering out something about finding you later and grabbing drinks for you both, even as Toge’s dragging you through the crowd.

You let yourself be pulled by Toge’s greedy hand. It’s not all that far, just into a corner of the hallway, next to a closet where Maki keeps her cleaning and kickboxing supplies. He’s tempted to pull you into her bedroom, but he’s not up for being bruised for a week. 

“You okay?” you question, voice sweet and genuine—and it makes him grimace, because you really didn’t have a clue. Not one at all. 

Toge huffs, drops your hand to sign; using his left hand to circle around his face slowly, tapping at his chin. You understand, but only partially, given the slight tilt of your head and question that follows, “Beautiful? That’s why you’re upset?” 

He blinks slowly, shaking his head and flailing his arms in the direction of the living room. You follow his hands, down the hall then back to his face, but he can tell you still don’t get it. He tries again, pointing to you, then repeating his previous sign and adding another, and he can see the realization spread across your face, followed shortly by a bashful chuckle. 

“Too pretty? Me?” you ask to confirm. Toge nods his head, all serious and steely eyes, but you throw yours back with a hearty laugh this time. He crinkles his eyebrows, repeating his initial signs this time. Hdoesn’t know what’s so funny, if you’re laughing because you’re flattered or you find him ridiculous or something in between, but Toge means it either way; wants to ingrain it into you, just how beautiful you are.

So, he raises his hands again, when your eyes have met him again, and goes slower this time—pulls his mask down for good measure, so you can read his expression more clearly—to sign one simple word: “Mine.”

You tilt your head to the side again, and now Toge is the one laughing. He thinks you might be a little more drunk than you’ve let on, or maybe you just want him to indulge you. Either way, he has no problem repeating himself, doesn’t mind telling you again and again and again. 

He takes a step forward, leaving mere inches between you. You seem much smaller than him like this, still giggling, but he doesn’t mind. Toge reaches for your rest again, turning your palm upward and using a single finger to trace the letters of the word “mine,” onto your skin.

Your laughter comes to a halt when you verbalize his words, “Mine?” Toge nods, turning your wrist again to lace your hands together, pushes yours against the wall, uses his free one to cradle your cheek. He adores the way your pupils get bigger, the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. It’s his turn to smile, pulling you towards him for a kiss and ghosting his words over your lips, “You’re mine.”

[saetoru]

non curse au with gojo except he’s a lil loser boy.

doesn’t know how to dress. doesn’t know how to do his hair. is scrawny and short and awkward and he’s your neighbor and you sit with him on the bus sometimes. sometimes he comes over for dinner with his mom. sometimes you go over and he helps you with math homework. every once in a while you guys have a movie night and slowly but surely he becomes a good friend. people at school don’t rly look twice at him but that’s okay bc he has you and that’s all he needs.

and then one day you blink and the scrawny kid becomes all lean muscle. the short little guy is somehow towering over you. the bad hair cut is now a longer, tousled mess but in a good way and he’s learned some basic fashion that doesn’t make him look like a fool. somewhere along the line he got a bit more flirtatious and teasing but deep down he’s still the same guy.

he over explains math and physics when you ask him because he’s still just a bit of a nerd at the end of the day. you both have cars now but he starts petty arguments with “let’s just rock paper scissors” over who drives no matter how many times you tell him it’s his turn. he still sends you trailers to movies like “we’re watching this over the weekend.” you still visit his mom because she’ll never stop loving you. girls definitely give him attention now and sometimes he likes to be an ass and be a little attention whore—but he’s still the same. your lil loser boy. he still embarrasses himself in front of you sometimes because you never stopped being pretty. never stopped being painfully sweet. never stopped making his palms sweat and his heart race. and you never changed either—still seek him out first no matter who’s around.

there’s no real confession. no real oh! moment. you’ve both always just kind of known that it’s love. because you grow up and he does too but he never changes and you don’t either. you and him are the only consistent things you both have—the world could change but you won’t. it’s love, always has been, always will be—that much probably won’t ever change either.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Having to share a bed with Gojo Satoru at a love hotel

Listen...I've got a little carried away by this one. While I'm currently writing for Geto and Toji, this part will only contain Gojo as it ended up so damn long. Hope you still enjoy <3

Part l (Megumi, Nanami, Yuta)

Part lll (Toji, Geto, Haibara, Choso)

Sharing a bed with JJk men pt ll

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,8k (this was supposed to be a cute little one shot lol)

Warnings: No real smut, but it's getting REALLY spicy - you have been warned...

Synopsis: After pretending to be in a relationship with Gojo for some time, the two of you seem to be the perfect match for a mission at a love hotel.

It is ridiculous. You both know that all too well. Will it stop you from pretending to be Gojo’s girlfriend even though you aren’t more than friends? Absolutely not. You’ve been doing this for a while now, at the beginning only to take him as your plus one to a wedding and for him to fake proposals at restaurants for free meals. You are very aware of the fact that this is already going too far, especially when you consider that whole Jujutsu High seems to believe you.

“Hello there Gojo-bear!”, you cry out.

But it’s just way too fucking funny and comfortable to stop now. The thing is, it has a whole lot of benefits: easier missions, raises over raises, less trouble because everyone seems to fear your ‘boyfriend’ but most importantly you get to spend some time with Satoru himself. You hate to admit it, but the way he smiles down at you and wraps his arm around your waist does things to you you’d never say out loud.

“There you are honey!”, he replies with a sly grin, embracing you in his arms just like he always does.

The problem is, you just know that it isn’t more for him than a joke. Your heart stings in agony just thinking about the way he immediately scoots away from you as soon as nobody’s around anymore. To Satoru, you really are nothing more than a friend he enjoys to spend time and mess with.

“Yikes, why is this so cringe?”, Nobara mutters.

“Just wait until you find your true love, kids”, Satoru shouts towards them.

Fuck that ass eating smile of him and the way it makes your heart flutter. It’s all a lie and nothing else. Nothing but a made up story. Remember that.

“Satoru, (y/n). I have a mission for you. Follow me.”

The harsh voice of Masamichi Yaga pulls you out of your distress. A mission for both of you? Normally Satoru is sent alone. After all, he is the strongest and every other jujutsu sorcerer is only in his way. What is it that makes him think it is a good idea to send the both of you together?

“We were informed about a curse that killed over 100 couples within the span of a few weeks in several love hotels located in Tokyo. As you guys are the most disgusting couple I’ve ever seen, both of you were assigned to stay at the love hotel with the greatest number of deaths and exorcise that curse once and for all. Understood?”

It’s like your world turns upside down. Did you really hear that correctly? This has to be a joke, right? Ain’t no way he really thinks you and Satoru…Your gaze wanders to his shamelessly gorgeous face that seems as unbothered as usual. Of course. Everyone thinks you are a couple. Therefore, you are a perfect fit for this mission.

“Nothing easier than that. Just send me the location and we’ll get this done in no time. Right honey?”

“Right…”, you mumble.

“You know what that means, right?”, you hiss into his ear after leaving the director’s office.

“Yeah, a free night in a luxurious hotel on the back of the school!”

“No.”

You sign. How the hell is he so unmoved by all of this? Not even Satoru can be too dumb to realize what staying in a love hotel in order to exorcise a curse means…Right?

“If this curse only shows up in front of couples at love hotels then…then…”

Your mouth refuses to say it out loud. No, you are too prideful to confess to him that it makes your knees go weak and your heart bang inside your chest. Why do you bother anyway? You stretch your shoulders and look at him, face hardened.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The ride into the heart of Tokyo is longer than you remember it, considering Satoru is sitting right beside you and watching anime on his phone.

“Damn, this part gets me every time”, he almost sobs.

“How often did you watch that already?”

“I lost count at 17. What is that look on your face? Don’t you know what happens next?”

“I never watched that one”, you admit, casually shrugging your shoulders.

Satoru drops his phone, intense gaze piercing through you even though he’s wearing glasses.

“You’ve got to be kidding right? You are my girlfriend and you never-“

Thick silence, your eyes widen at the sound of this words coming from his mouth. Girlfriend? Did he actually say that?

“I mean fake girlfriend of course. Just getting ready for later I guess”, he adds along with scratching the back of his head.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

Can your heart just stop beating so damn loud? This is ridiculous, it was a slip of the tongue and nothing more.

“Listen, (y/n)…As soon as we step through the door of that hotel, you have to be my girlfriend”, he instructs you in a dead serious voice.

“No need to tell me, Gojo-bear…”, you comment dryly, more directed towards yourself than him.

After all, it is you whose love isn’t just a funny little prank. Your feelings are more than real, considering you can almost hear your heart shattering like fragile glass. How stupid it was to even think he could somehow feel the same way, that it’s more than a game to him. Who knows how much time he spends with other women behind your back…

“This is it. Are you ready?”

Get. Yourself. Together. You smile confidently and nod. Being in love with Gojo Satoru might be senseless, but revealing your true feelings towards him is even worse. No, you are way too prideful to give him that. Without thinking twice you grab his hand tightly just like you did multiple times before. You will get through this and bring this madness to an end after this mission.

“Hey, we’ve booked a room here for two.”

“The name?”, the man behind the desk asks while eyeing you intensely.

Fuck, don’t let your face turn red, withstand his gaze. Maybe he’s asking himself why a man like Satoru is with a girl like you…

“Gojo Satoru.”

“There you go. Feel free to use the elevator and call immediately if something is strange. Please check out before midday. Have a nice stay.”

“We sure will!”, Satoru replies with a cheeky grin before taking the key card and maneuvering you into the elevator.

“God, I can’t wait to be alone with you baby.”

You feel like choking while staring at him. Did he really just say that, is this for real?

“Listen, (y/n)…As soon as we step through the door of that hotel, you have to be my girlfriend”

Your heart sinks. Calm down, idiot. It’s only for the mission. You never know when and where the curse is, so it just makes sense to play along until it shows up. Reluctantly you smile at him with dead eyes. Why does this hurt so fucking badly? You pretended to be his girlfriend for more than a year now and it never bothered you that he held your hand and called you stupid nicknames. But this…This is something completely different. You are at a love hotel and Satoru is straight up trying to seduce you. How the hell are you supposed to feel about all of this?

“Let’s go, shall we?”

His hand rests on your hip while he leads you to the right room with ease. It feels like his hand burns against your skin, suddenly the air is way too hot to breathe properly. You want to get out of here, away from Satoru but at the same time you need him so much closer…What has gotten into you?

“Hey, no need to be nervous babe, I got you”, he breathes against your outer ear.

“I just…never done something like this. That’s all”, you admit dryly while avoiding his gaze at all cost.

“I’ll guide you, no worries.”

He closes the door behind you and cages your body with his. You are trapped between Satoru’s arms, no way to escape his intense stare and the way his large frame feels pressed against yours. At this point it seems like all of your senses and the ability to interact have simply vanished from your body. His gaze is…filthy, completely occupied by lust as it seems. You feel like your knees will give in any minute, heart almost pounding out of your chest while blood begins to pulsate between your legs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Are you fainting? What is this feeling?

“I’ll make you feel the way you deserve it”, Satoru rasps.

Before you can react, he lifts you in the air with ease and throws you on the soft bed in the middle of the room.

“S-satoru…I-I…never done this”, you repeat with choked voice, sweat dripping down your face while you desperately try to stop yourself from wincing.

God, he makes you feel so weak with the way his eyes hungrily linger over your body and seem to swallow you whole.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

And then it happens. His lips brush against yours. Slowly at first, almost sweetly. You close your eyes, hands automatically grabbing his strong biceps in a frantic attempt to get a hold of this situation. Is all of this a dream? Impossible. The way his arms are wrapped around you while his unmistakable scent fills the air around is way too real for that. Satoru picks up the pace, his tongue inviting itself into your mouth to get instantly into a tangled dance with yours. Fuck, this feels so good, almost like you’re on drugs – addicted to his touch and kisses.

“Satoru”, you literally moan into his parted lips.

You need to feel his body even closer, his touch a little rougher, his lips even better. You want more. No, you need more. More of the drug that only Satoru Gojo seems to be able to give you.

“I-I need more”, you stutter, eyes gleaming in pleasure.

“I would give you the world, (y/n). Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long…”

“How much I hate all of these fucking happy couples. Die! All of you, die!”

It’s like you get hit by a train when the distorted voice of a stranger fills the room with hatred and disgust. Satoru’s body blocks the view of the curse making its way through the ceiling at the speed of light. Automatically, you claw into his upper arms for hold.

“Took you quite some time to get here. I was almost afraid that you wouldn’t show up for our rendez-vous.”

“Would you mind letting me go for a second, darling?”, he words addressed to you.

Your hands let go of him immediately, body rolling to the other side of the bed in order to give Satoru the room he needs. The fight itself doesn’t take long. In fact, you aren’t even able to catch a glimpse at the curse before the room is lit up in purple, lilac glibber raining down on the bed with pieces of the ceiling, threatening to hit you right in your face. Pressing your eyes shut, you surrender to your fate. Not the first time you get covered in the remaining of some disgusting curse…

“Do you really think I’d let you get covered in this? You don’t know me well, darling.”

When you open your eyes again, you aren’t greeted by lilac glibber. In fact, it stopped right before hitting you with full force. You let out your breath you didn’t know you were holding, gaze finding Satoru’s bright blue orbs that seem to glitter.

“I’d say we smashed that mission”, he proudly announces, shaking the remaining of the ceiling and curse away from both of you while lifting himself off the bed.

You slowly get up from your trance, heart completely shattering at his words. You smashed the mission? Is this everything he is able to think about? Just seconds ago he laid on top of you, his tongue in your mouth while he told you over and over the finest things you ever heard from him. Everything nothing but…a lie? You want to get away from him as soon as possible, the pictures of him and you burn into your heart like a fuel rod. It was all just a game for him, a necessary price he had to pay to complete the mission.

“Thank god we did”, you hiss and abruptly jump out of bed, body swaying back and forth in dizziness.

Salty tears start to burn in your eyes, flooding over any second. No, don’t cry. What about your pride, how you always carried yourself with your head held high? A sob shakes your body before you can stop it. Fuck all of that. This hurts like hell.

“Hey, what is going on? Are you sad because I didn’t let you have your moment with that curse? Y’know, he was a pretty weak grade 1 any-“

“Is all of this a joke to you?”, you yell into his face, tears now running like a waterfall while your chest feels like it’s going to explode.

Satoru’s eyes widen in horror. Fuck, he never saw you like this. And the worst is that he seems to be the cause of your tears.

“You’re anything but a joke to me, (y/n)”, he replies dead serious.

“All the things you said were nothing but a big lie! All these kisses meant nothing to you!”, you cry out.

“(y/n)-“

“They did to me though. I never shared a bed with a man before, Satoru. It was special to me.”

Your voice sounds so defeated that Satoru instinctively gets up and walks towards you.

“But it was special to me too, (y/n)! It was always more than just pretending for me.”

“Stop kidding me. This pretending comes to an end right now. From now on, I’m not your fake girlfriend anymore.”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to say.”

You nod to yourself while his cruel words hit you like a wall all over again. So this is how it comes to an end. You always knew that sooner or later, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with the lies anymore. How were you supposed to build a future on top of a pile of foul lies? It was beneficial as long as it lasted. You shouldn’t have expected more from the start.

“I don’t want you to be my fake girlfriend anymore. Please, just make it real and official. I loved you this whole time (y/n). It always felt better to pretend than to potentially not having you at all. Today showed me that I can’t be without you, that I want to share a bed with you every night and not just for a mission. I’m beggin’ on my knees if I have to, please be my girlfriend.”

Time stands still, you are unable to move as your mind desperately tries to process what he just said. He want you to be his girlfriend…for real?

“Stop messing around with me, Gojo”, you warn him.

But a little voice inside you tells you that he isn’t lying, that his face tells nothing but the truth. Can it really be that the Gojo Satoru wants you to be his girlfriend? Your skin starts to prickle while your heartbeat picks up in an instant. Please let this be real…

“I’m not. I want to hold you like I did before that fucking curse appeared every hour of the day and not just when someone’s around, (y/n).”

“But…Why did you always break away from me when we were alone? You could have just told me, I-“

You stop. You did it just like him. Pretended that it’s nothing but a stupid joke to you, that Satoru didn’t mean more than a friend does. You told yourself over and over that your feelings aren’t real, that you are just a good actor. Oh, but it was so much more. It is so much more.

“I did the same”, you confess your thoughts to him.

“Please, (y/n). Let’s make it real, no pretending anymore. Be by my side.”

His hands gently cup your face while your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

“Nothing better than that”, you mutter before pressing your lips against his.

“You know, that bed is still looking good and we’ve booked for a night…”

“Let’s not waste the precious money of Jujutsu High, then”, you moan while he bites down your neck.

[ellieputellas]

puppy love | ona batlle x reader

headcanons — Ona Batlle as your first love You and Ona Batlle have been best friends since childhood, always knowing each other better than anyone else. But as the years pass, hidden feelings begin to surface, and what once felt like innocent puppy love starts to bloom into something more.

contains: 10k+ words, firstlove!Ona, artist!reader, fluff, childhood best friends, friends-to-lovers, longterm yearning, some angst... not too much i promise, occasional use of y/n, cursing masterlist | please do not repost or plagiarize this.

firstlove!Ona and you met when you were both 7 years old. She was a new student at your school. At first, she was quiet and reserved, which made you want to take her under your wing; something about her drew you in. So, you would hang out with her during recess and sit beside her during class. It took her some time to open up but you were determined to be her friend.

firstlove!Ona wasn’t sure what to think of you at first. She was used to being alone, content with her own company—until you came along, full of sunshine, with that gummy smile and endless yapping. You were the sunshine she needed in her life. She decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad having a friend.

firstlove!Ona admired everything about you. She loved how you always took charge of class activities, acted so mature and polite to your teachers, and did so well in art class, teaching her different coloring techniques. You were her idol, and she wasn’t shy about letting you know.

firstlove!Ona grew fiercely protective of you. You were sunshine and always full of smiles and giggles. You also loved dressing up to school, with big bows and multicolored clips all over your hair which, for some reason, meant all the lame, insecure boys in your school loved to pick on you. Ona decided that as long as she was around, no one would dull your sparkle.

firstlove!Ona kicked your bully in the nuts after he stole the new pretty, blue ribbon clips out of your hair, calling you lame and girly. He was older than Ona, taller than her too… but that didn’t stop her. She chased him to no end with the most frightening expression an eight-year-old could have.

You watched as the nine-year-old boy keeled over in pain as Ona stood close by, panting after she had run after him. The boy cried out as Ona smirked in satisfaction. "Don't ever mess with her again." She barked at him.

You rushed over to Ona. "Are you okay?" To which she just smiled at you genuinely and said, "Of course, I got your clips back."

firstlove!Ona would draw only two things in art class: you, or you and her together. The teacher would ask everyone to draw dinosaurs. She would draw you two as dinosaurs. Cat? You two riding a giant cat. Her family? Her family… with you inserted there somehow. A rainbow? You two underneath a rainbow.

firstlove!Ona didn't have a concept of a crush or romantic love back then. But all your teachers noticed just how much the little girl admired you.

firstlove!Ona would often insist that you play house with her. Your favorite part of playing house was cooking “food” with her, which was just the two of you mixing soap, coins, and loose beads in a large bowl. But, Ona’s favorite part of playing house was being the husband while you were the wife. She’d brush your hair and hold your hand because, to her, that’s what husbands did. And, whenever other kids tried to tell her that she couldn't be your husband because she was a girl, she'd threaten to kick their balls too.

firstlove!Ona loved your movie dates at her house, especially when you two watched Disney princess movies.

"Ona, you can be Princess Belle and I'll be Princess Ariel!" You said, playing pretend after watching Beauty and the Beast on one of your play dates. Ona frowned. "Ew, I don't want to be Belle!" You frowned back. "Why? She's so pretty, just like you!" You teased. "I don't want to marry a beast," She exclaimed. "And I don't want you to be Ariel 'cause that would mean you'll be a fish and I can't swim that well yet." You laughed. "Then what princesses do you want us to be, then?" "We should just be our own princesses with no fish and no beasts and no princes." She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and you looked at her like she was crazy. "No prince?" You frowned. "Can we be princesses with no prince?" "Yeah, duh! It's better to have no prince so we don't have to spend all our time kissing them and we can just play all day!" She exclaimed proudly.

firstlove!Ona was already very competitive at an early age. She was the best at playing tag in the playground, never letting anyone beat her. Well, except you. Even if you were almost twice as slow as she was, she would purposely slow down her pace just so you could catch up and tag her.

"It's so unfair when you two play." One of the kids in the playground said. "Ona always just lets you win." Ona frowned at her. "You're just bitter 'cause you run like a grandma." "Well, we still don't want you to join us anymore." The kid said, crossing her arms. "You're not our friend anymore." "Good! We'll go ahead and find friends who can run faster." Ona shouted.

firstlove!Ona loved to play football. She would move so well with the ball that the parents in the playground would think that she was older than she was. (You weren't as good as she was, but that was fine. You were more than happy being her cheerleader.)

firstlove!Ona hated it when the boys she played football with would say they had a crush on you. The more they said you were cute, the more she was determined to be better than them just so you would focus on only her and not on them.

firstlove!Ona's parents quickly realized how skilled she was in football and decided to enroll her in some basic classes near your school. She was excited but quickly got disappointed when she learned you weren't joining her.

"But why can't she join me?" One complained. Her parents sighed exasperatedly. "Ona, your best friend has other interests; you can't expect her to do everything you want to do." They tried to reason out to the eight-year-old. "And her mom already told me that she isn't interested in football." "But she likes being with me when I play football." She pouted. "She can just sit in the side of the field and watch me play." "Ona, her parents are not going to let her sit around all afternoon at the side of a field to watch you play. Besides, her mom said she's taking some art classes nearby so you can visit her after, okay?" Her mom explained to which Ona just scoffed.

firstlove!Ona started playing with local boy’s leagues in your town since there wasn't a local girl's team. She was starting to get more and more popular in school due to her football skills but she never wanted to hang out with anyone else except you.

firstlove!Ona secretly hated your new friends from art class. She hated how you had inside jokes that she never understood. She hated how you had matchy bracelets with some stupid girl named Carla. She hated how she saw Carla brushing your hair after your art class. She basically hated Carla ever since Carla bid you goodbye with a "Bye, Bestie!" which was off-limits to her. She was your best friend, not this stupid girl.

firstlove!Ona tolerated your art friends just so she could be around you. All the other girls tried to be nice to Ona too but they always did think she was kinda gross for always being covered in grass and mud, and that she was too clingy and possessive of you.

firstlove!Ona was invited to her first group sleepover for your ninth birthday. She hated it; it felt like your art friends were suddenly invading activities you used to do only with each other but since you liked them, she was forced to suck it up. They made you happy, at least.

"Let's play Truth or Dare!" Carla exclaimed. "I'll spin this bottle and if it lands on you, you choose truth or dare." All the girls chuckled and yelped, making Ona roll her eyes. She hated how shrill and loud your friends were. Much to Ona's surprise, the bottle spun to face her. She groaned, unwilling to play with her clueless nemesis Carla. "Truth, I guess." The girls all thought of their question. Your other friend Julia finally asked. "Who is your crush?" Ona looked confused. "My crush?" Julia nodded. "Crush means someone you like." “Oh yeah, I forgot what it meant.” Ona just shrugged. "I guess, then it's Y/N." The girls laughed as you awkwardly looked away from Ona, feeling a little bit shy and embarrassed. You didn't know why but her answer made you a bit flustered. Ona looked confused. "Why are you laughing?" "Crush means like-like, silly. Like someone you wanna marry or someone you wanna kiss." Carla explained. “Not just your best friend.” "Oh," Ona frowned. "Then it's still Y/N." The girls laughed again and you hid your face in your hands as you grew red at your best friend's answer. "It has to be a boy, Ona! You can't have a crush on a girl." Carla exclaimed, still chuckling. The other girls laughed, thinking Ona was stupid. But Ona genuinely met what she was saying. Ona gave her a stank face. "Then I don't have one, I guess."

firstlove!Ona felt shy after the whole Truth or Dare game. She decided to stay silent for the rest of the night, conscious of what she said around your friends. They already looked at her weirdly whenever she hung out with you after your art class with her muddy boots and grass-stained shorts. She didn't like how she felt like she had given them another reason to find her weird.

firstlove!Ona also felt shy about her gift after she had seen all of the drawings and friendship bracelets your friend had made for you. All she was able to prepare was a letter about how much she loved being your friend even if you liked drawing and she liked football. She tried to make it fancy with glitter and stickers but compared to your friend's gifts, it looked so messy.

"Ona, are you still awake?" You asked as you saw the girl standing by her overnight bag instead of beside you and the other girls, who were already drifting to sleep. You walked over to her to see the letter with purple glitter and Hello Kitty stickers all over it. "What's that?" Ona looked down shyly at it. "It's my gift... but I don't know if I want to give it to you. It's so ugly." You frowned. "No, it's not." You pouted. "Well, it's my birthday and you have to obey everything I tell you to do and I want you to give me your gift." Ona hesitated but decided that she wasn't one to go above birthday law so she handed it over. She watched you genuinely smile as she read your letter. It made her feel less insecure about it. You smiled at her, holding the letter to your heart, not caring about the glitter getting on your favorite unicorn pajamas. "Ona, this is my favorite gift ever." Ona beamed in joy. "Really?" "Well, duh! It's so sweet and I like the Hello Kitty stickers, especially this one where she has flowers." You pointed it out. You paused before continuing. "Also, I'm sorry my friends laughed when you said I was your crush. Honestly, I think you're my crush too." Ona felt her face get warm as you said it. "Oh... that's nice." She smiled. "Does that mean you're my girlfriend?" You thought about it, not sure exactly how it would work out. You’ve only heard about girlfriends and crushes from TV shows, and you've only ever seen girlfriends with boyfriends. "Is that allowed?" Ona frowned. "Why would it not be allowed?" You shrugged. You couldn't argue with that top-tier argument. "Okay, I can be your girlfriend."

firstlove!Ona went home after that sleepover, beaming to her parents that you were her girlfriend. Her mom tried to ask if she meant “girl-SPACE-friend” but Ona got mad, insisting that she actually meant girlfriend with no space and that you were going to get married.

firstlove!Ona grew fond of kissing your cheek and holding your hand. She was too giddy over the fact that you were her girlfriend. Even if she had no clue exactly how girlfriends worked, she was just happy because that meant you liked her more than you liked Carla, which was more than enough for her.

firstlove!Ona frowned when you tried to tell her that your parents said you were too young to be girlfriends and to understand what a relationship was.

“That’s stupid,” Ona complained. “We watched Hannah Montana. We saw her have a relationship. We totally get it!” You sighed, shaking your head in disapproval. “Yeah… but my mom said I have to wait until I’m in high school before I even think about dating.” “Fine, just as long as I’ll be your bestest friend, over anyone else.” She pouted, making you promise.

firstlove!Ona was getting so much attention for her football skills. By the time you were 10, there was not a single person in her age group in your town — boys and girls — that was on her level. It didn’t take long until everyone was talking about the tiny girl who played like a beast.

firstlove!Ona learned about different celebrations she could do online. She thought of which creative one she could do just in case she gets a goal. While watching a teen movie, she saw some guy playing basketball wink and blow a kiss at a girl he liked. Ona somehow decided that that was the coolest thing to do. So, she started being greedy with the ball and the goals, just so she could do her little loser-ish celebration and blow you a kiss.

firstlove!Ona naturally caught the attention of La Masia scouts. They would watch her games, taking several notes. Suddenly, football got serious for Ona. She would start training more and there was more pressure for her to perform well. It was more than the twelve-year-old girl could handle.

“What if I just give up?” Ona’s voice was barely a whisper, muffled by the blankets you both huddled under. Her words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and uncertain. You moved closer to her in the bed, resting on your side so that you would be facing her. Ona was resting on her back with her arm resting on her forehead. “I’m scared... I’m scared I’ll disappoint everyone, even if I train all day and barely get any rest. It feels like I’m not enough. Maybe this isn’t meant for me.” You frowned, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. This wasn’t the Ona you knew; the Ona you knew never doubted herself and was confident almost to the point of cockiness. All the pressure seemed to be getting to her. “Quitting… but you love football? How can you possibly give up on it when you love it more than you love me?” You joked to lighten up the mood but Ona took it seriously and lightly smacked you as if to reprimand you. Ona turned on her side to face you and now you were both face-to-face. “But now… I don’t know. It feels like I’m not enjoying it anymore. I feel insecure.” Her voice shook a bit. It was hard seeing Ona like this. You had never seen her so… small. It was weird because Ona’s energy and passion was never small. Not even quiet, seven-year-old Ona acted like this. It hurt seeing your best friend struggle with something that she did so well. You reached over to gently touch her face. “Ona…” You started. “I know it’s hard… but everyone just has their eyes on you right now because of how good you are. These scouts and coaches from all over… they’re here because you are worth it. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t believe in you.” ”And… even if they don’t pick you or even if you do decide to quit, I will be there. I’ll still be your number one cheerleader — on and off the pitch.” You smiled at her. “I’m here for you, no matter what.” And for the first time that evening, Ona gave you a small smile. It wasn’t the usual huge grin that was accompanied by a sparkle in her eyes, but it was something. And that was enough.

firstlove!Ona did the best she could in her next games and it showed. She was dynamite on that pitch and everyone just knew then that her future was secured.

firstlove!Ona started training in La Masia just before you two entered high school. She was still studying at your school but she was taking fewer classes and doing more training, which she didn’t mind. She was learning so much and improving exponentially, completely thriving on the pitch. Off the pitch, she was also doing pretty well. She made a bunch of friends from La Masia who she would enthusiastically tell you about whenever you got time together. The only thing Ona hated about being in La Masia was that so much of her life was now occupied by football. She'd wake up early to train, then it was class, then it was more training. She barely got time to be around you.

firstlove!Ona was so busy that she was one of the last people in sophomore year to find out about Pascual.

"Who the fuck is Pascual?" Ona asked your mutual classmate and friend, Julia. "Where did she meet him?" Julia rolled her eyes, realizing quickly that Ona had been busy for a while. "He's our classmate, Ona." She answered. "He's been our classmate since we were 10." Ona frowned. She never paid attention to the other people in class that much. She spent most of her time with you, after all. So, naturally, this Pascual guy was never on her radar. "And now what is it that I'm hearing that he's pursuing her? Who does he think he is?" Ona said loudly, not giving a fuck if anyone in the school hallway could hear. “Bet he’s like some lazy dumbass, just like everyone who has a crush on her.” "He's actually really nice and pretty smart. I know he even volunteers…” Julia went on and on talking about Pascual, seeming to approve of the guy for you. Julia noticed Ona clenching her jaw and frowning, causing her to roll her eyes. “He’s actually great, Ona. You're just too in love with your best friend for you to see that." Ona didn’t bother denying. She just rolled her eyes.

firstlove!Ona always knew she enjoyed being close to you, relishing the time spent together. She always knew she loved you… a lot… as a friend. But when the whole Pascual situation came to light, something shifted in her. She started to see you in a new light. Thoughts of you consumed her more and more, and with them came feelings she hadn’t anticipated—jealousy, possessiveness, clinginess. It was as though her obsession with you, something she’d always brushed off as just what best friends felt, was now much more intense, more undeniable. What once felt natural, and familiar, had become charged with a different kind of energy. It just felt… different.

Ona and you sat side by side, eyes glued to the screen as you both watched the new MTV show your friend had recommended. Ona shifted uncomfortably, clearly awkward about watching a show centered on two childhood best friends who’d started dating, especially with everything running through her mind lately. “Karma’s kinda annoying, not gonna lie,” you said, crunching on a chip. “Like, Amy’s so obviously in love with her, and Karma still doesn’t get it. How can she be that oblivious?” Ona’s gaze flickered toward you for a moment. She bit her lip, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah… so clueless.”

Later that night, Ona and you lay cuddled up in bed, updating each other about each other’s lives. You’d both been pulled in different directions by your hectic schedules, but you always made the most of the time you had together, finding ways to stay close even when things got busy. “And, my friend invited me to volunteer as an art teacher at the orphanage where he volunteers at. So, I might try to do that soon.” You shared, humming thoughtfully. “I’m thinking of doing it soon. He said I’d be really good with the kids.” The words hung in the air, and Ona’s mind immediately went to what Julia had said about Pascual. So, is she hanging out with this guy? Does she like him? “Hmm? Which friend?” Ona asked as she knitted her eyebrows together as she tried to keep her voice casual. You noticed the change in her expression immediately. You two had been friends for so long that you could always tell when something was on her mind. “Pascual, from class,” you replied, keeping your tone light. “You should come too, teach football and stuff. The kids would love it.” Ona nodded, but her gaze remained distant, still thinking about that Pascual guy. You chuckled to lighten the mood before reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m sure the kids would love to be around a future football star.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled, all thoughts of Pascual fading away. “You think too highly of me.” She responded, trying to play it cool but the pink on her cheeks gave her away. “But sure… I’d love to volunteer.” ”Look at us both, a couple of philanthropists.” You joked. “Who would have thought the same Ona that kicked kids in the nutsack would be volunteering?” Ona smiled and sighed. “You know, I have this new friend from La Masia who would be so into volunteering too.” She brought up thoughtfully. “Maybe I should invite her to join us.” “Ooh, is she the girl you said who plays really well?” You asked and Ona’s eyes sparkled. Ona nodded. “Aitana’s like next level on the pitch. She literally plays like Iniesta,” She gushed. “And even outside the sport, she’s so amazing. She’s, like, their class top student and she reads so many books…” You hummed, thinking about how Ona used to gush about you like that before. Now, it was some girl named Aitana. So, now, it was your turn to be jealous.

You lay on your side with your back turned to Ona, trying to drift to sleep. But no matter how much you closed your eyes, your mind was still buzzing with thoughts: the show you’d watched, the conversation about volunteering, the conversation about Ona’s new idol from La Masia, and just... everything. You haven’t done a sleepover with Ona in a while and all these thoughts paired with her proximity were just making your hormones go haywire for no reason. “You awake?” You turned around, surprised to find Ona’s eyes wide open, staring up at the ceiling. She looked over at you, her expression soft but thoughtful. You gave her a small smile. “Yeah…” She hummed, eyes flickering in consideration before she finally spoke. “How about you cuddle up to me? You always said my warmth makes you feel drowsy.” She offered nervously. “I could use some of your warmth too.” Her offer was light and casual but Ona was actually feeling nervous as she said it. Ona’s arms had been craving your presence ever since she got to your house but she was afraid it would be too awkward to just hug you or cuddle with you. She knew she was being ridiculous because you two used to literally live in each other’s hugs. Lately, though, everything felt different. The emotions and feelings swirling inside her were more intense and mixed with the strange rush of puberty, it made her feel shy and unsure. But she still couldn’t resist it; she missed having you pressed against her. You nodded, beaming. “I’d love that.” You shifted closer, resting your head against her chest. Ona wrapped her arm around you, pulling you in, and you instinctively placed your hand on her stomach. It was a simple gesture, but it made her acutely aware of the connection between you both—each touch felt loaded with meaning.  Once she had gained enough confidence, she started brushing your hair with her hand, her gentle fingers soft against your scalp. “Remember when we used to be girlfriends…” She asked with a light tone. “We had no clue what we were talking about but I genuinely was so into it.” You laughed at that childhood memory. “Yeah, my mom was so confused when I told her.” You recalled. “She really had to sit me down and explain what the difference between girl friends and girlfriends was.” Ona chuckled at that, the sound warm and relaxed, but then fell quiet for a moment. You could feel her hesitating like she was choosing her words carefully. “Do you think you’d ever have a relationship? Like, with a boyfriend or... a girlfriend?” She asked it so casually, but you could sense the weight behind her question. Especially with the way her voice trailed off towards the end. You’d never really talked about your sexualities, and the last time crush you had, as far as Ona remembered, was on the lion from Lion King from when you were both seven. So, it always left her curious but afraid of asking you about it… afraid that it would make her have to talk about her own sexuality which she never really wanted to think about. ”Hmm, I don’t know. There isn’t really anyone I like.” You responded vaguely. “Why? Do you like someone?” You waited with bated breath. You didn’t know for sure what you wanted to hear but it still made you anxious. Unbeknownst to you, Ona was sharing the same nervous feeling that you felt. She wondered if you could hear her heartbeat against her chest. “Uh…” She started, her voice faltering. “No one.” She sounded unconvincing which you took note of but you didn’t push any further. Huh, could it be that Aitana girl? “But I’m glad you’re my first relationship, even if it wasn’t a real one,” Ona said, going back to your conversation about your childhood memory. “That just means whoever comes next is still the second.” You rolled your eyes, the slight jealousy you felt fizzling out. She was the same, old possessive best friend you had, and somehow, that brought you comfort.

firstlove!Ona felt annoyed whenever she would see you with Pascual. She hasn’t felt that jealous and possessive over you since Carla from your art school. It was obvious to everyone how much Ona hated Pascual, bullying him for seemingly no reason. Well, obvious to everyone but you.

Ona seethed when she saw you sitting with him during lunch. Without a second thought, she stormed over to your table, where you were laughing with Pascual and the rest of your friends. Ignoring everyone, she fixed her gaze on him, her jaw clenched. She tilted her head slightly to the side, gesturing for him to move, as if the space beside you was her birthright. “Move,” She ordered in a low voice. “That’s my seat.” Pascual was used to Ona’s possessiveness. He knew how clingy she could be, and to be honest, he never minded when she wasn’t around—because that meant more time to get to know you. But when Ona was around, he knew he would not have the opportunity to get a word in without Ona basically glaring daggers at him. He sighed, trying to keep his cool. “I got here first.” “Tell it to someone who cares,” Ona shot back. Pascual muttered under his breath, but he gave in, scooting over to the other side of the table with a resigned sigh. Meanwhile, you were oblivious to the silent war playing out just inches away. You smiled at Ona, wrapping your arms around her in a warm hug. “Ona, I missed you,” you murmured, completely unaware of the charged atmosphere. Ona, however, didn’t take her eyes off Pascual. Her lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smirk as she raised her eyebrows, silently daring him to say something. It was clear she wasn’t just competing for a seat.

On another occasion, Ona leaned uncomfortably close to Pascual as he tried to focus on drawing you. Pascual automatically stiffened up to Ona hovering around him again. She was always like this whenever she was around — too intrusive, too intimidating, too there. What made it worse was that Ona had just come from training, her freshly showered hair still damp, and the droplets were slowly dripping onto Pascual and his sketchbook. Each drop seemed to drive him a little mad, the cold wetness only adding to his growing irritation. Pascual looked up at Ona and gave her an incredulous look. “What, Ona?” “Huh,” Ona said, eyeing the drawing with exaggerated curiosity. “Who is that supposed to be?” Pascual sighed, exasperatedly as he pointed at you who was sitting across the table too focused on your own drawing. “Isn’t it obvious?” Ona huffed, pretending to think. The drawing was pretty decent — better than she could ever do — but she was never going to let him know that. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at the sketch and loudly asked. “Why’d you give her a fivehead? You hate her or something?” You looked up curiously, previously oblivious to the exchange. Ona was giving you an innocent smile while Pascual was trying hard not to snap at your best friend as he muttered. “It’s just the angle.”

The poor guy liked you so much, even though you were completely oblivious to his advances. And despite your best friend making his life a living hell at every opportunity, he still tried—harder than anyone could’ve expected. Ona skipped obnoxiously to where you were sitting in the front of the class, beside Pascual. It didn’t help that he always ended up next to you. That was another reason Ona couldn’t stand him. She was always a little late to class because of her training, so the seats were usually already taken by the time she arrived. And today, of course, you were stuck with him. “Congrats on getting the best grade!” Ona chirped, throwing her arm around your shoulders before plopping herself down in your lap. "You're so smart. I’m so proud to be your best friend.” Pascual couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her usual attempt to rattle him. He was used to it by now, but that didn’t make it any easier. Ona caught the eye roll, and a mischievous spark lit up in her eyes. She glimpsed at the paper on his table, snatching it without his permission. "Huh," she said, examining the grade with exaggerated interest, "87... that's nothing compared to my best friend’s 95." She flashed a knowing smile at him. "Guess she’s too smart for you, huh?" Pascual frowned but grew flustered by the comment. “I distributed the papers and saw you got an 83 so…” He wanted to snap back but it came out softer and meeker than he intended. Ona just smirked, taunting him. “And what about it?” Pascual opened his mouth, ready to fire back, but stopped himself. He could’ve said something—he could’ve retorted—but he didn’t. Instead, he looked at you, your smile more than enough to make him swallow his pride. He knew better than to engage in one of Ona’s little mind games, especially when she was already enjoying herself. He had been working so hard on making his slow courtship of you for a year and there was no way he was going to blow it now.

firstlove!Ona was pretty content with how clueless you were with Pascual. At first, it did anger her whenever he was around, always so desperate for your attention. But now, it brought her happiness whenever she’d go to you and he was around because that meant it was another opportunity to embarrass him in front of you. Although, you never really minded their interactions, chalking it up to just banter, even going as far as to cluelessly think they were starting to be friends.

firstlove!Ona was practically seething when she got to school and saw Pascual hovering over your locker, presenting you with a red rose. She looked at your face with your doe-eyed expression and your cheeks flushed, shocked by a friend’s sudden confession. Ona had to take herself out of the scene, knowing she would react badly if she let herself watch it unfold.

firstlove!Ona finally stopped running from her thoughts, forcing herself to confront the feelings she’d been denying for so long. She’d always laughed off the jokes about her being in love with you. She never really thought too much about it, chalking it up to just banter. But now, seeing the way he looked at you—seeing how she felt when he did—it hit her harder than she expected. She wasn’t just annoyed that some guy liked you. She was hurt. And it wasn’t just about friendship jealousy—it was something deeper, something that made her feel exposed, vulnerable, like a part of her she’d never wanted to face was staring back at her, undeniable.

firstlove!Ona decided that tormenting the guy who liked you wasn’t going to be enough. This time, she actually wanted to show you that she could be better was better than him. She wanted to splurge on a bouquet of flowers but she had already blown her allowance on new football socks. So, instead, she hopped the neighbor's fence just to pick flowers from their large garden. She could get in trouble but she didn't care. She wanted to give you a bouquet of flowers that would put Pascual’s rose to shame.

The first thing you noticed when Ona came over to your house for your study date was the beautiful array of flowers she had tied together with a ribbon. You gushed at the different flowers — lavenders, marigolds, poppies. They were so stunning. “W-what? These are so stunning! What is this for?” She'd smirk and shrug, nonchalantly as she unconsciously tried to hide the scratch on her arm she got from scraping it on the fence after the neighbor's dog chased her out of the garden. “Just wanted to show my appreciation for you.” The blush on your cheeks grew and you quickly turned around to hide it from Ona. “Let me put this in a vase. Hold on.” You said as you scurried. Ona casually followed you to the kitchen, looking around your house to see if you had a rose displayed anywhere. “So, I heard Pascual gave you a rose the other day.” You paused, feeling odd that she was suddenly bringing it up after she had brought you a bouquet. “Yeah, it was weird.” You said, shivering from the recollection of the awkward interaction.” She practically beamed at your response. “Yeah?” “Yeah, I had no clue he liked me. I genuinely thought he was just around me because he was sad and had no friends.” You responded honestly as you filled a vase with water. “I had to give the rose to Julia just cause I felt weird bringing it home with me.” You sighed. “Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about it. I just feel bad for the poor guy but also… grossed out, y’know.” You said frankly. Ona couldn’t hide her smile, shaking her head. She couldn’t believe how clueless you were with him but she was still happy now that she knew Pascual was finally out of the picture.

firstlove!Ona moved out of your school during your junior year, a decision driven by her desire to focus more on her football career. She was fully immersed in the La Masia system now—training with some of the best, living and breathing the game. At first, it felt like a punch to the gut, not seeing your best friend every day. But you quickly realized it wasn’t all bad. If anything, it meant Ona was on the rise, becoming a bigger deal with each passing day, and that was something to be proud of. Besides, no matter how packed her schedule was, Ona always made time for you. The moment her training sessions ended, she’d sprint to your school, barely taking a breath. firstlove!Ona was slowly becoming a football celebrity in your community. Now, whenever she’d visit school, there were people always hovering around you to get a glimpse of the U17 Spain player. It made you proud. But… you didn’t like how girls were always fawning over her. They would be running to you in school, asking you if Ona was single. Whenever you two were out, there was always someone making eyes at your best friend. It was amusing, at first. Then it got repetitive and annoying, always leaving you feeling uneasy.

“Hi, Ona. My friend is, like, a really big fan.” A girl said to Ona, completely not even acknowledging your presence. She pointed back to their table across the restaurant where a bunch of other girls were giggling. “She was wondering if she could ask for your number.” Ona looked over to the table and saw a pretty girl with long brown hair waving back at her. It was undeniable she was stunning but Ona just... wasn’t that interested. She was here to have dinner with you after all. And to her, there wasn't anyone else more stunning than you. Ona shot a look at you, gauging your reaction. But to you, it read differently. You thought Ona didn’t want to give her number out because you were there. You shrugged awkwardly at her. “Go ahead, Ona. She looks cute.” Ona awkwardly chuckled, not sure how to feel about it. She was honestly kind of disappointed that you even encouraged her to do it. “Oh, uh okay…” She said, causing the girl to smile widely and jump up. You looked down at your salad bowl, suddenly losing interest. "Here, I'll write it down and tell her to text me that she's the girl from the restaurant or whatever."

Ona was driving you home after the dinner. After she gave out her number, you grew quiet, not wanting to talk much about anything anymore. She was confused as to why you were suddenly acting out when you didn’t seem to be affected by it initially. Could she be jealous? Ona looked over to you. You were staring out of the window, silent. But, why would she be jealous? “So…” Ona said cautiously, drumming her fingers on the driver’s wheel. “I assume the salad was bad?” You just hummed out a response, not even bothering to look at her. You sighed. “You should have just let me go ahead,” You said, shifting awkwardly in your seat. "I told you I could have just taken the bus." She frowned. “Why would I let you take the bus?” ”You could have stayed and chatted with those girls.” You muttered under your breath. “That would have made them real happy." To your shock, Ona chuckled. You turned to her and saw the expression on her face. She looked amused. You looked at her questioningly and she just shook her head, smiling. “What?” “Nothing,” She smiled, locking eyes with you. “You’re just being cute right now." You blushed and looked away, feeling your heart thump faster at how she looked at you. Ona chuckled at your reaction and said. "Glad to know I'm not the only jealous, possessive one..." And just like that, you knew that she knew.

firstlove!Ona knew at that moment that you shared the same attraction she had for you. She didn’t know how serious it was on your end but it was just satisfying to know that her feelings (or at least, her attraction) were somehow reciprocated. A year ago, she had finally come to terms with the truth: she had a crush on you. At first, the idea of being in love with her best friend had felt confusing, almost impossible to process. But over time, she stopped fighting it. She had always loved you and that never seemed to get in the way. Why should it now? firstlove!Ona was just pissed off that you have avoided her ever since that night in the car. She didn’t say anything other than you were cute for being jealous but the feeling of being caught was too much for you to confront; you hadn’t even fully accepted the fact that you were down bad for your best friend and she was already figuring out?!

Julia laughed as you told her the story about that night, clearly amused by your confusion. You hadn’t known who else to turn to; you figured your mutual friend of nearly a decade might have some valuable insight. She shook her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, we all saw this coming. Honestly, I’m surprised it took you two a decade to figure it out.” She shared. “I was going to push your heads together if it took any longer.” You groaned, frustration creeping into your voice. “What does that even mean? How could you know when I’m not even sure myself if I have a crush on Ona, or if it’s just some weird version of best friend clinginess?” Your friend raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the bed’s headboard. “Did you feel this way about me when I had to spend a semester in Granada with my grandmother?” She challenged your theory. “And were you suddenly jealous when I came back and started dating Carla?” You paused. “No…” “Then obviously, it isn’t just some sort of friendship clinginess.” Your friend explained it to you. “I’ve known you two since we were children and I genuinely think I learned the concept of crushes because of you and Ona.” “What do you mean?” You asked, falling backward on your bed and covering your head with a pillow. Julia’s voice softened, but there was a certain conviction in it. “Ona practically walked around with heart eyes for you. And you—well, you ignored every boy who liked you. You just wanted to be around Ona. All the time.” She smirked, though there was a hint of exasperation in her tone. She reached over to grab the pillow off your head to stare you down, making sure every point she said was heard. “I seriously reached a point where I was fed up with you two. It felt like I was third-wheeling 24/7.” You knit your eyebrows together as you listened to your friend. “But what do I do now? I obviously can’t go to my best friend and tell her I like her? I don’t even know that for sure.” ”Look,” Julia said, looking you straight in the eyes. “You have to realize that there has to be a reason that, after all these years, after all of the boys who courted you, you never seemed interested in any of them. You always just wanted to be around Ona. All the time” You fell quiet, thinking it over. Everything she was saying was true. You never had a crush in your life. You never showed interest in anyone. Whenever someone asked where you’d see yourself years from now, you often would mention still being best friends with Ona. It had to mean something. Julia squeezed your hands gently, her voice earnest. “There’s a reason for that, you know?” You stayed silent for a while before sighing. “But… what if I’m wrong? What if I tell her I like her, and it turns out it’s just some kind of puppy love? What if I lead her on?” Julia sighed, the sound filled with both frustration and understanding. She took your hands in hers, her grip firm. “It would break Ona’s heart, yeah. But honestly…” She paused, looking you dead in the eye. “I think Ona’s always been preparing for that possibility. She knows what’s at stake, and she’d rather give it a chance than keep guessing. I’m sure she doesn’t want to spend another 17 years second-guessing herself.” Your heart ached at the thought of breaking Ona’s heart, but Julia’s words carried a certain truth that you couldn’t ignore. Judging by Julia’s statements, Ona had more to lose in this; you could easily break her heart. But that didn’t mean it was exactly riskless for you. Julia’s gaze softened. “You owe it to both of you to take the chance. You need to allow Ona to love you without that barrier of friendship between you two. If it doesn’t work out, at least you tried, right?” You nodded, making it a silent promise to yourself that you would take your emotions seriously and that you would be honest with Ona once you got the chance. You looked up at your friend. “Julia, promise not to tell her... while I'm not ready yet, at least?" "Ugh, fine but if you two get married, I get to tell everyone how dumb you two were," Julia said with an eye roll.

firstlove!Ona was clueless about your emotions, second-guessing herself after the whole interaction. Did she make a mistake in thinking you were interested in her? Did she completely fumble the bag? She had no clue how to go about it until she realized she could bait you into revealing yourself. firstlove!Ona started sharing more and more photos of her and Aitana, trying to see how you would react. She would post photos of them in training, eating ice cream after school, hugging each other after a game. She’d try so hard to get a reaction but you never seemed to mind. In fact, it felt like you were back to your clueless self, oblivious to what she was trying to do. It was obvious to everyone just what Ona was trying to do, even Aitana called her out on it, saying she was done with being used as bait for her crush. It probably would have worked for someone who wasn’t you. firstlove!Ona didn’t know that it was working but not in the way she wanted to. You did get jealous but instead of thinking that Ona was trying to make you jealous, you thought that she was moving on. You thought she had finally found someone who liked her and wasn’t afraid to admit it just at the very moment that you were gearing up to confess. You started avoiding her, restricting her from all your social media just so that you would see less of her with her new crush. You decided that you would only reach out once you’re ready to talk it out with her. But for now, you had to shut her out. firstlove!Ona got an angry call from Julia as soon as she woke up, one random day.

“Are you and Y/N seriously still not talking?” Julia’s voice blared through the phone, loud enough to make Ona wince. Ona blinked away the sleepiness, squinting at the clock beside her bed. “Julia, it’s three in the morning,” she groaned, rolling over and burying her face in her pillow. “I’ve got training in two hours. Couldn’t this have waited?” Julia groaned back. “Do you even remember what day it is today?” Ona blinked, trying to shake off the fog in her mind. “Uh… Tuesday?” ”ONA BATLLE, IT’S YOUR FRIENDSHIP ANNIVERSARY.” The frustrated girl shouted over the phone, causing Ona’s phone speaker to crackle at the volume. “And you two haven’t said a word to each other in A MONTH!” Ona winced, groaning into the phone. “Great. Thanks for the reminder.” She let out a long sigh, dragging herself upright. “But, how is it exactly my fault? She’s the one who has been dodging my calls? Why should I try to make the first move in greeting her when she hasn’t even reached out to me at all?” Ona rubbed her forehead in frustration, trying to calm herself down. Once she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more defeated. “I’ve tried, Julia. I’ve been trying for years. But… I’m tired now.” “I’m just… trying to adjust with being okay with being just friends again.” Ona continued silently. “I can’t chase after nothing forever, Julia. I don’t have it in me anymore. It’s been ten years. I can’t keep chasing after her anymore. At some point, I have to stop.” Another long pause. Ona thought maybe Julia had hung up, but then, her friend spoke again—quiet, almost reluctant. “I promised not to say anything but obviously, I was stupid for promising that.” Julia muttered, the words heavy with something Ona couldn’t quite place. “But… it’s not nothing, Ona.” Ona furrowed her brows, feeling a pang of confusion. “What are you talking about?” Julia groaned, exasperated. “Ugh, I’m done dealing with both of your oblivious and mopey asses. I’ve done my part and it’s too much already. You two figure it out yourselves.” Before Ona could respond, the line went dead. Julia had hung up.

firstlove!Ona couldn’t get Julia’s words out of her head. It’s not nothing. She had no fucking clue what Julia meant exactly but there was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder if that meant that you… No, we’re not going through another round of what-ifs, Ona. She said to herself. Focus on training now and berate Julia to be more clear later.

firstlove!Ona couldn’t keep herself focused no matter what. In the morning, she practically missed every instruction her coach said. In class, she spaced out during Spanish lessons that she hadn’t noticed the teacher was already growing red in the face, trying to catch her attention, until Aitana basically kicked the back of her seat. It was so bad that her coach sent her home, refusing to include her in afternoon training until she sorted herself out.

firstlove!Ona headed home that day, feeling defeated. She thought about you the entire day but still couldn’t come to a conclusion as to what Julia meant, and what she wanted to do with your relationship now. Sure, what Julia said gave her hope but that quickly fizzled out every time she would check her phone and there was not a single notification from you. She obviously was misreading the situation yet again. Was this the end of the line for the two of you?

firstlove!Ona stormed into her house, practically stomping in frustration.

“Ona?” Her mother called from the living room as Ona slammed the door behind her. “Why are you home so early?” Ona sighed, already feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her. “Coach sent me home,” she muttered, not bothering with any excuses. “Didn’t do well in training. Couldn’t concentrate.” Her mom looked at her sympathetically. “Aw, my baby.” She started toward Ona, arms open for a hug, but Ona remained rooted to the spot. “Does this have anything to do with—” ”Let’s not talk about her right now, please.” She cut in, her voice low but firm. Her mom pouted, looking at her daughter with careful eyes.“You two are best friends. It’s really sad that you’re not talking anymore, especially when I practically raised her like my own.” She smiled wistfully. “I even know what kind of juice she likes and doesn’t like.” Ona winced at the memories. “I… I don’t wanna think about her for now.” She said with a strained voice. There was a long pause as her mom considered her words. Then, after a beat of awkward silence, she hesitated before speaking again. “Hmmm, well, then you might not want to go upstairs to your room.” Ona’s eyes widened. “Mom… what did you…” Her mother’s eyes softened, but there was a hint of guilt there. “If you don’t want to talk to her right now, I can just send her home, sweetheart.” She offered gently, but her voice carried a subtle note of apology. Ona groaned, rubbing her face with both hands. The last thing she wanted was to confront this right now, but she knew she couldn’t keep avoiding it. She needed to face the situation head-on. “No, it’s fine,” she said, her voice quieter now, resigned. “I’ll… talk to her.” Her mother nodded, her face filled with understanding. “You know I’m here if you need me.” She gave her daughter a soft smile before walking away. Ona stood there for a moment, collecting herself, steeling her nerves for what was coming. She wasn’t ready, but maybe she never would be. She still had to face the situation eventually. Might as well get it over and done with.

firstlove!Ona didn't know how to talk to you. She didn't know how to face you after you two haven't talked in a month, which was basically centuries in best friend time. She didn't know how you'd react to seeing her again. Were you pissed off? Sad? She sighed, knowing she wouldn't find out until she opened that door.

The door creaked open and you nearly jumped off of the edge of Ona's bed. You waited with bated breath for her to enter, feeling yourself grow anxious. You finally see her. You didn't know why but you expected her to look different even if it had only been just a month; she still looked like the same Ona you knew, except maybe a bit tanner. You cleared your throat, feeling uneasy as she entered, closing the door behind her. "Hey…" You said with a soft voice. Ona leaned her back against the door, crossing her arms across her chest. "Hey." She responded with a cold voice, avoiding eye contact. You bit your lip, hesitant about what to say. "I haven't seen you in a while…" You started. "Julia told me you were doing even more training since you're gearing up for some big game." Ona just nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. Again, you two fell silent, filling the room with words left unsaid. "Ona…" You started again, choosing your words carefully. "I'm really sorry I haven't reached out in a month. I really should have said something instead of just disappearing on you." Still, she didn’t respond. You exhaled shakily and pressed on. “I just… I didn’t know what to do.” Ona’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, but her eyes remained distant. “That night we had dinner…” you hesitated. “Even before that, I’d already been feeling weird... no, not just weird... insecure.” Her gaze finally lifted, confusion evident. “Why?” You rubbed your arm nervously, your words faltering. “I felt like we were drifting apart. You were spending so much time away from me, and then… then you were giving girls your number.” You paused, your throat tightening suddenly. “I know it sounds stupid, but I felt upset. I thought maybe you were going to forget about me when you got famous or that we wouldn't be friends anymore.” Ona’s jaw tightened, and she muttered under her breath, “Bullshit.” “What?” you asked, blinking in surprise. “You can’t even tell me what you’re really feeling,” Ona said, shaking her head. “Besides, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal that I gave someone my number. You told me to do it. And then, when I realized and pointed out that you weren't being genuine about wanting me to give my number, somehow I became the bad guy.” You sighed, feeling the guilt twist in your chest. “I wasn’t upset with you.” “Then why?” She looked at you with an almost pleading look. “I was upset with myself,” you admitted. The words felt heavy. “I hated how I reacted, how I got upset that you had realized what I was feeling... and I hated that I didn’t understand why I did react like that.” Ona tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “And why did you?” You hesitated, biting your lip. Then, softly, you confessed, “I was jealous. I didn’t even know why at first… I just was.” Her expression shifted, cautious but curious. “And it wasn’t just that,” you continued. “I felt the same way whenever you talked about Aitana. I know how ridiculous it sounds, but I couldn’t help it." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "When you started posting all those pictures of you two, I felt like I was being replaced. And instead of talking to you, I just… shut down.” Ona sighed, her voice quieter now. “Look, about Aitana—” You cut her off, shaking your head. “No, I got it. Instantly got it." You said. "And, I saw you two playing online last week. She’s amazing. I’m happy for you both." Ona laughed dryly, catching you off guard. “I’m not dating Aitana.” “What?” you asked, completely thrown. She shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her arm. “I only posted those pictures to get your attention. To make you jealous.” Your brows furrowed in disbelief. “Why would you want to make me jealous?” Ona scoffed, her lips curling into a small, bitter smile. There was a moment of silence before she looked at you again, locking eyes. “I think you know why.” Her voice came out low and quiet as if she didn't want you to hear.

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken feelings. “I mean,” you stammered, trying to piece your thoughts together. You were just stumbling with your words. “If you had started dating, I would’ve congratulated you. Aitana seems like a great person, and you two would—” “Are you trying to push me toward someone else again?” Ona interrupted, shaking her head as she looked down with a dry laugh. You raised your hands defensively. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just… I’m still figuring all of this out.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’ve thought about us a lot over the past month—how I feel about you, about us.” Her eyes softened, but her guard didn’t drop. “Then, why didn’t you answer any of my calls?” “Because I was scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Her stare was making you nervous. “I thought if I talked to you, I’d lose focus. I wouldn’t be able to sort out my feelings and I'd just fuck up. But I'm glad I took my time...” “And what now?” Ona asked, her voice cautious. “I realized that I like you,” you said, the weight of the confession lifting slightly from your chest. "I like you beyond just as friends." Ona’s eyes widened, but she stayed silent, waiting for you to continue. You took a deep breath, letting the words spill out. “I feel so stupid for not realizing sooner. You’ve been so obvious about it, but I was clueless. And worse, I didn’t even know my own feelings.” You laughed bitterly. “I’ve always liked you, Ona. But I never thought of it as a crush because… well, we’ve always been so close. It felt like we were already together. I never thought I’d have to say it out loud.” You swallowed the lump forming in your throat before continuing. "And, I was scared that if I had said something, it would do more bad than good." You confessed, being completely vulnerable. "We already were there for each other all these years. I was scared that if I had said anything before, it would drive you away and I would lose you. And I didn't want to lose you." Ona stepped closer, her expression unreadable. “And now? What are you trying to say?” Your lips trembled as you laughed nervously, tears stinging your eyes. “I’m asking if you still want to be my best friend, even after everything I said." Ona’s face fell, disappointment flashing in her eyes. “Oh.” “But—” You reached for her hand with some hesitation. “I also want you to know that I think I might be in love with you." Her lips parted in surprise, her breath catching. Slowly, Ona stepped closer, her eyes searching yours. A smile grew on her face as she took your face in her hand. Without another word, she leaned in, her lips confidently capturing yours. It felt firm and sure as if answering you without using words. Just like that, your insecurities melted away. Suddenly, everything was back to before. No, it's even better than before. It was what you've always wanted, even back when you didn't know that you wanted it yet. When she pulled away, her lips curled into a small, teasing smile. She looked at both your eyes and you gazed into hers, taking in the moment between you. Ona chuckled. “Took you long enough.”

a/n: my first fluff fic <3 please be nice. i appreciate reblogs, comments, likes and messages or requests! i'm open to following this fic up if i get enough inspiration later on <3 taglist: @allaboutnayeli @shayepe @tsaynsp @acrypa24 @iliketozoneout @yapileon @kelseyaparker19 @wosocity @pitchsidestories @micaluvssoccer @lenorelovesgirls @marialife03 @jana22188

[gatorbites-imagines]

Can you please make more Remy LeBeau content? I love that little Cajun man so much! Please and Thank you!

Remy LeBeau x male reader

Headcanons

I’ve had this plot idea for a while, so im gonna try to shake it out my system. I know very little about Cajun culture, European here, so take it with a grain of salt. Sorry for the lack of posting, classes have already been beating me up and I literally just started.

You were your average Cajun kid when you met Remy, back when he still ran with the thief’s guild and before he was adopted by Jean-Luc.

You were a bit of a stereotype when it came to New Orleans Cajun kids. You liked to cause trouble, you liked to party, you liked to hunt frogs at night and spearfish Gar when there were no frogs. And damn did you like messing with the gators. All your messing around did make you lose your pinky on your right hand, but it didn’t stop you.

You were no mutant, but you might as well have been with all the stuff you got into. You always claimed it was just your Cajun roots that kept you immortal.

That was how you met Remy, through all your troublemaking. Youd just shoved one of your friends bullies into the swamp near your neighborhood, and immediately legged it, knowing his brothers would feed you to the gators if they got the chance.

That’s how you end up running right into Remy, sending you both skittering across the ground. Before he could say anything though, you just grad his wrist with your four fingered hand and drag him along, cackling as the bullies’ brothers try and catch you.

The two of you end up in a completely different neighborhood, hiding under somebodies porch as you try not to snicker as the older boys run right past, cursing up a storm about the “gator bait” getting away. And yes, that was what people called you in your neighborhood, because of your hand.

Remy had expected you to immediately fear him or become disgusted at the sight of his eyes. But instead, you just told him they were cool as fuck and you wished your eyes were like that.

After hiding for a while, the two of you split up to go about your lives. But you end up bumping into each other quite a lot, since you both just like to wander. That’s how you two end up becoming friends, even as hes part of the thieves guild.

You end up dragging him to your house too where he meets your mother. Your dad wasn’t around anymore, he drowned when you were a baby, but your mom said you had his fire and lack of self-preservation.

To Remys shock, your mom didn’t mind his eyes either, just accepting him in with a kind but tired smile. He later learns your mom works two or three jobs depending on the season to keep you guys fed, which is why you have so much time to run around.

You two keep growing up together, even if there at times is distance for different reasons. You keep causing trouble, but get better at hiding it, you become real good at figuring out the area, the waters, the people and animals, so on and so forth.

This helps you get your first job as a guide for tourists. You don’t really like it, but they tip you pretty well. You use that money to take Remy out for sno-balls, or rather, its you going in to get them, so you guys can eat them on your backyard porch.

You both gained a lot of scars over the years from the different lives you lived. Youd never asked Remy about the guild, and he never really asked too much about the different scars on your arms and legs he was sure came from a knife and not fishing wire.

It was also on that porch you guys shared your first kiss. It was clumsy, uncomfortable, your lips stained blue as his were green, from the thick sugary syrups used on the sno-balls. But it was still the best kiss either of you could have imagined.

You two never got to explore too deeply what your relationship meant. one week Remy was more distant than usual, before he suddenly showed up at your place, looking worse to wear, telling you he needed to get out of New Orleans.

You weren’t gonna question him, so you packed him into your truck and just started driving. The entire time he clung to your hand, looking at you so intensely, like hed never see you again. But you tried to keep the mood light, joking as usual and playing your favorite music.

The goodbye was one of the hardest things in your lives. You even told Remy you’d leave him with, ready to leave it all behind to stay by his side, wherever he would go. But Remy knew you had a life here, you had your mom, a good job, other friends, he couldn’t ask that of you.

So, in the end, Remy simply kissed you goodbye, and said he hoped you two would meet again. And disappeared into the night, like something out of a dream.

A couple of hours passed before you decided to drive back home. You smoked through an entire pack of cigarettes, so tempted to also empty the bottle of alcohol you hid under the seat in your truck. But you also knew you needed to return to your mom.

So with one final longing glance in the direction Remy disappeared, you turned back around and drove back home, New Orleans feeling less vibrant and lively than usual.

It would be years before you two meet again, and even then, it had been an accident.

You had left New Orleans behind after Remy left, your mom passed away,  and nothing really kept you there without either of them. It took a while before you finally settled down in New York. It wasn’t the same as where you grew up, but it was good enough for now. And if nothing worked, you could just go back to Louisiana and live in a small shed, where you’d spend your days catching fish.

What brought you together, was that your neighbors kid developed their mutation. Something they couldn’t hide, their eyes so different they couldn’t even use contacts as an excuse.

If their parents had been kind, hadn’t been so openly ex-mutant, you might not have done anything. But you’d heard rumors of Charles Xavier, and how his school helped Mutants like that.

So, you packed your neighbors kid into your truck, the same you’d driven Remy in, with what they needed to bring, and drove them there. Like the ride with Remy, you tried to keep the mood light, hoping to just keep it all from falling apart.

It took some time to get to the school, through whatever security they had, and to the front door. Part of you feared it was the wrong place, until the guy who’d spoken to you over the security comm stepped out. That visor made it pretty clear he wasn’t just your average joe.

Normally you’d have left it at that, leaving the kid with people who knew what they were talking about and doing. But they were too scared to be alone, and after some scowling from a guy that looked like a hairy homeless guy, you were allowed in.

Your thick accent seemed to gain some positive or funny reactions, that same hairy guy from before grumbling “another Cajun”. But you were mainly focused on getting the kid settled.

Of course, until you heard a familiar voice, laying his usual flirts on thick with somebody. Remy was still as handsome as when you last saw him, though a little older, but so were you. The kid was introduced to him, and the two already seemed to bond over their eyes being their main visual of their mutation.

“They reminded me of you, maybe that’s why I felt so protective” you just throw out there, hands in your pockets as you shrugged, your voice immediately catching Remy’s attention, who seemed as shocked to see you as you were him.

It was clear you two knew each other, and that emotional look in your eyes had the others shuffling off to keep showing the kid around, as you two were left alone.

You two go out back to sit on the porch of the mansion. It wasn’t the same as in New Orleans, but it still had your heart racing. It was awkward for a moment, you two sharing what you’d been up too since you last saw each other.

With you, Remy didn’t need to put on the plays like usual, he could just be Remy LeBeau and nobody else, and holding your hand with only four fingers in his own laid to rest some of the pain that had been present for years.

You two didn’t immediately start dating or anything. It was more returning to what was before, without all the stealing and trouble you two used to get into. At least, not to the same degree. But it built at a comfortable pace.

You became an honorary visitor of the mansion, since the kid you brought there still felt quite attached, but also for Remy. You were also able to worm your way into the hearts of the other x-men, some quicker than others, but you did it anyways.

Remy spent a lot of time at your place too, and he even helped you move when you moved just a bit closer to the x-men.

Neither of you could really tell when it went from deep pining to dating. One moment you guys just finally started kissing. The cuddling, sharing clothes and many other things that came with a relationship was something you already did, so the kissing was truly the last part missing.

You do end up having to learn better self-defense, being close to the x-men like that. But for Remy you’d do anything, even doing stretches that have your legs screaming since you aren’t used to bend like that.

[shybluebirdninja]

Boundaries of Obsession

Summary: Logan, a seasoned bodyguard with a troubled past, is reluctantly assigned to protect Y/n, a 23-year-old diplomat's daughter. The vast age gap between them creates immediate tension, with Y/N resistant to Logan's intrusive presence. However, as they spend more time together, Logan’s professional detachment gives way to possessiveness and jealousy. His obsession threatens to undermine their relationship, forcing both to confront the boundaries of their growing feelings for each other.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female-Human Reader (Y/N Sinclair) Warning: Angst, lil bit of fluff

Logan had been on the edge of a goddamn meltdown, and he’d been desperately hoping for a break from the never-ending grind of his job. He was sprawled out in his small, dimly lit apartment, surrounded by the detritus of his last assignment: crumpled papers, empty takeout containers, and an assortment of half-empty bottles that might have once contained something drinkable. His apartment looked like a tornado had decided to take a detour through his life.

He was nursing a mug of coffee that had long lost any semblance of warmth, staring at the peeling wallpaper as if it might provide some answers. He was just about to lose himself in the haze of his thoughts when the shrill ring of the office phone cut through the silence like a damn alarm bell. It was a sound that meant trouble, and trouble was the last thing he wanted.

With a groan that could only be described as pure frustration, Logan grabbed the receiver and answered with a voice that could best be described as a growl. “Logan.”

“Hey, Logan,” came the voice on the other end. It was Rick, his boss. The tone was serious—Rick had a knack for sounding like someone was about to get shot whenever he was on the line. “We’ve got a new assignment for you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, though Rick couldn’t see it through the phone. “Seriously? What now? Can’t a guy catch a break? I’m drowning in paperwork and old pizza boxes here. I need some damn time off.”

Rick wasn’t one for beating around the bush. “This isn’t a joke, Logan. We need you to protect Y/N Sinclair. She’s the daughter of a diplomat. She’s 23, and there’s been some pretty credible threats against her.”

Logan let out a snort, one that was more of a sarcastic chuckle than anything else. “Protect a diplomat’s kid? That sounds like a whole barrel of fun. What’s she done, pissed off some world leaders? Because that’s usually the kind of thing that gets you on the hit list.”

Rick’s voice took on a slightly softer tone, which was rare for him. “I get it. It sounds like a cushy gig, but it’s high-profile. We need someone who knows their shit. You’ve got the experience, and frankly, I don’t think anyone else is up for it. And hey, it’s just a few weeks. Think of it as a temporary change of pace.”

Logan sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was on them. “Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to be thrilled about it. If I end up babysitting someone with a silver spoon stuck in her mouth, I swear, I’m going to lose it.”

Rick chuckled, though it was the kind of chuckle that suggested he was already preparing for more of Logan’s bullshit. “You always have a way of making these things sound so glamorous. But thanks for taking it on. I’ll send over the details. Just remember, this is important.”

Logan slammed the receiver down, muttering curses under his breath. “Important. Sure. Probably just another way to get me tangled up in someone else’s mess.” He glanced around his apartment, wondering how on earth he was going to get through this. He picked up a stray piece of paper, squinting at it as if it might hold some kind of answer to his current predicament.

His mind was already racing through the logistics of the new assignment: meeting Y/N Sinclair, figuring out her schedule, and trying to figure out how to stay sane while being stuck in the same space as someone who probably didn’t know the first thing about real danger. He was about to face yet another chapter of dealing with people who had no idea what it was like to live in the real world, where every day was a battle and every decision was a gamble.

Logan took a deep breath, staring at the mess that was his life and muttering to himself. “Well, at least I’ll get a change of scenery. Maybe I’ll even get to add a few new scars to the collection.” He chuckled darkly, knowing full well that he was in for a ride he wasn’t exactly thrilled about.

And so, with that resigned acceptance, Logan prepared himself for whatever hell was about to unfold. He might have been grumbling and cursing every step of the way, but deep down, he knew he’d take the job.

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

Logan’s arrival at the Sinclair residence was like stepping into a fucking fairy tale. He was greeted by the kind of grandeur that would make a king feel underdressed. The estate sprawled out before him in all its marble and chandelier glory. It was the kind of place where the floors sparkled under the glow of opulent fixtures, and every corner seemed to whisper tales of old money and impeccable taste. Logan took it all in with a mixture of awe and begrudging respect.

He pushed through the massive double doors, which opened with a creak that seemed to say, “Welcome to the land of the rich and ridiculously privileged.” The marble lobby was bathed in a soft, natural light that filtered through high arched windows, casting a warm glow over everything. Logan's boots made a dull thud against the marble as he walked in, a stark contrast to the silent elegance of the place. His own scuffed, worn-out shoes were a far cry from the polished perfection that surrounded him.

Logan glanced around, taking in the elegant furniture and tasteful decorations—each piece meticulously chosen to scream luxury. It was all a bit much, really. His small, dimly lit apartment felt like a lifetime away from this place. He was used to grimy street corners and dingy warehouses, not this plush extravagance. He felt a twinge of discomfort, as if he was an imposter at a very high-society masquerade.

Then he saw her. Y/N Sinclair. She was standing by the grand staircase, waiting for him with an air of cool composure that was both intriguing and slightly infuriating. The way she carried herself with a blend of youthful enthusiasm and restrained annoyance made it clear she wasn’t thrilled to see him. She was striking—no doubt about it. Her beauty was understated yet captivating, and her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her sharp, green eyes even more arresting. Those eyes were curious but had an edge that suggested she was ready to be unimpressed.

Logan approached her with a professional detachment that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else. His dark suit felt like a costume he wore to fit in with this high-society circus, and it contrasted sharply with Y/N’s more casual attire—a simple blouse and jeans. He knew the suit was his attempt to blend in, but it felt like it was doing the opposite. He couldn’t help but admire the way she looked, though he kept it buried under a layer of gruff professionalism.

Y/N turned to face him as he drew near, her expression a mix of guarded curiosity and subtle skepticism. She extended her hand, and Logan took it, shaking it firmly. “Mr. Logan, I presume?”

“Ms. Sinclair,” Logan replied, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll be your bodyguard for the duration of this assignment. My job is to ensure your safety.”

Y/N withdrew her hand and crossed her arms, her posture defensive. “I’m not sure why I need a bodyguard. I’m just going about my daily life. Surely that’s manageable.”

Logan couldn’t help but let a hint of sarcasm slip through. “It’s not just about managing; it’s about making sure you don’t get yourself into a world of trouble. There’ve been credible threats against you, and it’s my job to keep you safe. I’ll be tagging along wherever you go, making sure nothing goes south.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a slight frown, and she glanced around the opulent lobby, clearly uncomfortable with the intrusion into her personal space. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to this, won’t I?”

Logan noticed the flicker of frustration in her eyes. He could see she was trying to reconcile the grandeur of her surroundings with the reality of having her freedom curtailed. “We’ll figure out a way to make this as smooth as possible. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary given the circumstances.”

Y/N huffed softly, her frustration palpable. “I’ve always valued my independence. Having someone shadow me every step of the way feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Logan’s expression softened, though he kept his tone steady. “I get that. It’s a hell of an adjustment. My job is to be as unobtrusive as possible while making sure you stay safe. I’ll try not to step on your toes more than necessary.”

Y/N’s gaze softened a little, though her defensiveness was still there. “I appreciate that you’re trying to be considerate. But can you at least explain what you’ll be doing? How is this going to work?”

Logan nodded, thankful for the chance to lay out the plan. “Sure thing. My primary duties will include keeping you company during any public or private events, assessing potential risks, and coordinating with local security. I’ll also be on the lookout for any threats and making sure your day-to-day activities are as safe as possible. I’ll be around, but I’ll try to keep it low-key.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly still skeptical. “And what if I decide to go somewhere or do something without you?”

Logan considered her question, knowing it was a crucial point. “If you decide to go out on your own, I’ll need to check out your destination and who you’ll be with. It’s not about limiting your freedom, but about making sure you’re safe. We’ll work together to plan your activities in a way that keeps you secure while respecting your autonomy.”

Y/N sighed, a sound that was equal parts frustration and resignation. “I suppose that makes sense. I’m just not used to having someone constantly watching over me.”

Logan offered a reassuring smile, though he was aware of the fine line he had to walk. “I understand. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I’m here to make this process as smooth as possible. If you have any concerns or preferences, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the skepticism seemed to wane. She gave a small, begrudging nod. “Alright. I guess we’ll have to make the best of this situation.”

Logan’s smile remained professional, but he felt a flicker of relief. “Thanks for being understanding. I’ll do my best to ensure this is as smooth and secure as possible for you.”

Y/N led him through the residence, her pace steady as she showed him the key areas he needed to know. As they walked through the grand halls, she pointed out various rooms and gave a brief overview of her daily schedule. Logan couldn’t help but notice the opulence of the surroundings—the rich tapestries on the walls, the polished wood of the furniture—all of it spoke of a life he was only beginning to understand.

During the tour, Y/N maintained a polite distance, though there was a formality in her demeanor that made it clear she was still adjusting to the situation. Logan observed her closely, noting the way she moved and spoke. She was a study in contrasts: graceful yet guarded, confident yet clearly struggling with the invasion of her privacy.

As they reached her personal quarters, Y/N stopped and turned to him with a faint smile. “This is where I’ll be spending most of my time. You’ll have access to this area, but please try to avoid intruding on my private space.”

Logan nodded, feeling the weight of her request. “Understood. I’ll be discreet and respectful of your privacy.”

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, though she was still clearly adjusting. “I appreciate that. Let’s start with a schedule for tomorrow. Do you have any preferences for how you’d like to handle things?”

Logan thought for a moment, weighing his response. “I’d suggest we start by reviewing your planned activities for the day. It’ll help me understand your routine and spot any potential risks. We can also discuss any specific concerns you might have.”

Y/N nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s do that.”

As they moved on to discuss the details of the upcoming days, Logan found himself increasingly intrigued by Y/N. Despite her initial defensiveness, there were moments when her sharp wit and intelligence shone through. She was passionate about her work and had a clear sense of purpose, which was both admirable and, at times, frustratingly idealistic.

In the evening, as their discussions wrapped up, Y/N offered Logan a hesitant smile. “I guess this isn’t going to be as terrible as I initially thought. Thanks for taking the time to explain everything.”

Logan returned the smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll address any concerns as they come up. It’s important that you feel comfortable and safe.”

Y/N’s smile grew warmer. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I suppose you’re not so bad after all.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As Y/N headed off to her room, Logan remained in the lobby, reflecting on the day’s events. He knew the road ahead would be filled with challenges, both professional and personal. Building rapport with Y/N was just the beginning, and he needed to be prepared for the complexities that would inevitably arise.

He took a deep breath, resolved to tackle the assignment with the same dedication and professionalism he had applied to every previous job. Gaining Y/N’s trust and ensuring her safety would require patience and adaptability. As he prepared for the days ahead, he reminded himself that the success of the assignment hinged not just on protecting Y/N from external threats, but also on navigating the delicate balance of their evolving relationship.

The next morning, Logan met Y/N at breakfast, ready to dive into the day’s activities. As he observed her, he felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The assignment had just begun, and he was acutely aware that the dynamics between them would shape their time together. Y/N greeted him with a more relaxed demeanor, and Logan took it as a positive sign.

He knew that the coming days would be crucial in building a rapport and establishing a sense of trust. With each interaction, Logan hoped to not only fulfill his duties but also make Y/N feel as comfortable and secure as possible. Logan’s initial days with the Sinclairs were a whirlwind of adjustments and observations.

Their interactions were a delicate dance of professionalism and personal boundaries. Y/N, though initially resistant, began to show signs of acceptance. The tension from their first meeting gradually eased, replaced by a tentative cooperation. Logan observed her routines and preferences, making adjustments to his approach as needed. He found that Y/N’s defensiveness was often a mask for her underlying vulnerability. She had been thrust into a world of scrutiny and expectation, and his presence was a constant reminder of her lack of control.

Logan’s role went beyond just being a physical presence; it was about understanding the subtleties of Y/N’s world and adapting to them. The Sinclair estate was a world apart from his usual environment, but he approached the challenge with the same focus and determination he applied to his work. He made it a point to blend into the background, allowing Y/N the space she needed while remaining vigilant. Their conversations gradually became less formal, and Y/N began to open up about her life and the pressures she faced. Logan learned about her aspirations, her struggles with her public image, and her desire for a more ordinary life. It was clear that beneath the veneer of wealth and privilege, Y/N was grappling with her own set of challenges.

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Building trust with Y/N Sinclair wasn’t a walk in the park. It was a constant grind, a mix of small wins and the occasional fuck-up. Logan knew that his success in this gig wasn’t just about keeping her safe; it was also about breaking down the walls between them and making her feel at ease. He was working on making their interactions more than just a transactional deal—he was in it to build some real rapport.

One evening, after a day that felt like it never ended—meetings, events, and more meetings—Y/N approached Logan with a thoughtful look on her face. The day’s chaos had left them both a bit drained, but there was something different in the way she spoke to him.

“You know, Mr. Logan,” she started, her tone softer than usual, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually starting to appreciate having you around. It’s been weird, having someone breathing down my neck all the time, but I’m beginning to see that there’s some value in it.”

Logan gave her a genuine smile, feeling a bit of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it’s not exactly the most comfortable situation, and I really appreciate you sticking with it. My goal is to make this as smooth as possible for you.”

Y/N’s face relaxed a bit, and she seemed to be weighing her next words carefully. “I get that. And I can see you’re trying to help. It’s just… sometimes it feels like there’s this invisible wall between us. Like, I’m always having to explain myself or justify my actions.”

Logan took a moment to let that sink in. “I get it. It’s a tough balance—trying to respect your privacy while also making sure you’re safe. If there’s anything specific you need or any way I can make this easier, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in them. “Actually, there is something. I’ve got some personal stuff going on, and it would be nice if you could give me a bit of space to handle it. I don’t want to push you away, but I also need some time to sort things out on my own.”

Logan’s face showed genuine empathy. “I appreciate you being honest with me. I’ll give you the space you need, but remember, I’m here if you need anything or if the situation changes.”

Y/N’s smile was the kind that made it clear she meant it. It wasn’t just a polite gesture; it was real. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I’m starting to feel like we’re actually getting somewhere.”

Logan’s role as her bodyguard had shifted from just being a protector to becoming someone she could actually talk to—a confidant and a source of stability in her chaotic world. The initial awkwardness and tension had given way to a growing mutual respect. They were finding their groove, and it wasn’t just about being professional anymore. Y/N’s trust in Logan was becoming more evident. Their conversations were less formal, and she seemed more comfortable opening up about her life and her struggles. Logan had noticed that Y/N’s walls were coming down, bit by bit. She was starting to let him in, and that was a significant shift from their early interactions.

Logan was adapting well to the changes. He found himself more attuned to Y/N’s needs and concerns. The balance between professional duty and personal connection was delicate, but he was managing it. It wasn’t just about being her bodyguard anymore; it was about being someone she could rely on, someone who understood the complexities of her life. One evening, after a particularly intense day, they found themselves in a more relaxed setting. Y/N had just finished a call that left her visibly frustrated. Logan, sensing the opportunity, decided to push the boundaries a bit. He leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You know,” he said, his tone more playful than usual, “for someone who’s constantly surrounded by people, you seem to spend a lot of time looking like you need a drink.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “Just saying, you’ve got that ‘I need a drink and a vacation’ look. And if you’re ever up for some company, I might know a place that serves a mean cocktail.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but trying to keep her composure. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Logan.”

Logan laughed, his tone light and easy. “Hey, it’s all part of the job. If I can make you smile or take your mind off things, then I’m doing my job right.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I guess you’ve got a point. And maybe I do need a break from all this craziness.”

The shift in their interactions was palpable. Logan’s attempts at humor and casual conversation were breaking down the last of the barriers between them. Y/N seemed more relaxed, and there was a newfound ease in their interactions. Logan’s role was no longer confined to the professional realm; he was becoming a friend, someone who understood the weight of her world.

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What had started as a distant and necessary alliance had morphed into something more layered and intense. Neither of them had anticipated the emotional currents that would come to define their relationship. Y/N’s initial irritation with Logan’s constant presence had eased into a grudging acceptance. She had started to see the value in his unyielding vigilance, even if it was a constant reminder of the danger she faced. Their shared moments—whether it was casual chats or the occasional laugh—began to blur the lines between professional duty and personal connection.

Logan, for his part, found himself increasingly drawn into Y/N’s world. The boundaries he had originally maintained started to dissolve. His protective instincts, sharp and well-honed, began to stray into a more personal territory. Though he masked his growing attachment with professionalism, Y/N could sense the change.

The first real crack in their evolving relationship came with Tom, an artist Y/N had met at a charity event. Tom was charismatic and effortlessly charming, a stark contrast to Logan’s usually stoic demeanor. He and Y/N had hit it off, and soon, they were collaborating on a project that was deeply personal to her. One evening, after a lively gathering that left them both a bit drained, Y/N and Logan found themselves alone in her apartment. The living room was softly lit by a lamp, the remnants of their evening—half-empty wine glasses and the faint echo of music—lingering in the air.

“Tom’s been amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes practically glowing with excitement. “We’ve been making incredible progress on the project. He’s so creative—his ideas are just... phenomenal. We’ve been working late into the night, and it’s been really inspiring.”

Logan’s usual composure started to crack. He stood rigid, his voice coming out sharper than intended. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Tom lately,” he said, barely hiding his frustration. “I’ve noticed how close you’ve become.”

Y/N’s excitement faltered, replaced by confusion. “Tom’s just a friend. We’re working on something together. What’s the problem?”

Logan’s irritation bubbled up. “It’s not just about the project. I’ve seen how you interact with him, and I don’t fucking like it. I don’t trust him. I’m here to keep you safe, and I don’t like the idea of you being so close to someone I don’t know well.”

Y/N’s face flared with a mix of hurt and anger. “You’re not my goddamn guardian, Logan. I don’t need you deciding who I can or can’t be friends with. Tom’s been nothing but supportive. Just because you don’t know him doesn’t mean he’s a threat.”

Logan’s frustration turned into outright anger. “It’s not about controlling you. It’s about your fucking safety. I’ve seen too many situations where people who seem harmless end up being anything but. My job is to protect you, and that means being cautious about who you spend time with.”

Y/N stood up abruptly, her movements sharp. “You’re crossing a line here, Logan. I appreciate your protection, but this is my life. I’m not some fragile doll that needs to be guarded every second. I deserve the freedom to make my own choices and trust the people I want to trust.”

Logan’s anger flared, his voice rising. “It’s not about mistrusting you. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I can’t just ignore potential risks, especially when I’m responsible for your well-being.”

Y/N’s voice wavered between anger and hurt. “You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t be close to. I understand you’re doing your job, but you need to respect my autonomy. I’m not asking you to like Tom, but I am asking you to trust me.”

Logan’s face was a mask of internal conflict. “Trust is hard for me, Y/N. I’ve been in situations where trust was fucking shattered, and it makes you wary. But I’m trying to find a balance here. I don’t want to jeopardize our working relationship or make you feel controlled.”

Y/N’s anger slowly melted into sadness. “I need you to understand that I’m not asking for special treatment or to be shielded from the world. I just want to live my life without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. I need you to trust me, just as much as I’m trying to trust you.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged, the weight of the argument pressing down on him. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just that my instincts are hard to turn off. I’m used to being on high alert, especially when it comes to someone I care about.”

Y/N’s expression softened as she absorbed his words. “I get that you care, and I appreciate your dedication. But there has to be a middle ground where I can have my space and make my own decisions without feeling suffocated.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, charged with the unspoken emotions of both. Logan wrestled with his internal conflict, realizing his protective instincts were beginning to cloud his judgment. Y/N struggled with asserting her independence while acknowledging Logan’s genuine concern.

After a long pause, Logan finally spoke, his voice softer and more measured. “I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us. Maybe we can find a way to balance your safety with your need for autonomy. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and frustration. “I appreciate that. Let’s work on finding that balance together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he took a deep breath. “Agreed. We’ll figure it out. I’ll try to be more mindful of your need for space while still doing my job.”

Y/N offered a tentative smile, signaling her willingness to move forward. “Thank you. I’m sure we can make this work.”

The next few days were tense but marked by small, deliberate efforts from both sides to bridge the gap that had opened up between them. Logan made a conscious effort to respect Y/N’s autonomy, giving her space while maintaining his vigilant presence. Y/N, in turn, tried to understand the depth of Logan’s protective instincts, recognizing that his intentions, though sometimes misguided, were rooted in genuine concern. One evening, as they found themselves in a more relaxed setting—Logan had just returned from a long day and Y/N was unwinding with a book—Logan decided to try to lighten the mood. He plopped down on the couch next to her, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You know,” he said, his tone playful, “if you’re ever tired of working late with Tom, I know a great spot for drinks. Just saying.”

Y/N looked up from her book, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

Logan chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not drowning in work. Plus, it’s not every day I get to see you unwind. You deserve a break.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. But I appreciate the offer. Maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

Logan’s grin widened, feeling a rare sense of triumph. “That’s what I like to hear. And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get to meet this Tom guy. Make sure he knows who’s really looking out for you.”

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Logan’s heart skip a beat. But just as he was about to make another playful comment, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and her smile faltered slightly.

“It’s Tom,” she said, showing him the screen. “He’s just checking in about our project.”

Logan’s mood shifted abruptly. He forced himself to mask the pang of jealousy, but his irritation was palpable. “Right. Well, tell Tom I said hi. Or better yet, let’s talk about something else. How’s your day been otherwise?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the change in Logan’s demeanor. “My day’s been fine. Why?”

Logan’s voice came out sharper than he intended. “Just curious. You seem pretty wrapped up in this project with Tom.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously jealous of Tom? He’s just a friend, Logan. It’s not like we’re going to get married or something.”

Logan’s frustration boiled over. “It’s not about jealousy. It’s about the fact that you’re spending all this time with him and I’m left feeling like a third wheel. It’s my job to keep you safe, and seeing you get so close to someone I don’t know well just pisses me off.”

Y/N stood up, her patience wearing thin. “You’re being ridiculous. Tom’s not a threat. You’re overreacting.”

Logan’s voice rose, unable to keep his anger in check. “It’s not about overreacting. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I’m here to do a job, and I can’t just ignore potential risks, even if it means coming off as a jealous asshole.”

Y/N’s face turned red with frustration. “You need to get over yourself, Logan. I’m not a child. I deserve to make my own decisions without feeling like I’m being controlled.”

Logan’s anger started to crack as he saw the hurt in Y/N’s eyes. His voice softened, a mixture of regret and vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like that. It’s just... sometimes it’s hard to switch off the part of me that’s always on high alert.”

Y/N’s anger ebbed away, replaced by a more measured sadness. “I get that you care, but you need to trust me. I’m asking for a bit of space and the freedom to make my own choices. I’m not asking for special treatment.”

Logan’s expression softened, a mix of guilt and longing in his eyes. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just... it’s hard for me to let go sometimes. I’ve been through a lot, and it makes it tough to just let things be. But I’m trying. I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “I appreciate that. I know you’re trying, but we need to find a balance where we both feel comfortable. I need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’re right. We need to find that balance. I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us.”

Y/N’s expression was a mix of relief and resolve. “Good. Let’s work on it together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel respected and trusted.”

Logan took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “Agreed. I’ll work on being more mindful of your space while still keeping you safe. And, for what it’s worth, I want to be honest with you about something.”

Y/N looked at him, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Logan hesitated for a moment, then spoke with a raw honesty. “These past few months, spending time with you—it’s been... I don’t know, something I didn’t expect. I’ve been so used to being alone, and having you around, it’s... changed things for me. I’ve been trying to fight it, but I have feelings for you, Y/N. You’ve become a part of my life in a way I didn’t think was possible.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering across her face. “Logan, I... I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Logan looked down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. “I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing. I didn’t mean to come off as a controlling asshole. It’s just that you’ve become important to me. I want to protect you, not just because it’s my job, but because... because I care about you.”

Y/N took a deep breath, processing his words. “I appreciate your honesty, Logan. It means a lot. And I want you to know that I care about you too. I just need to find a way where we can both feel comfortable and respected.”

Logan’s face softened, a tentative smile forming. “Yeah, I think we can figure it out. We just need to communicate and understand each other better.” Y/N nodded, a small, genuine smile on her lips. “Agreed. Let’s work on it. Together.

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The weeks wore on, and Logan's feelings for Y/N twisted into a dark, consuming obsession. What had started as a protective instinct soon spiraled into a desperate need to control every aspect of her life. His once-guarded professionalism eroded, replaced by an all-consuming jealousy that tainted every interaction Y/N had with others.

It was clear to everyone around them—if they cared to notice—that Logan’s possessiveness was turning into a problem. He scrutinized Y/N’s every move with a vigilance that bordered on the obsessive. What had initially seemed like simple concern now looked more like an all-out invasion of her personal space. Each friendly interaction Y/N had with other men seemed to send Logan into a fit of barely-contained rage.

The turning point came at a gallery opening where Y/N was showcasing her latest collection. The event was buzzing with art enthusiasts and critics, all eager to discuss Y/N’s work. Logan had been assigned to discreetly monitor the event, but his attempts at maintaining his usual detachment quickly fell apart. He stationed himself on the edge of the crowd, ostensibly to observe, but his gaze was fixated on Y/N.

Y/N, radiant in her element, moved gracefully through the crowd. Her laughter rang out clearly and genuinely as she engaged with admirers. Every compliment, every interaction with other men seemed to deepen Logan’s unease. His jealousy flared at every friendly pat on the back, every animated conversation. The sight of her mingling with others was like a knife to his gut, sparking a storm of irrationality within him.

By the time the gallery event wound down, Logan was a bundle of barely contained frustration. His usually controlled eyes burned with a simmering intensity that he struggled to mask. As Y/N returned to her apartment, Logan’s tension was palpable, his earlier attempt to maintain a façade of professionalism slipping away the moment they were alone.

Y/N, sensing the shift in Logan’s demeanor, eyed him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You seem off tonight. Everything okay?”

Logan’s voice was taut with irritation. “Oh, you know, just the usual. You were the fucking center of attention tonight. Surrounded by a bunch of guys. It pissed me off.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and frustration. “Seriously? You’re complaining about me interacting with people at my own event? It’s part of my job, Logan. You’re being unreasonable.”

Logan’s face twisted with conflicted rage. “It’s not just about being unreasonable. Seeing you with those other men... it fucking kills me. I can’t stand it. I know it’s irrational, but I just... I can’t fucking help it.”

Y/N’s frustration boiled over. She crossed her arms and stared him down. “This isn’t about your feelings of insecurity. It’s about control. You can’t dictate every aspect of my professional life. It’s unhealthy.”

Logan’s anger surged, his voice rising. “It’s not about controlling you. I’m just trying to protect you. Every time I see you laughing and talking with other guys, it feels like I’m losing my grip on something important. I don’t even know why it’s hitting me so hard now.”

Y/N’s eyes softened with empathy but her voice remained firm. “You need to separate your personal issues from your professional duties. This obsession is affecting our working relationship and your ability to do your job.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. “I get it. I know I’m crossing lines. I’m supposed to be professional, but these feelings... they’re like a fucking storm I can’t control. I haven’t felt anything like this in years. I’ve always kept my feelings in check, but with you... it’s different. It’s like I’m losing you every time you’re with someone else.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered with a note of compassion. “Logan, you’re not losing me. But your jealousy and possessiveness are getting out of hand. It’s not fair to me or to you. We need to confront this head-on. If we don’t, it’s only going to get worse.”

Logan’s face was a mix of anger, regret, and confusion. “I don’t know how to handle this. I’ve never been this fucked up before. It’s like I’m trapped between wanting to keep you safe and being overwhelmed by my own feelings. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice softening but her tone serious. “Logan, we both need to be honest here. Your feelings are clouding your judgment. And it’s affecting our relationship. We need to talk about boundaries and expectations, or this is just going to keep spiraling.”

Logan’s gaze met hers with a mix of vulnerability and resolve. “You’re right. We need to clear the air. I don’t want to be a fucking burden or let my emotions ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

Y/N’s eyes held a mixture of relief and determination. “Let’s tackle this head-on. We need to be clear about our boundaries and communicate openly. It’s important for both of us.”

Logan’s voice wavered slightly as he took a deep breath. “There’s something I’ve never told you before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not in a long time. I’ve always kept my emotions in check, especially with my... unique abilities. But with you, it’s different. I fucking care about you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering in her eyes. “I didn’t realize... I mean, I’ve felt something too. I’ve been trying to figure it out. I guess... I care about you too, Logan. But we need to get through this mess if we’re going to have anything.”

Logan looked at her with a mixture of hope and apprehension. “I know. I just want to make things right. I want us to be able to work together and be... whatever this is between us. But we need to sort this out first.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady and warm. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. Let’s be honest and clear about what we need from each other.”

The conversation left them both emotionally drained, the weight of their confession hanging heavily between them. But Logan’s struggles with jealousy and obsession didn’t end with that discussion. If anything, his behavior grew increasingly erratic.

One evening, Y/N was preparing for a dinner with a potential new client. Logan was supposed to be on duty, maintaining his usual professional distance, but his simmering jealousy soon erupted. Y/N, unaware of the storm brewing within him, was in the midst of selecting an outfit for the occasion.

Logan’s voice cut through the quiet of the apartment, sharp and tinged with frustration. “So, who’s this fucking client you’re meeting tonight?”

Y/N glanced at him, taken aback by his abrupt tone. “Just a potential client, Logan. Why does it matter?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he paced the room. “It matters because you’re going out again. And every time you go out, I fucking worry. You don’t see the problem here?”

Y/N’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and irritation. “You’re seriously doing this again? This is a professional meeting. It’s part of my job. You can’t just flip out every time I leave the house.”

Logan’s frustration was barely contained. “It’s not just about you leaving. It’s about who you’re with, where you’re going. Every fucking time I see you with someone else, I lose my mind. I can’t stand it.”

Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. “Logan, this isn’t healthy. You’re crossing boundaries. I need you to understand that I’m not some possession you can control.”

Logan’s face flushed with anger, his voice rising. “Control? Fuck, Y/N, this isn’t about control. I care about you—more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And it’s tearing me apart to see you with other people. I fucking love you, but this shit is driving me insane!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and exasperation. “You can’t just use ‘love’ as an excuse for this behavior. Your obsession is suffocating me. It’s not fair to me or to you. You need to get a fucking grip on yourself.”

Logan’s anger morphed into desperation. “I don’t know how to stop it. I can’t control these feelings. Every time you’re out with someone else, it feels like I’m losing you. I fucking hate it. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Y/N’s expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained. “I get that you’re struggling, but your feelings are hurting both of us. You need to deal with your jealousy instead of letting it control you. This isn’t a healthy way to handle things.”

Logan’s voice broke with frustration and regret. “I know. I know it’s not right. I’m trying to fucking deal with it, but it’s hard. I love you so much, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. But I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. It’s like I’m losing a part of myself.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered by a note of compassion. “You need to find a way to manage these feelings, Logan. We can’t keep going like this. It’s eating away at us both. I need you to get help or find a way to handle this without letting it ruin everything.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll try—fuck, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. But I need your help. I need us to work through this together.”

Y/N’s gaze held a mixture of relief and determination. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and establish boundaries. If we don’t, this will just keep spiraling.” Logan nodded, his expression a mix of hope and apprehension. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I just want us to be okay.”

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Logan’s behavior had hit a breaking point. It wasn’t just about his discomfort anymore; it was clear that his obsessive and controlling tendencies were wreaking havoc on both his professional effectiveness and his relationship with Y/N. The last straw came during an intense argument, which forced Logan to face the harsh reality of his situation. Y/N, frustrated and exhausted by his increasingly intrusive behavior, had finally pushed him to seek professional help.

Logan was hesitant. The thought of spilling his deepest insecurities to a stranger was daunting. But he knew something had to change. His first visit to Dr. Lee, the therapist Y/N had recommended, was marked by a palpable sense of dread. The office was a stark contrast to the chaos in Logan’s mind: soft lighting, calming colors, and comfortable seating created an environment that felt foreign to him.

Dr. Lee, a middle-aged woman with a welcoming smile, greeted Logan with a warm tone. “Hi, Logan. It’s good to meet you. Y/N told me a bit about why you’re here. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Logan sat down in the plush armchair, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, uh, I’m here because I’m really fucking up. I’m working as a bodyguard for this woman, Y/N. And lately, I’ve been way too overprotective. It’s messing up my work and screwing up my relationship with her.”

Dr. Lee nodded, her expression open and encouraging. “It sounds like you’re dealing with some complex emotions. What specifically has been troubling you about your interactions with Y/N?”

Logan’s frustration was evident in his voice. “It’s like I’m obsessing over her safety to the point where it’s consuming me. I can’t stand the idea of her being around other people, especially men. It drives me fucking crazy.”

Dr. Lee leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle yet probing. “It sounds like your feelings of jealousy and control are pretty intense. Have you noticed any specific triggers that make these feelings worse?”

Logan thought for a moment, his hands fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s mainly when I see her interacting with other guys, like at social events or when she’s working with them. I get this surge of anger and possessiveness, and I can’t manage it.”

Dr. Lee responded thoughtfully. “Jealousy and possessiveness often come from underlying insecurities or fears. Can you think of any past experiences that might be influencing how you feel now?”

Logan’s gaze grew distant as he reflected. “I’ve had some shitty relationships in the past. I guess I’ve always been scared of losing something valuable. Y/N means a lot to me, and I think my fear of losing her is driving these intense feelings.”

Dr. Lee nodded in understanding. “Past experiences can definitely shape our current behaviors. One approach we can take is to work on identifying and addressing these underlying insecurities. We’ll also explore strategies to help you manage your emotions and develop healthier relationship patterns.”

As the sessions continued, Dr. Lee used a mix of cognitive-behavioral therapy and mindfulness techniques. Each session began with a review of Logan’s recent experiences and emotions. Dr. Lee would then guide him through exercises designed to challenge and reframe his thought patterns.

During one session, Dr. Lee introduced a mindfulness exercise. “Logan, let’s try a mindfulness exercise to help you become more aware of your emotional triggers. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Notice any sensations or thoughts that come up without judging them.”

Logan followed her instructions, his breathing slow and steady. Dr. Lee continued, “When a thought or feeling arises, acknowledge it and let it pass. This exercise helps you observe your emotions without letting them overwhelm you.”

After the exercise, Logan spoke with a sense of calm. “I can see how this might help me manage my reactions. It’s like I’m more aware of how my emotions are affecting me.”

Dr. Lee responded, “Mindfulness can be a powerful tool for recognizing and regulating emotions. Alongside this practice, we’ll work on developing strategies to address the insecurities that fuel your possessiveness.”

Y/N, meanwhile, was struggling to maintain her sense of autonomy. Logan’s intrusive behavior was causing her frustration, and she was working on setting clear boundaries. One evening, after a particularly tough day, she invited Logan to a café they both frequented. She hoped the neutral setting would facilitate a productive conversation.

As they sat down, Y/N looked at Logan, her expression a mix of determination and exhaustion. “Logan, we need to talk. I’m really struggling with your behavior. It’s affecting my work and my personal space.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m fucking up. I’ve been seeing Dr. Lee, trying to deal with this shit. But I know it’s not enough. I need to hear it from you. What do you need from me?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice steady but firm. “I need you to respect my boundaries. You can’t control who I interact with or how I handle my work. You need to manage your emotions and stop letting them dictate your behavior.”

Logan’s voice was filled with regret. “I get it. I’m trying to deal with my feelings, but it’s fucking hard. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though her frustration remained. “I appreciate that you’re trying, but it’s a two-way street. I need you to take concrete steps to address your behavior. It’s not just about saying sorry—it’s about making real changes.”

Logan nodded, his face a mix of hope and determination. “I’m committed to making changes. I want us to be okay. I’ll keep working with Dr. Lee and do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Y/N’s eyes held a note of resolve. “That’s a start. But we need to set clear boundaries and communicate openly. If we don’t, this situation will just keep spiraling.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath. “I understand. I’ll work on it. I just want to get things back on track. I care about you, and I don’t want my shit to ruin everything.” Y/N nodded, her gaze steady. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and stick to it.”

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

As weeks went by, Logan’s commitment to managing his possessiveness began to show real results. The therapy sessions with Dr. Lee were making a noticeable difference. Logan was learning to handle his intense emotions better and to communicate more effectively with Y/N. The transformation wasn’t overnight, but it was significant enough for Y/N to notice the positive changes.

One evening, after a particularly successful week where Logan had navigated social events and professional responsibilities with newfound composure, they decided to celebrate with a quiet dinner at their favorite spot. The restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and mellow music that set a relaxing mood.

Logan and Y/N settled into their booth, the ambience a stark contrast to the tension that once marked their interactions. Logan, usually so guarded, was now more relaxed, though there was still a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. As they enjoyed their meal, Logan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of sincerity and vulnerability, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I know I’ve been a total mess sometimes, but I’ve never been more sure about anything than how I feel about you. I’ve been working hard to get things right, and I want you to know that you mean the world to me.”

Y/N looked up from her plate, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Brooding Bodyguard?”

Logan’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, but he grinned. “It means that despite all the chaos, I’m ready to make it official. I want you to be my girlfriend. I promise I’ll try to be less of a mess and more of the guy who makes you laugh.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, light and genuine. “Well, I was starting to think you’d make me wait forever. I’ve actually been hoping you’d say something like this.”

Logan’s face lit up with relief and joy. “So, you’re saying yes?”

Y/N leaned in, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Yes, Logan. I’m saying yes. But just so you know, I’m holding you to that promise about being less of a mess.”

Logan’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll work on being the guy who makes you laugh and maybe the guy who gets to kiss you goodnight.”

Their conversation continued, filled with playful banter and flirtatious exchanges. Logan’s progress was evident not just in his words but in his actions. He had become more attuned to Y/N’s needs, more respectful of her boundaries, and more capable of managing his emotions. The following week was a whirlwind of events, each one showcasing Logan’s growth. At a networking event, he managed to maintain his composure even when Y/N had to work closely with a male colleague. Instead of the old pangs of jealousy, Logan was calm and supportive, offering encouragement rather than control.

Logan’s friends, who had witnessed his previous struggles, noticed the change. One evening, while hanging out with them, he was animated and relaxed, something they hadn’t seen in a long time. His friends joked about how they’d never seen him so chill before, and Logan laughed along, his newfound ease evident.

“Man, who are you and what have you done with the old Logan?” one of his friends teased.

Logan chuckled, a genuine smile on his face. “The old Logan’s still around, but he’s been getting some therapy and figuring his shit out. Things are looking up.”

Meanwhile, Y/N had started to see the positive impact of Logan’s efforts on her own sense of well-being. They spent more quality time together, enjoying each other’s company without the constant tension. Y/N felt more secure and appreciated, which only strengthened their bond.

One evening, after another successful week of navigating their evolving relationship, Y/N and Logan found themselves at their favorite café. Logan’s demeanor was relaxed and happy, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how far they had come.

“Logan, I’ve got to admit, I’m really proud of you,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth. “You’ve come a long way, and it’s making a huge difference.”

Logan grinned, reaching across the table to hold her hand. “Thanks, babe. I couldn’t have done it without you. Your support means everything.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and admiration. “Well, I’m glad to be here for you. And I’m excited about where we’re headed.” Logan’s gaze softened, his expression serious but filled with hope. “I am too. I want us to keep moving forward together. I’ve been thinking a lot about us and where we’re headed. I know I’m not perfect, but I want to be with you. I want us to build something real.”

[favoritebatfam]

OK, do you know how there’s so much age Fuckery in Canon?

I’m thinking that’s because no one actually has that many legal documents.

Dick Grayson was born in a circus. I don’t know if he was born in a hospital or if it was at homebirth, but it is also kind of likely and (I read it in a fic somewhere) where his parents lied about his age so that he could get away with performing.

Jason Todd was a crime Alley kid who is unceremoniously adopted. He is also still legally dead, and I feel like it is heavily debated in the family if you can count those months that he was dead as him living, or if they shifted his birthday somehow. Bonus points if you think about the post floating around that age resets after you end up in the pit so Jason is now the youngest.

Tim Drake uns so many secret identity scams, that I will not be surprised if he’s genuinely forgotten how old he is. I mean, Janet and Jack could’ve also done the same thing that the Grayson‘s dead and lie about ages so their son would be taken more seriously as an adult and just never remember afterward.

Damian Wayne tends to have more consistent ages, but I still think that his aging might be a little messed up due to the fact he was grown inside of a tube. This is straight from the comics. We don’t know if he came out as a baby, or he came out as a toddler. For all we know, he came out as like a five-year-old because Ra Al Ghul didn’t want to have to deal with his heir being weak.

With Bruce and Alfred, it’s a little hard to justify the age fuckery, but I’ve come up with some ideas things that might help.

I think that Bruce kind of stopped celebrating his birthday after his parents died. He might’ve picked up celebrating again after he adopted dick, but he probably doesn’t put any candles on a cake or anything or at least any number candle. Probably a lot of people have also forgotten how old he is, and a lot of the family are trying to look through newspapers to find out about Bruce’s birth. There could also be some sort of thing where there’s a debate about time travel counting towards his age and if he is older than he is supposed to be or younger or whatever.

Alfred just straight up immortal. he’s done so much in his life that it’s kind of hard to figure out how old or young he could be. I’ve seen a couple different theories floating around where He got blessed by some being, or if you go with the Gotham is sentient theory, Gotham is slowing both his and Bruce’s aging. Also, Alfred is very strong and has to be very fast in order to be able to clean all of the manner and not get sick or die.

Actually, this is kind of pointing towards maybe the bat family having so much to do with the general curses of Gotham or maybe even blessings from being safe, helped that they probably have fucked up ages. I genuinely don’t know. I am sleep deprived and very curious now and will probably make a skit later after I take a nap or look through more Tumblr posts.

Enjoy my ramblings.

[redrose10]

hi babes! from the picture game, could I maybe get something for image 3? thx ;)

Here is the second story for #3 from the picture game. I hope it’s okay!

Warnings: Pregnancy related stuff, getting hurt while pregnant,a little smut but nothing too explicit, swearing, fears of abandonment, mention of hospitals

One Month Pregnant

At this point you didn’t even know that there was a baby currently growing inside of you. You went about your day to day life as if nothing was any different. You were in your final year of college as a psychology major, you worked as an evening receptionist at the college front office, and you were madly in love with your boyfriend, Yoongi.

The two of you met in your chemistry class your first year of college when he took the seat next to you. You thought he was cute and the two of you would talk a little during class and then one day he shyly slid a note across the table to you, “Are you made of fluorine, iodine and neon? Because you are F-I-Ne.” You were a giggling mess while he blushed bright red and you were smitten ever since.

Two Months Pregnant

Missing one period wasn’t super unusual for you. It had happened in the past when you were really stressed and overwhelmed. Missing two periods though…that’s never happened. Still you held out hope that it was nothing but stress corrupting your body. Your classes were piling up work, you had picked up a few extra hours at your job, and you and Yoongi had been going through a rough patch.

He was just as stressed if not more than you thanks to his classes and working at a record label while also being the captain of the basketball team. You’re sure it was just stress and once you could get past this then your cycle would return to normal. But just to be safe you grabbed a pregnancy test from the pharmacy on your way home.

When the timer went off with shaking hands you picked up the test off the bathroom counter. “No no no…this can’t be happening.”, you whispered while looking at the screen that said positive in big bold letters. How did this even happen?

Then you remembered the night. Yoongi had missed the third date in a row. You were furious when he finally came home. You knew he was stretched thin and was trying his best but it still hurt that you seemed to always get the short end of the stick. You yelled and cried and pleaded. He yelled and cursed and then pushed his lips onto yours. His hands roamed your body leaving goosebumps as they went. You wanted to be mad. You wanted to shove him off of you and curse his name but you missed his touch so badly that you gave in. You needed him and it seemed like he needed you just as much. Finally getting the intimacy you both needed seemed to mend the relationship for the time being.

And now here you were pregnant with his baby. You didn’t know how he’d react. You knew he wanted kids but when he was much older and more established, he had made that clear in the past.

You heard the front door open and shut and Yoongi calling your name that he got pizza and to come eat dinner.

So you decided to wait. You wrapped up the test and shoved it to the bottom of the garbage can while making sure to dispose of any other evidence. You walked into the living room where Yoongi had already set out the pizza and was looking for a movie to put on.

“Here I got you this beer to try. I think you’ll like it.”, he said handing you the can. You panicked. “Oh uh thanks but I think I’ll stick to water today.”, you chuckled grabbing a glass from the kitchen. “You always have beer with your pizza?”, he questioned. “Yeah I just have a bit of a headache.”,a lie but not really because you could feel one coming on. Thankfully he didn’t question it any further just hitting play on the movie and putting a piece of pizza on the plate in front of you.

Three Months Pregnant

“Maybe we should get you to the doctors.”, Yoongi said rubbing your back as you were bent over the toilet bowl for the second time today. Last week you had blamed a sketchy piece of fish as the reason for your stomach problems. This week you weren’t sure what to say but you knew he was getting worried. You couldn’t tell him that it was morning sickness from the baby currently growing inside you.

“No I’m okay. I think just need to drink more water.”, you winced at the sound of your voice. He helped you get cleaned up and back into bed before settling in next to you and rubbing circles on your belly. It was moments like these that you fell even more in love with him.

“You have to tell him. Even if he does get mad he deserves to know.”, your best friend Jimin said while sitting next to you in the waiting room of your doctors office.

“I will. I promise I’ll tell him. Just not right now. The basketball season is starting soon and I don’t want to add more stress to him.”

“Maybe he’d want to be here instead of me. Did you ever think about that? Maybe he won’t be as upset as you think and will want to be here to support you. He loves you Y/N. I don’t think he’d just abandon you.”

You nodded, “I know. I…I just don’t want to risk that right now in case he does.”

Jimin gave your knee a squeeze, “You know you’ll always have me no matter what anyways.”’

You sat on your bed staring at the sonogram of your little gummy bear as you were calling them. They were so tiny and barely there but they were there. You’d heard the heartbeat, nice and strong. As scared as you were about this whole uncertain situation you knew you had to stay strong for them.

Four Months Pregnant

The morning sickness was finally subsiding and you were feeling better. No more trying to come up with lies for Yoongi. But then one morning after your shower you were smacked in the face with a sudden realization and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought about it before. As you stood in the mirror running your hand over your forming bump all the nausea returned. How were you going to hide your growing belly from Yoongi? He knew your body better than you did and he’d surely notice. Luckily the weather was getting cooler as the season changed to fall meaning you could hide underneath large sweaters and hoodies which should buy you another couple months you hoped. Besides, now that the basketball season was in full swing you knew you’d be seeing less and less of Yoongi anyways.

But tonight wasn’t one of those times. You were in your usual spot wearing his, thankfully much larger than you, jersey while cheering him on. The game was close but you knew he would lead them to victory. And when the final buzzer sounded he ran over to get his usual post game kiss. You were patiently waiting when he was stopped by a woman who gave him a hug to congratulate him. The rational and logical part of your brain knew that Yoongi would never cheat on you to begin with but especially not with Sera. She was like a little sister to him having grown up together thanks to their parents friendship plus she was engaged to some guy named Taehyung. But hormones were a bitch, especially pregnancy hormones and you couldn’t control the tears that started welling up in your eyes.

“Y/N what’s wrong?”, he gasped frantically running over to you.

“Nothing don’t worry about it.”

“You’re crying. Baby what happened?”, he asked again.

“I said nothing!”, you hissed before storming away leaving him standing there shocked and confused.

One of the great things about Yoongi is he would never chase after you as long as he knew you were safe. So when he saw you walk over to Jimin who gave him a nod meaning he’d get you home Yoongi sighed before heading to the locker room.

You were grateful when he got home a couple hours later and wrapped his arms around you pulling you flush against him in bed. It seemed like he had completely moved on from your little outburst earlier which you still felt bad about so you cuddled in closer and gently lulled yourself off to sleep to the sound of his breathing.

Five Months Pregnant

“Congratulations, you’re having a little girl.”, the doctor pointed towards the screen to show you your daughter. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. “Oh this kid is going to be a spoiled princess.”, Jimin joked from the seat next to you.

“I’ll print off a few photos for you. Go ahead and get cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”, the doctor said handing you a towel before leaving the room. Gently you wiped away the gel from your belly the best that you could.

“Are you gonna tell him now?”, Jimin asked immediately souring your mood.

“Yeah I will Jimin. I promise.”

“That’s what you said before but you still haven’t done it. Y/N, he needs to know. Plus I love you and I already love that little girl but I don’t have much room left in my tiny apartment to hide any more baby stuff.”, he chuckled.

“I know I know. Thank you again for letting me store it there. I’ll tell him soon. I’m not going to be able to hide this bump much longer any ways.”, you sighed as he helped you off of the table.

Tonight was supposed to be the night. You were finally going to tell Yoongi about the baby. In your bedroom closet sat a box and inside the box was a cute little onesie with a pink tutu attached. In glitter the front of it said ‘Daddy’s #1 fan’ and on the back it said ‘Min with Yoongi’s basketball number below it.’ You thought it was the cutest thing and thanked Jimin profusely for coming up with the idea and helping you put it together. You also added one of the sonograms to the box because there was no way he could be mad when he saw that or so you hoped.

Luck was not on your side though because instead of a quiet dinner at home you were sitting at some loud bar on campus trying your best to avoid any smoke or drunk idiots that were stumbling around. Yoongi had wanted to meet up with one of his good friends Namjoon and his girlfriend. You really didn’t want to be there but he seemed pretty set on it so you went knowing your surprise would have to wait a little.

“Congratulations, can’t wait to meet the little nugget.”, Yoongi smiled. You nodded along, “Yeah congrats.” Namjoon and his girlfriend had just told you they were expecting a baby. Your heart warmed at how excited Yoongi seemed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After goodbyes were said and you were back in the car with Yoongi’s hand securely wrapped around yours he began the drive back to your apartment.

“I’m happy for Namjoon. He seems really excited to be a father.”, you said to test the waters. Maybe you could still surprise Yoongi tonight.

“Yeah I’m happy for him but man I am so glad it’s not me in his shoes.”, he chuckled.

Ouch. That was not what you wanted to hear.

“Oh well I mean don’t you want kids?”, you pushed.

“Yeah absolutely one day. Maybe in like ten years or something but I 100% do not want them right now. That would be like the worst possible scenario, you know? I’d rather be the cool Uncle that fills them up with sugar and teaches them bad words and then drops them back off at their parents so they aren’t my problem any more.”, he laughed before looking over at you for a similar reaction.

You forced a giggle, “Yeah you’d be great at that.”

When you got home you took the box and shoved it as far back in the closet as you could before piling up a couple blankets and some clothes over top of it. That would have to wait until another time.

Six Months Pregnant

You cheered until your throat was sore. Yoongi’s team was playing their rivals. The score was too close for comfort but Yoongi was having the game of his life. He’d already broken the school record for most steals in a game and was just three points away from the record for most points scored in a season.

His teammate Jungkook passed him the ball but there was no clear shot. He passed it over to Hobi. Eight seconds left in the game. Hobi took the shot but it bounced off the rim rebounded by Yoongi. He dribbled back out to the three point line. Three seconds left on the clock. He took the shot and the ball swished into the net with ease getting him another record for the books just as the buzzer sounded. His team rushed him with congratulations. You were trying to get down the stairs to give him his post game kiss when some overly excited fans knocked into you sending you tumbling down a few steps. Yoongi sprinted over shoving the fans out of the way, “Y/N are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just embarrassed that’s all.”, you tried to smile and reassure him.

“How did they not see you? I fucking hate these people sometimes.”, he spat.

“It’s okay. It was an accident. Don’t let it ruin your celebration.”

He nodded and got his kiss, “Hey the whole team is gonna go out to get food and then probably head over to Jins for a party. Want to come?”

It did sound fun but you had other plans, “No go have fun. I’m pretty tired and just want to get some sleep.”

He looked dejected at your response, “Are you sure? We can just grab some takeout and head home together if you want?”

Quickly you shook your head, “No no go have fun with your friends. I’ll be fine I promise.”

He was hesitant but after checking with you again he gave you a kiss and sprinted back towards the locker rooms. You walked outside and pulled out your phone quickly dialing a number.

“Hey Jimin, can you take me to the hospital please?”, you whispered once they answered.

Jimin was there in a flash and took you to the emergency room where you were quickly hooked up to monitors after explaining to them about your tumble at the game. Thankfully everything checked out and other than a little soreness in your lower back you and baby girl were healthy and doing fine. Jimin had a lot he wanted to say about why he was at the hospital and not Yoongi but after the fright you just had he decided to let you get by this time.

Seven Months Pregnant

It was becoming increasingly harder to hide your growing bump from Yoongi. Especially because he was starting to become frustrated sexually. The first few times he tried to initiate anything you’d lie and just say you didn’t want to even if it was all you were thinking about too. It was either your period or you were tired or had a migraine. He would never ever consider forcing you so he’d always drop it at that. You knew it wouldn’t work forever though so then you started offering to take care of him but you’d still always refuse when he tried to return the favor. Again being the gentleman that he was he never forced you but he was starting to get concerned maybe even a little hurt that you always rejected him.

You had a feeling that tonight was going to be the final straw for him though. He’d been very touchy since he got home, leaving soft kisses on your neck, brushing past you in the kitchen you so you could feel how badly he wanted you. You wanted him too but you knew if you removed the extra large sweatshirt you were wearing he’d definitely notice how much your belly had grown and question it.

You were down on your knees with him leaning back on the bed grabbing onto a fistful of your hair. You were working extra hard hoping you could get him to finish before he could even suggest doing anything else. But Yoongi had incredible control over his orgasms. Something you once loved and praised him for but was now the cause of your misfortune.

He gently tugged on your hair getting you to let go of him with a loud pop. “Y/N, you gotta stop.”, he chuckled, “I want too…no I NEED to be inside you. It’s been way too long.”

Fuck. What do you say? You used the period excuse last week so he won’t believe that. If you fake another headache he’s gonna end up forcing you to go to the hospital. You thought about giving in and keeping the sweatshirt on but Yoongi was a boob guy so you knew that wouldn’t last long. You could tell him you were insecure about gaining a little weight (not a complete lie) and don’t want him to see you but you knew that would only motivate him more so he could prove to you how much he loved you and your body.

“Y/N?”, he questioned due to your lack of response.

“I…I uh…I… I need some water.”, you squeaked before getting up as quickly as you could these days and heading towards the kitchen.

You were chugging a glass of water when Yoongi walked in with his sweats hanging low on his hips and a t-shirt in his hands.

“Y/N, I want you to be be honest with me. Are you…are you not attracted to me any more?”, he whispered.

Your eyes widened, “Of course I’m still attracted to you Yoongi. That has nothing to do with it.”

“Okay so then you’re cheating on me? If you found someone else just tell me. You don’t have to go behind my back.”

You saw red and this time it wasn’t just the pregnancy hormones. How did he have the nerve to accuse you of cheating? He was the one with women on campus constantly throwing themselves at him even with you standing right there. He was the one who had away games in other states while you were back home not knowing what he was up to. He was the one going to parties without you the last few months. He was the one that was always coming home late because he had practice or was at the studio which you never questioned even though he could’ve been with anyone doing anything. You trusted him. You’ve been torturing yourself keeping a major secret from him trying to protect him and here he is accusing you of cheating.

“You think I’m cheating on you?”, you scoffed.

“Well you’ve been getting more and more distant. You flinch anytime I touch you and we haven’t fully had sex in months. What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to think that maybe I’m going through something. Maybe I just need your love and support and you should be there for me. Not accuse me of cheating on you.”

“Y/N wait.”, he tried to stop you but you were already down the hall on your way to the bedroom. You dug through the closet until you grabbed the box you’d been hiding and stormed back into the kitchen shoving it into his chest not caring that the contents inside were probably shaken up and no longer perfectly in place.

You didn’t say anything. You just turned and walked back to the bedroom to wait. You waited hoping that Yoongi would come find you. Even if he was angry and yelling you didn’t care. You just didn’t want him to leave. And then you heard the front door open and slam shut. The sound causing you to break down into tears.

After a while with no word from him you brushed yourself off and went to the kitchen. You knew you had to eat something to keep up your energy and get some nutrients for baby girl plus there was a small part of you that thought maybe Yoongi hadn’t even opened the box. Maybe he left because he was angry over what happened earlier and there was still hope. But in the kitchen you found the box torn open. The sparkly pink tissue paper tossed around and the onesie just hung over the chair. The sonogram laying face down on the floor. You felt devastated so you grabbed some water and made a quick snack before retreating to your room.

When you woke up the next morning Yoongi was sitting at the table, he was staring at the sonogram between his fingers. At least he came back home you thought.

“I’m sorry I left. I just needed some time.”, he said when he noticed you.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you came back.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?”, he asked offended.

“Well I don’t know what to think to be honest.”

He sighed with an eye roll, “Well I’m so glad that my girlfriend and the mother of my child thinks so highly of me. Is that why you didn’t tell me until now?”

“Yoongi, you barely have time for me. You’re so stressed all the time. I was scared to add more to it. You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want kids after we found out about Namjoon. I was scared that if I told you then you’d leave and I couldn’t handle that at the time. I thought I was doing the right thing. I’m sorry okay.”

Yoongi looked at you with such disdain it made you cower. You had never seen such a glare from him.

“Where are you going?”, you said charging after him when you realized he was already half way to the bedroom. You found him in the closet stuffing some clothes into a bag.

You began sobbing, “Please don’t leave. Please Yoongi. This is exactly what I was afraid of.”

“Y/N, I’m not leaving you or this baby but I think I need some space.”

“Wh-What do you mean space? Like you’re breaking up with me?”

He shook his head, “Y/N, you hid something major from me for like seven months. I missed doctors appointments. I wasn’t able to be there the first time you heard her little heartbeat. You fell down the bleachers at my game and didn’t even tell me then. What if something happened to you or her and I wasn’t there? You took all of that from me all because you didn’t trust me enough to know that I would be there for you no matter what and that hurts a lot too.”

By this point you were inconsolable, sitting on the floor. Yoongi walked over and crouched down in front of you. Gently he used his finger to tilt your head up to look at him, “Y/N I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving this baby. I think we just need a little time apart and then we can sit down and talk about this when we’re not so upset. I don’t want to say or do anything that I will regret.”

You sniffled, “I’m sorry Yoongi.”

“It’s okay. I know you are. I’m gonna stay at the studio for a few days. Call me if you need anything.”, he whispered before placing a kiss on your forehead. You couldn’t stand to watch him leave so you kept your eyes on the floor until you heard the front door lock shut and your tears started in full force again.

Eight Months Pregnant

It was easier than you thought it would be without Yoongi. It probably helped that he texted you throughout the day to check on you. He had food delivered every time you said you were too tired to cook, even including a delivery of chocolate ice cream when you said you were craving it.

Tonight though, his team had a basketball game. It was the first home game you weren’t sitting on the bleachers for since the two of you started dating. You thought about going but a big part of you figured he wouldn’t want you there right now since he wanted space. So instead you were sitting on Jimins couch with a package of chocolate chip cookies while you both watched the game on tv. Jimin had made sure to tell you he told you so about the whole situation but every time you almost started to cry he reminded you that you weren’t alone and he repeated what Yoongi had told you about not leaving.

The camera panned to Yoongi as he was getting ready to shoot a free throw. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and maybe even a little thinner than the last time you saw him. Luckily the team they were playing sucked and his team was still winning because he was not playing up to his usual abilities as the ball didn’t even hit the rim. You felt terrible as if it was your fault.

After the game was over and they managed to squeak by with a win the camera caught Yoongi looking around the arena. You started to cry when you realized he was searching for you to get his post game kiss. He had expected you to be there and you weren’t. You cried because you had let him down again. Jimin drove you home as you sobbed the whole way there.

When you finally got in bed you saw that Yoongi had texted you,

“Are you and the baby okay? You missed the game.”

“Yeah sorry about that. I didn’t think you’d want me there so I watched it at Jimin’s instead.”

“Oh okay. I just wanted to make sure.”

You decided to leave the conversation at that and it seemed that he was content with doing the same because you didn’t hear from him again until the next evening.

Tossing your shoes aside you sighed happy to be home. You had picked up a few extra hours here and there to give yourself some more money before you went on maternity leave.

Your heightened sense of smell easily picked up the heavenly aroma of kimchi fried rice, an absolute favorite of yours and you smiled because the person that made it the best in your opinion was your boyfriend.

Sure enough there was a huge pot sitting on the stove still steaming but there was no Yoongi to be found. You started walking around the apartment and you saw his shoes, phone, and jacket so you knew he had to be there.

Checking each room you finally made it to the bedroom where you found him. Your heart shattered at the sight. He was sitting on the bed clutching some of the newborn outfits that Jimin had dropped off. You saw his shoulders shaking up and down as he cried into the fabric.

“Yoongi.”, you said after knocking so you wouldn’t startle him too much. Quickly he wiped his eyes and sniffled, “Sorry, I didn’t think you were gonna be home so soon.”

You knew the best thing to do with him was to allow himself to work through things on his own before he opened up and talked to you. So that’s what you did. You sat there and rubbed his back as he continued to break down and cry next to you.

“I’m scared Y/N. What if I’m not a good dad? I can’t even be a good boyfriend.”, he hiccuped.

“Oh Yoongi, you’re going to be a great dad. The fact that you’re even worried about it shows that.”

“I don’t know how to take care of a baby. I don’t have any money saved up. I work constantly. I’m trying to get through school.”

“Hey we’re going to get through it together. We’ll figure it out as we go but I know this baby will be loved and supported no matter what. That’s what is important.“, you whispered hoping to comfort him even a tiny bit.

He started to relax a little under your touch leaning his head onto your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I left. I was just worried that I would say something I didn’t mean…like when I accused you of cheating on me. I’m sorry.”, he said finally looking at you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought I was making the best choice but I know now that it wasn’t.”, you also apologized.

He gave you a tiny nod which you knew meant he accepted it and was ready to move on.

“Yoongi give me your hand.”, you suddenly gasped making him jump.

“What?! Are you having the baby?”

“No no just give me your hand.”

He did and you took it placing his hand on your right side. You’re pretty sure your little girl was trying to break her way out of you right then and there.

“Do you feel her?”, you asked smiling at him.

His eyes were the widest you’d ever seen them.

“That’s her moving?”, he questioned still in awe.

“Ooohhh there she goes again. I think she likes hearing your voice.”

Yoongi pressed his hand a little firmer against you.

“Wow, she’s really in there.”, he chuckled with you following behind.

Yoongi kneeled down in front of you placing little kisses on your belly. Your little girl kicking away.

“Hey little one. I admit I feel kind of silly doing this right now but it feels right. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much. I needed to get myself together so I could be the best daddy I could for you. I can’t wait for you to get here. I’m probably going to make a lot of mistakes and do things you don’t like but I promise I’m only trying to protect you and help you grow up so that one day you can be just as amazing as your mom. Now go ahead and settle down so she can eat and then get some rest. I’ll talk to you later.”

You bit your lip trying not to cry. Your daughter was already a great listener because she quickly subsided her movements giving you a little break. You ate and took a nice long shower before crawling in bed with Yoongi wrapping his arms around bringing a sense of comfort and safety that you’d missed for so long.

Nine Months Pregnant

“Alright Jimin, jump in.”, Yoongi said stepping back to give him some room. You held your breath as you watched your best friend gingerly climb into the crib to test it out. It was a suggestion by Yoongi claiming he wanted to make sure he had put it together properly but you think he just wanted an excuse to make Jimin climb in there and get some funny photos.

“Okay now hold these.”, Yoongi snorted handing over a rattle and a baby blanket. You tried to stifle a laugh when Jimin aggressively snatched the items out of Yoongi’s hands but still posed for the photo anyways.

You were sitting in the rocking chair busy going through the boxes of things putting them away and getting organized.

“Does a baby really need this many clothes?”, Yoongi asked when he finally got a good look at everything.

“Yes!”, you and Jimin exclaimed simultaneously.

“Really? So a newborn needs 35 different bows in various colors and patterns?”, he said holding them all up.

“Yes!”, you both exclaimed again completely serious. Yoongi accepted defeat with a laugh and started placing things wherever you pointed to instead.

“Heart beat sounds great. Everything looks good.”, the doctor said rolling the wand over your stomach a few more times to make sure. Yoongi stared at the screen in amazement. Since he found out, he had come to every doctors appointment even skipping practice once much to the anger of his coach.

“Now Y/N your due date is next Thursday. She could decide to come earlier. She could come later. It’s really up to her. But if you start having contractions or especially if your water breaks you should get to the hospital.”

You nodded and asked a few more questions before bidding goodbye and cleaning up. You noticed Yoongi had been unusually quiet. Normally he was asking all kind of questions, even the ones you were too embarrassed to ask. It was honestly adorable how involved he wanted to be.

“Hey you good?”, you asked as you walked back to the car.

“Yeah I uh. I guess I never thought to ask about your due date. And uh she said you were due next Thursday which is the same day as the championship game.”

“Oh…well like she said she could come early or late. We’ll see… and even if she does come on Thursday you should go to the game.”

Frantically he shook his head, “Absolutely not. I’m not missing the birth of our daughter for a basketball game.”

“Yeah but Yoongi it’s not just any game. It’s the championship and your last time playing in it before you graduate.”

“I don’t care if it’s the NBA finals. I’m not going.”

Secretly and maybe a little selfishly you were happy to hear him say that.

“Let’s not worry about it right now. We’ll take it day by day.”, you replied instead.

He nodded before giving your hand a kiss.

“Min Yoongi has the ball, he passes to Kim Mingyu, he shoots he scores!!!! We’re only down by one point. Can they pull out the win? Time out called.”, the announcer said as everyone in the arena was on edge. You were sure it was just excitement mixed with stress and the tacos you had for lunch but you were definitely starting to get uncomfortable. A small part of you thought that maybe you should start heading towards the hospital but there was only twenty seconds left in the game and you were determined to stick it out.

The teams entered back onto the court. Yoongi scanned the crowd for you. You gave him a thumbs up ignoring the stabbing pain in your side.

“The ball is inbounded. Bang Chan has it. Sixteen seconds on the clock. He’s passes to Hwang Hyunjin. Ohhhhh Nooooooo! Stolen by Min Yoongi. He’s dribbling up the court. Defenders are surrounding him. Eight seconds left, five seconds. He pushes his way through. The shot is up AND it’s good!!!! Min Yoongi has just scored the winning basket!!!!!”, the announcer and crowd went crazy. You ignored your pain long enough to clap before doubling over.

“Jimin we need to go to the hospital.”, you hissed grabbing onto his arm.

“Oh. My. God. Okay. What was the plan? Did we have a plan? Why didn’t we make a plan?”, he panicked while bouncing up and down.

“I’m going to start heading towards the car. You go get Yoongi and tell him we need to go.”, you groaned through a contraction, also regretting not making a better plan beforehand. Slowly and steadily you made your way to the car hoping Jimin could accomplish his task.

“Hey congratulations Yoongi!”, Jimin exclaimed when he finally got to the court.

“Thanks man! Here take a photo of me with my medal.”, Yoongi said handing over his phone.

“Of course!”, Jimin gleamed snapping the photo. He checked it over, “Oh wait your eyes were closed. Let’s get another.”, which he quickly snapped.

“Where did Y/N go?”, Yoongi finally asked.

Jimin jumped in panic, “Oh that’s right. She’s in labor.”

“What?! You just left her alone?! Where is she?!”

“Walking to the ca…”, Jimin tried to say but Yoongi was already sprinting at full speed in that direction.

“She’s so perfect. I lover her so much.”, you smiled while staring down at your sleeping daughter wearing her daddy’s #1 fan outfit that Yoongi insists she wears most of the time.

“Me too. She’s growing up so fast. I can’t believe she’s already a month old.”, he whispered turning off the light.

“Yeah and I can’t believe you made us hang up that picture in her nursery.”, you chuckled pointing at the wall where a photo hung of Yoongi proudly showing off his championship medal. It stuck out compared to the pictures of puppies and kittens that surrounded it.

He shrugged, “One day she is going call me lame and then come in here to get away but then she will see that photo and be reminded of how cool her dad was in college and then she’ll come find me and apologize and then we’ll go get ice cream together and everything will be okay.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but gave him a kiss, “Yeah I really don’t think that is how it’s gonna work but it’s cute that you think way.”

[samsno1]

Hi, idk how often you do requests but could you do a mid season Sam fic. The reader is with the FBI with the unexplained cases and she meets the brothers. It would be funny if they tried to convince her that they are also with the FBI and she somehow catches them in their lie. They work together in the case and Sam and the reader end up falling for eachother. Thanks you so so much!!!!

Caught

Sam Winchester X F!Reader

this took me so long to write i'm so sorry. i don't reeeeally like the ending but i did the best i could. i hope this is what you expected bby <3

Summary: You were assigned a complex case and you end up meeting two very weird men who were, apparently, also FBI agents but...why are they named after famous rockstars?

Warnings: FLUFF, descriptions of murderer, murder scenes and violence (usual supernatural shenanigans), sam is an 'intimidating woman enjoyer™', use of Y/N, the writer (me) has no idea how fbi works because she isn't an USA resident, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

W.C.: 8,8k

enjoy!

You had climbed the ladder in the world of criminology considerably fast considering your age. Getting into the FBI in your late 20s was probably one of your biggest achievements and, of course, men tended to make disgusting comments about how such a young woman got such a difficult job – including claiming you opened your legs to get this far. You didn’t mind, actually, it added to your ego to be above those guys – as if they even deserved to be in a job that required empathy towards the victims.

Still, even your superior was shocked at the case he found. A couple had been killed inside their room without any signs of forced entry. All doors and windows were locked and nothing inside the house had been stolen; the bodies seemed to be torn apart from the inside out since there were no knife or bullet wounds and he put you on the case. He thought you would have the abilities to deal with something like this – ‘you’re a prodigy’ he had said – and the guts. The crime scene was absolutely vile; there was blood everywhere and their faces had the skin peeled off to the point their cranial bones were visible. You had seen some stuff, but nothing like this.

The first thing that you did when you got to town was talking with the local police so that you’d learn more about the town’s history with murderers – especially the unexplainable ones. They told you something close to an urban legend: the house that the couple was renting was cursed according to the locals. Decades ago, three kids got killed by their parents in rage, who committed suicide afterwards. They never found the kids bodies and the case went cold after a few years, the police giving up on finding their remains. You found that absolutely unacceptable, giving up on children like that should be a crime, but it wasn’t up to you. Ever since the assassination, every person that rented or bought the house died in unexplainable ways and the police had started to practically ignore or do the bare minimum on the case.

“We’ve been having problems with that house for years” Said the sheriff, a man with a grown out beard, deep eyebags and average height. Not what you would expect for a sheriff given his dismissiveness towards you and the mess his office was. “The previous sheriff also received complaints from townsfolk regarding the place but we could never find out anything. There were no clues, no suspects, just…nothing” He finished, his arms waving around tiredly.

“This is probably why they put the FBI on the case” You said to yourself, guaranteeing the man wouldn’t hear you. You took notes on your notebook, your legs crossed as you sat in front of the sheriff, his table between both of you. You could sense his eyes on you and feel his unasked question floating around in the air. “Anything else, Sheriff?” You asked, looking up from your notes.

He seemed to wake up from his thoughts, shaking his head lightly at you. “No it’s just…Why do you need three FBI agents to work on this?” He asked, on edge, a worry line prominent in his aged face as he squinted at you. Three? You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned back on the chair, closing your notebook.

“I’m not aware of the other two working alongside me” You say. You thought about what your boss had told you and didn’t remember him saying anything about partners, especially two. You usually worked alone most of the time, functioning better on your own. Then again, this was a difficult case, maybe they thought it was better than one federal agent working on this.

“They came by earlier today, asking about the same house and the murderers. They were tall, one of them was…very tall and had long hair. The other one was less serious and, honestly, unprofessional. I think they said they were agent Page and Plant” The sheriff filled you in and now this seemed like a joke. You raised an eyebrow. You had a peculiar taste in music considering it was the 2000s and your father barely listened to anything further than the 90s, resulting in you growing up to know most of the rock bands that were at their highest from the 60s to the 90s. That included Led Zeppelin. And it would be too big of a coincidence for both guys to work together with last names such as those.

“I’ll talk to them about the case, thank you very much Sheriff” You say, raising yourself from the chair and extending a hand to politely shake his. You walked out of his office with a question in your mind and thought about looking up Page and Plant on the database to see if anything showed up when you got to your room tonight. For now, you had to take a look at the crime scene while it was still daylight.

–

Your car’s engine died down as you turned the key. You opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, adjusting your suit over the white button down you wore underneath. You shoved your car key in your pocket and, when you looked up, you saw another car that easily stood out from the others around the street – a black Chevrolet Impala which you couldn’t guess the specific year just by looking. It was a very beautiful car and you secretly praised in your mind whoever owned it – it seemed well taken care of.

You walked to the crime scene, taking your badge in hand to show it to the police officer that took care of the place when you saw two men, also in suits, talking with one of the officers – two tall men, one had longer hair. The officer approached you as you got closer and you simply showed your badge to him before he nodded and lifted up the ‘crime scene’ tape for you to go underneath. You ducked down and mumbled a thank you as you made a beeline towards the two guys.

You wondered what you were going to say and how you were going to question them about their identity without seeming like you’re assuming anything. As you walked closer, they were finishing their conversation and were turning to leave making you almost bump right into them. They stumbled back and you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Who are you?” The shorter one asked you and you took the badge out of your pocket again with a sigh, making sure he reads your name and sees the picture of you that clearly stated you were a federal. He hummed and looked towards his partner, a silent conversation going on between them. You interrupt.

“And you?” You ask and they get their own badges out. You extend a hand to the taller one, silently asking you if you could take a look at it. He gave it to you willingly, which was one less red flag to take into consideration. You looked through everything and it all seemed alright…until you looked at the name on the bottom. Jimmy Page. Is this serious? You look up at them with a judging look and you see the tallest swallow harshly. “Your parents were big Led Zeppelin fans I assume” You say.

“Yeah, yeah they– ha– they were” Jimmy says in a way that’s not believable at all, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The shorter one closes his eyes and shakes his head discreetly in disappointment – which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give Page his badge back and turn to – apparently – Plant.

“I didn’t know that I would have partners in this case, but maybe it’s for the better. What did you find out about the case? Just so we are on the same page” You look between both of them. Plant nudges his partner in the ribs and, before mumbling somewhat of a curse to Plant after practically jumping in place, Page starts to explain to you about their side of the investigation. He seemed professional enough, with a notebook in his hands as he told you everything they could make up from what they knew so far, even sharing with you his assumptions. You were impressed as you started telling him about what you thought – a weird case, too many murders, few clues…Plant stayed quiet most of the time until about halfway through your conversation he said he was going back to his car and you took that as a hint to call it a day.

“Well, I think we are going to work well together, Agent L/N” Page says with a polite smile and you nod, smiling yourself. You took one of your cards where your professional number was written on along with your name and offered it to him. He gently took it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Just in case you have anything else to share” You said and he nodded, a strand of his hair falling over his face, which he mindlessly put back with a brush of his hand. “It was great meeting you, Agent Page”

“You too” He said and, sensing the end of the encounter, you started to walk back to your car. You still couldn’t shake the thought of those two being too suspicious for your liking and you were determined to look them up and see if Agents Jimmy Page and Robert Plant actually existed. You walked fast, your heels knocking against the concrete and you didn’t notice Page’s eyes on you, lost in the movement of your hair as you walked away. What woke him up from his trance, though, was his partner honking and signaling for him to hurry up. He rolled his eyes and walked to his own car, stealing one last glance at you. You turned your head back right on cue, giving him a polite smile and a small wave. He awkwardly waved goodbye back and started to walk to the honking Impala.

You had assumed the unknown car belonged to them and you had written down the plate in your notebook discreetly – just in case. You were impressed by their ability – well, Page’s ability – to analyze crime scenes but you weren’t stupid. You couldn’t just erase the fact that you had no idea who those two were and you were determined to find out, one way or another.

–

Meanwhile, in the Impala, Sam got inside the car in the passenger’s side, almost hitting his head on the roof – like he did most days. Dean was impatiently waiting for him to get in until he saw something clasped in his brother’s hand, his eyes quietly scanning the white paper. In Sam’s distraction, Dean reached for it before he could react. “Hey!”

“You got her number? Wow Sam, never thought of you like that” Dean teased as he looked through your name written in cursive writing and your phone number right under it. Sam snatched the small card back from his brother and shoved it in his pocket, glaring at Dean.

“Shut up man, this is her professional number, she gave it to me so we could talk” He defended as he put his seatbelt on. He mindlessly brushed a hand through his hair again, getting it out of his face as he heard Dean chuckle to himself as Baby’s engine roared to life. Sam looked back to his brother and waited for more teasing to come – as it always did.

“Yeah, talk.” He said, the double meaning in his words floating around in the air but being ignored by Sam. Dean pressed his foot on the pedal so the car would start to move as he shifted into gear. “Besides, she’s an actual FBI agent, don’t you think she’s going to suspect that we aren’t?”

“Dean, I did go to law school, I can manage my way out of this” Sam said with a mischievous smile. He really thought he could, he knew he was smart and he was a damn good liar – he lied in college for a very long time about who he was and what his family did. Not something to be proud of but it came in handy, especially when both him and his brother were in trouble. He had practically lied his whole life about who he truly was, not entirely giving away specific details – especially those who involved his family. Sometimes he regretted it – like he did with Jess – but it was always safer not to know, for both parties. Or so he thought.

“Don’t think she’s stupid–”

“I don’t think she’s stupid–”

“Let me finish” Dean scolded, raising a hand to silence his brother, his eyes still on the road. It was often funny to pay attention to their brotherly behavior and how anyone could know who was the oldest just by these simple interactions. Dean raised his hand and Sam silenced, listening, like how it was when they were kids. “Don’t think she’s naive, she is in the FBI, working alone on a case. I don’t know much about federals but I’m sure that’s not for everyone”

Sam stayed quiet. He knew Dean was right but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Still, he really didn’t think you were stupid, it was impossible to. The way you talked about the case in detail, relating your point of view and what you could gather in a few hours was more than enough evidence to show him you deserved this job more than anyone. He wasn’t used to seeing women in this field, but everytime he did he was convinced that men were definitely unfairly placed higher. Yet, he still didn’t want to get arrested again so he needed to convince you that he and Dean were legitimately federals.

The conversation drifted away in another direction as Sam stared out the window and replied to the small talk Dean made with him every now and then – when he didn’t crank up the volume once Metallica came into the radio playing Creeping Death while they were talking. With a chorus of ‘Die, die!’ being sung by Dean while he beat his hands on the steering wheel to the drum rhythm, Sam’s mind drifted away and he fell asleep with a head against the window, the tiredness of sleepless nights catching up to him.

–

These fuckers. You thought to yourself as you stared mouth agape to the pictures of who you learned were actually Sam and Dean Winchester – not Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Two brothers, presumed dead a couple years ago.

Your coffee sat cold over the wooden table of the hotel you were staying the night at. You had already changed into your pajamas and taken a hot shower when you decided to take a look at the case again. Two hours later you remembered the two men you encountered and, when you looked a bit deeper in the police files, the results were horrifying. It actually wasn’t that hard to find out about them, a quick look through the FBI database and you found their exact faces – even if Pag- Sam’s hair was relatively shorter then now. You were beyond pissed, especially at yourself, how could you not have known this? How could you let yourself get played like this? Just because the tall guy was a bit of a nerd and kind of cute? Ugh!

You started pacing around your room, not knowing what to do. Confronting them could kill you, they were murderers after all, according to the database, they had killed civilians and federal agents equally as much. You were strong, both physically and mentally, but there was no way you were escaping two guys that were over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds each. You had to play smart, you had to catch them in a weak moment and then. Bingo. You stopped in your tracks and – like a lightbulb lightened up above your head – you had the perfect plan. You had to wait until the next day for you to execute it but it was going to be worth it. You sent their mugshots to your phone through your e-mail and any other evidence that you could use against them.

You still felt slightly weirded out about them. They didn’t seem dangerous, they didn’t freak out the moment they saw you and they were confidently adding to the investigation with actual useful analysis. You were looking deeper through their files and found out they lost their mother in a fire at a very young age – the youngest wasn’t even one year old yet – and their father had died a couple years ago, in ‘06. They had a pretty sketchy life, living off stolen credit cards and fake identities but something interesting you found out was that Sam Winchester actually went to college, he went to Stanford and your eyes widened at that. You wondered what made him quit, maybe his father dying and his brother needing him, maybe he got kicked out, still, going to college after having a childhood like that was more than impressive.

You kept reading about them until the late hours of the night and you only noticed you fell asleep over the papers you left on the table and your computer when a phone ringing startled you awake. The noise echoed inside your head and, as you lifted your head, the sunlight getting into the room through the curtains hurt your eyes. You only noticed how bad you’d slept when you felt a pain shoot through your neck and down your back as you turned your head to look for the phone – great. You groaned and felt around the table with your hand until you felt the square shape of the device and its humming. You clicked to answer after slightly clearing your throat so you’d seem less sleepy and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello, Agent L/N speaking”

“Hey Y/N, how are things going?” The voice of your boss made you unconsciously straighten your back and swallow harshly. You looked at the time on your computer and your heart fell to your stomach. 11:36AM – shit! 

“Hey Sir, everything is running smoothly. I’m currently collecting evidence and later I’m going to the morgue so I can look through the autopsy”

“That’s great, you always do a great job kid” He said and you could feel him smiling on the other side of the line. You felt bad for kind of lying but you had been worrying about other stuff last night.

“Thank you Sir, I’ll report back to you as soon as possible” You reply.

You talked for a while longer as you disclosed the case and, when he finally hung up, it was already past noon. As you got ready for your day, doing your daily morning routine as quickly as you could, you felt your stomach rumble when you got out of the shower, reminding you that you hadn’t had breakfast. You decided then that it was better to stop at a diner or somewhere so you could eat something to go on with your day – since it was already lunchtime you couldn’t necessarily call this brunch. You finished getting ready, putting on your shoes and grabbing the keys to your car while you looked up the closest place to eat something quick.

You drove to the nearest diner that had a decent rating and stopped at the parking lot. When you looked around, you couldn’t believe your luck – or rather the lack of it. The infamous Impala was parked a couple meters from you in all its glory. You audibly sighed but you couldn’t just find another place to eat as quickly, besides, you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Maybe eating at the same place as them was actually a good strategy. You grabbed your wallet and locked your car, confidently walking towards the diner entrance.

The bells dinged above your head as you got in, some eyes looking your way with the noise – including Sam’s. Him and his brother were sitting in a booth in the far corner of the diner, Sam turned in the direction of the door and Dean facing away from it, in his brother’s direction. Sam had his laptop open in front of him as he ate a salad, Dean was eating a burger. Thay had probably been talking before you came in because when you came through the door Sam went quiet as he looked over his brother’s shoulder and Dean kept talking, hunched over his food. You couldn’t listen to their conversation but you gave Sam a slight smile and a nod, your stomach turning as you faked sympathy, as if you didn’t just friendly greet a murderer. He nodded back and that's when Dean slightly turned to look behind him and see you, nodding as well.

You started to walk towards their table, the weight of your hidden gun on your hip more than evident. Just keep calm, you were trained for this. You decided to keep to yourself that you knew their true identity, after all, you were one step ahead of them and, deep down, you knew they could be useful. Their intelligence was beyond impressive – faking your death wasn’t something easy to do. You stood above them with a gentle smile.

“Hello agents, mind if I sit with you?” You asked as politely as you could. Sam scooted almost instantly, changing the placement of his laptop to the side of the window. You didn’t miss the eyebrow raise his brother gave him.

“Hey Ms. L/N. No, not at all, make yourself comfortable” He said, smiling at you. He has dimples you mentally stated.

“Yeah, please” Dean agreed, stretching a hand to the seat beside Sam. His voice was slightly muffled thanks to the food in his mouth and you internally cringed as you could see the chewed food when he talked.

“Thanks. No need to call me by my last name, you can just call me Y/N” You simply said as you sat down, looking almost immediately to the computer screen open in newspapers that dated a couple years back. Murders in the same house all with the same time frame from each other. “I see you work even while you were supposed to be on your break, careful not to burn out Agent Page” You said, looking at his side profile. He seemed embarrassed as your sweet voice got to his ears and awkwardly laughed.

“You know…you don’t need to call me Agent Page, that is just an alias, call me Smith, Sam Smith. That’s Dean Wesson” He said. Huh, claiming aliases, smart move Winchester. “And yeah, I’ve been taking a look at the history of the place, apparently–”

“It’s timed killing” You finished. You scooted slightly closer, pointing your finger to the screen where the date of the newspaper was written at. “Every two years on the same date someone was brutally murdered in the house.”

“Yeah and inside the same room too” Dean pointed out. That you hadn’t noticed. A waiter coming to get your order interrupted the conversation you three were having to get your order. You quickly looked through the menu deciding to eat the quickest and most nutritious stuff there could be at a diner. You thanked the boy that took your order and he walked in long strides towards the kitchen. You came back to the talk you were having with the two brothers and Dean continued. “The master suite. And always couples, someone seems to hate true love” He joked.

“Apparently. Have any ideas for suspects yet?” You asked. If you were going to play pretend you might as well acquire some useful information with it. The boys shared a look between them that they thought you wouldn’t catch, but you weren’t FBI for no reason.

“None yet, still looking into it” Sam said, suddenly seeming on edge, shifting his placement on the booth. You were good at reading body language, it was one of the main qualities that got you in the FBI, interrogating criminals was easy exactly because they couldn’t lie. When you learned their behavior and played your way into their head it destroyed them because even if they were silent, even if they didn’t say anything, you knew what they were lying about – flinching when you mention a certain name or changing the leg they were crossing under the table when you named an address. So, Sam couldn’t hide from you earlier, imagine now that you were inches away.

“Really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and turning your torso slightly more in his direction, leaning your elbow on the table. He was trapped. You thought about confronting them here, questioning them about their identity in public but you thought better – they definitely had guns on them and two beats one. Either way, you’d put him in a challenging situation, confronting him without even disagreeing verbally. He felt intimidated and now seemed unsure of his own conclusion – how you loved playing these games.

“I mean there’s barely any clues” He laughed nervously. “I was going to call you to see if you had any idea”

“I don’t either, as you said, no leads” You said. The waiter arrived with your food right then and you politely thanked him, drifting away from the conversation you were having with Sam as you started to eat. This time you weren’t paying attention and Dean questioned Sam with a look. What is she on? And the youngest shrugged. You swallowed your food with a pleasant hum, just now noticing how hungry you truly were. “I was thinking we could go to the morgue, if you haven’t already. Take a look at the bodies, see if we find anything”

You were purposefully playing right into their game, faking cluesness and at the same time taking advantage of their abilities to solve the case. It was more important to you to solve whatever was going on to bring peace back to this town than to arrest the brothers who were supposed to be dead. You’d learned that men tended to believe that you were stupid very easily, that you had no idea what you were doing and you started using that to have your way with them. With big doe eyes and feigned innocence you could get very far.

“That’s where we were going later actually. It’s good if you tag along” Sam tells you.

“I would even if you didn’t want me to” You said, joking, but not really. Your tone was humorous  but your smile was bitter. They didn’t seem to notice though and Sam even chuckled slightly at your sarcasm. You noticed the dimples in his cheeks and how boyish his smile was, full of bright white teeth and sincerity. You almost felt bad for being rude until you remembered they were killers – even if they didn’t look like it. Sam didn’t seem the type to brutally murder someone, Dean seemed too stupid to be able to get away with it for so many years, even faking his own death and walking around normally – you’d bet he was the one with the idea to put the name of famous rockstars as FBI aliases.

By the time the conversation was over, so was your food. You left enough money for the bill and a tip and stood up from the booth. “Okay, well, let’s go, we have a lot to do today boys” You said, adjusting your suit, unnecessarily dusting it off. You eyed Dean’s plate, the mess he made similar to how a child would eat. You would have laughed if you were in a more friendly situation. You looked at Sam and with a smile you said: “Don’t be late pretty boy, I’ll be waiting for you”

Then you turned around, politely nodded goodbye to Dean and started walking away, holding back a laugh. Sam stood still, stunned as he stared at you walked out the door, the bells above you ringing twice – one for when you pulled the door, the other after you let it smoothly close behind you. Dean was staring too, his bright green eyes filled with confusion. Once he turned to look at Sam he saw his younger brother completely zoned out, looking in the direction where you once were. He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face, who immediately looked at Dean.

“Pretty boy?” Dean questioned, holding back a smirk as Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dean…”

“She’s got you man. I get it, strong and intimidating women, I understand, I understand”

“That’s not it, she seems…off” Sam points out, looking at the door once more to make sure you wouldn’t come back and leaning closer to unnecessarily speak in a lower voice to Dean. “I think she might be an it, the monster we are looking for”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“The way she’s acting is, I don’t know, weird”

“Look Sam I know you’re not used to having women hit on you but that doesn’t mean they are monsters” Dean teased, Sam gritted his teeth.

“Dean, I’m serious!”

“Okay, alright, we are going to investigate then” Dean said, raising his hands in fake surrender to his brother’s scolding. “But it doesn’t make sense to me. Didn’t we consider it to be a vengeful spirit?”

“Maybe, or maybe we are dealing with something completely different”

“Alright smart-ass, but if you’re wrong you owe me a six pack”

Sam scoffed but he wasn’t one to turn down any bet. He had thought your behavior was weird the moment you stepped foot in the diner. The questions you asked, the way you would constantly question his abilities, there was something going on and he could sense it. Besides, he liked betting with Dean, especially winning, so there was no way he wasn’t accepting his brother’s challenge.

“Deal” Sam said, hitting his palms against the table and standing up, ready to leave and go to the morgue. Dean followed his movements and stood up with a cheeky smile, taking out his wallet to pay for the food.

–

At the morgue, you waited about 5 minutes until they arrived. When they walked up to the entrance you were waiting at, Sam and Dean saw you in a much more serious state as you read through your notes and made annotations here and there. The noise of their footsteps made you look up and put your little notebook back in your pocket and place your pen behind your ear. You crossed your arms in front of your body and waited for them to get closer. Your heels were starting to hurt the bottom of your feet from standing too long in the same place and you were overwhelmed with different emotions – towards the men and yourself.

You weren’t necessarily scared of Sam and Dean, you were trained not to be, but it was never in your plans to be alone in a city with federal criminals, it would be downright ignorant not to be at least nervous with the situation. You were keeping yourself friendly without giving away any hint that you might know who they were, debating internally which would be the worst case: if you confronted them or stuck beside them for longer – what’s that say again? Friends close, enemies closer.

“Hey, Y/N” Sam called you and you turned your lips upwards in some-kind of a smile. He mirrored your expression and you caught his dimples again, your eyes wandering around his face. You broke the stare when Dean cleared his throat and, when you looked at him, he had his eyebrows furrowed, giving Sam a side-eye – more like a diagonal one, since, well, Sam was a big guy. In your own trance you hadn’t noticed how Sam was also looking at you like you were a beautiful piece of art – damn it, focus.

You also cleared your throat and that seemed to wake Sam up. “Hello Sam, Dean” You said, nodding to each “Shall we go inside? The longer we take the further the killer goes, come on” You turned your back to the and started walking inside the morgue. Dean waited until you walked further and held Sam by the elbow, making the youngest look at him in confusion.

“Stop that” Dean whisper-yelled.

“Stop what” Sam whispered back.

“Whatever your eyes are doing, I’m gonna puke if you keep that up”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You stop it, you’re reading too much into it”

“Hey, you are the one that said she might be dangerous and, honestly, you are kind of a monsterfu-”

“Dean!” Sam pushed his shoulder to shut him up.

“C’mon you were hypnotized, maybe that’s what she does, or you are just in love” Dean shrugged his shoulders, holding back a grin. He loved making Sam mad.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s go now or do you have any other stupid remarks?” Sam didn’t wait for an answer as he followed the direction you went in. Dean mocked his brother, mimicking Sam’s words to himself in a high pitched tone and went along.

You were already putting your gloves on when they came into the room, the dead bodies laying before you - or at least what was left of them. The lower part of the couple’s bodies was covered beneath the pale blue blankets and both torsos were exposed. It was an awful sight and, if you were about ten years younger, you would’ve puked. Everything was dilacerated, they were practically disfigured, their faces barely recognizable. Huge gashes adorned their bodies that even cleaned up still looked absolutely vile. Behind you, Dean hissed.

“Wow” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, very brutal, whoever did this wanted them to feel the pain” You said, snapping the latex gloves against your wrist and grabbing the file about the autopsy in your hands. You skimmed through the words and placed it back on the table where it previously was, turning back to the bodies to see Sam already looking through them, Dean putting on the blue gloves the mortuary offered. You approached Sam’s side and crossed your arms as you watched him work, his hands roaming through the deep rips on the skin, he seemed to come to the same conclusion you did. “It’s not a clean cut, see” You pointed out and he nodded, turning to you.

“Yeah, the skin is–”

“Ripped, not cut” You paused “How can someone do this and just…get on with their lives?” You thought out loud. You discreetly looked up to Sam’s face to see if he had any reaction to your words, to see if his face faltered when you mentioned how psychotic it would be to keep going after killing someone, to see something, anything…

His face was blank.

“You’d be shocked at what…people can do” Sam replied. He seemed to hesitate before saying ‘people’, a hard swallow, a thought behind his eyes and you marked that in your mind for later.

“Sam, I work in the FBI too you know, I’ve seen shit” Maybe you were harsh, maybe you were just defensive or maybe the years of being brought down by men in your field made you snap at his words when they weren’t that deep. He seemed to catch on to your aggressiveness and stumbled over his words to try and reword his phrase.

“No– I-I know it’s just– I mean–” He couldn’t get the words out. You softened at that, noticing your defensiveness was, in fact, exaggerated. You chuckled at him and waved your hand dismissively.

“I get what you meant” You said and he seemed to calm down, giving you a slight smile. Dimples. Again. You turned back to the bodies in front of you and reached for your pocket to get your notes. You started patting with your other hand for your pen through the other pockets and when you didn’t feel the distinctively cylindrical shape of the object you started to freak out. Where’d I leave it…

Sam noticed your squirming and when he saw the notebook in your hand he knew exactly what you were looking for. He held back a chuckle as he watched you try your hardest to remember where the pen was, the concentration in your eyes almost touchable.

“Hey” Sam called and you turned your head to him. He reached his hand up, close to your cheek and you could sense the heat radiating from his body. You froze in place as you thought that you were caught, that Sam’s intelligence overpowered yours and he figured out that you knew who he was. Well, you were wrong. Sam caught the pen you had put behind your ear between his fingers and slid it off of it, watching as your hair fell back into place. You wanted to bury yourself whole inside the ground as you felt heat spread through your face. “Here” He said, with a cheeky smile.

You took the pen out of his hand, your fingers brushing lightly against each other “Thanks” You mumbled. You started writing away what you figured from the autopsy but you couldn’t get your mind off of how close Sam had gotten. The warmth that he emitted was captivating, comforting even. How could you even think that? You were a professional, what the hell! You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you had a job to do, lives to save. Sam was a killer, you put killers in jail. That’s it.

“Okay so…” Dean spoke up, breaking your embarrassment “...We can discard any murder with weapons like guns or knives, those can’t do…this” He made a face and pointed towards the wounds. You nodded in agreement as you wrote it down. When you looked up at them again they were sharing a look, having a full conversation without even speaking. You weren’t a professional in facial expressions but you could read the room, you were being kept in the dark about something. You decided against confronting them, unneeded drama in the current settings because, indeed, the longer you took to solve this case, the closer the killer was to killing other people.

“So, I have no idea if you already did but I didn’t look further in the room where the murder happened. I think I’m going to go back to the house and see if the local cops missed anything” You said, not waiting for an answer as you pocketed your notebook again and started taking off your gloves. You didn’t request their company as you were, first, still trying to figure out why they were so adamant about solving this case, second, you had to figure this murder out, and third, you needed to find a perfect moment to confront both of them. “See you around agents”

“See ya” Dean waved at you as you walked away, Sam didn’t say anything. You knew they were going to follow you, you felt their silent conversations lingering in the air as you left the room, discarding your gloves. In your head you could see them communicating with lifting eyebrows and shrugging shoulders – they were so obvious; and predictable.

–

“We are going after her” Sam said to Dean after he heard you leave. Dean nodded as he started taking off his own gloves, side eyeing his brother. Dean wasn’t stupid – he only acted like it – he knew that there was more than one reason for Sam’s eagerness to follow you.

“So…” He started and Sam knew there was something he might not like hearing coming. “Are you going to play the brave soldier saving the damsel in distress?”

Sam stopped and looked at Dean, absolute confusion adorning his features. “What?”

“Man c’mon, you can’t be thinking that she is the monster now can you? Look, I did the tests while you were…pining over her” Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean didn’t let him speak. “There was holy water in her drink at the diner, the utensils she was using were pure silver…”

Sam was shocked that his brother thought that quickly, he didn’t even notice…Okay, maybe he was infatuated by you a little too much.

“She could be a ghoul,” Sam argued as a last resort.

“Already looked her up, no one that has that beautiful face has died around here. I’ve looked through the FBI database too, she’s there” Dean said. Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the tiniest bit of relief knowing that you were really human. You were, in fact, beautiful, stunning even. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he did like you, a lot.

“Guess I owe you that six pack then” Sam said.

“Hey, I get the six pack, you get the girl, seems like a fair trade” Dean said, raising his eyebrows tauntingly with a cheeky smile on his face. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Either way, we have to go after her because if this ghost decides she’s next on its list, we need to get there before she gets hurt” Sam said in all seriousness as he started walking out of the room, going towards the exit. Dean followed suit, the Impala keys already on his hand.

–

They arrived at the house a minute or two after you. You were waiting in the house’s living room as you heard the rumbling of the old car’s engine. You had your weapon ready and loaded as you heard them open and close the door of the house. As soon as they turned the corner, you lifted your gun.

“Stay right fucking there! Don’t you dare move or else I’ll actually kill you, for good this time!” You screamed at them, gun in hand pointed towards Dean’s head. They widened their eyes and stopped all their movement. Sam opened his mouth to try and talk and you shifted the gun to point at him instead. He shut his mouth again and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You were fuming, anger making your hands shake lightly.

“Did you really think you were going to fool me? Who do you think you are– Better, who do you think I am?” They stood as still as a rock. “Sam and Dean Winchester” You said their names, venom running through your tongue as you did, your gun pointing respectively at each. “You better start talking or I’m popping your heads off, speak!”

“Okay, okay, look we can explain” Sam started.

“You fucking better”

“We are not dead” He said and you looked at him like he was stupid. “Me and my brother we faked our deaths but we had a reason, a much bigger reason”

“You killed people”

“We didn’t, at least not intentionally, we do the exact opposite, we save people Y/N”

“How? The deaths are there, if you are telling me the truth and really save people you do a terrible job at that” You countered. You admitted you only said this to get under their skin because if anyone knew that saving everyone was impossible was you, a federal agent.

“Put the gun down and we can talk” Dean spoke up, talking to you calmly and moving his hands slowly to try and reason with you. You were reluctant but something in their eyes, their actions towards you didn’t indicate any imminent danger. Maybe you were being stupid and, at the end, you’d be lying in a ditch, lifeless, left there to rot but you wanted to give them a chance.

“If you try anything funny I’ll claw your eyes out with my bare hands” You said and Dean, even shocked, nodded slowly – you were exaggerating but you felt the need to. You sighed and put your gun back in the waistband of your pants and saw the boys breathe in a deep breath of relief.

Sam and Dean exchanged those looks again and finally looked at you. Sam was the one you wanted to talk to, you felt deep, deep down that he was going to tell you the truth and that he was actually a good guy, that all that he did until now wasn’t just an act and he was really nice.

“Me and Dean we…We hunt monsters”

Well, now your hopes are shattered. What the fuck.

You just looked at him like he was clinically insane and waited for him to continue.

“I know it sounds crazy” Because it is “And it probably is but it’s the truth, we don’t think whatever killed that couple was a human, this is why there’s no DNA, not a single clue and why the case is hard. I assume you were assigned it because you are smart and a good agent but this is not your kind of case”

“It’s ours” Dean added and Sam agreed with a nod.

You were dumbfounded. They sounded so serious as they explained to you about the tons of different supernatural beings that existed, things you only ever heard of in fictional books and horror movies. Halfway through the talk you looked physically sick, your face pale and eyes dissociated completely and Sam quickly got a chair, ushering you to sit down. He was looking at you with such a guilty expression, like he felt bad for lying to you.

Once they stopped talking you spent a good five minutes absorbing it all as you stared at your hands folded over your lap. You thought you knew things, you thought you could solve everything, that all you needed to do was analyze everything to its minute details and you’d find a solution. Truth is, you were completely oblivious all this long, so many things that you had no idea existed causing trouble around the world, things worse than humans could ever be. You were an idiot.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after a while, making you look up at him. “I know it’s a lot to process…” He said, carefully laying a hand over your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m going to be fine” You said harshly. Sam felt the slight disappointment in your voice and frowned as he looked down at you. He had seen tons of different reactions to ‘the talk’ but this one was one of the worst, where the person feels upset with themselves for not knowing about this sooner, the kind of reaction he saw mostly on authority figures such as cops and federal agents like yourself.

You stood up and his hand fell from your shoulder. You needed to make this right, paranormal or not, this was still your case and you were solving it one way or another.

“Show me how you do it” You said, turning to look at Sam. The phrase got Dean’s attention as well as a sudden tension fell upon the room. Sam looked at you with confusion “This case is still mine, I want to learn how to get rid of…whatever killed that couple”

Sam exchanged looks with his brother. “I don’t think this is a good idea Y/N, you can get hurt” He said. You rolled your eyes and stepped closer to him, less than a foot between the two of you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m a federal agent, you don’t get to tell me I’m going to get hurt when I literally hunt and kill people if needed” You said angrily pointing your finger at him accusingly “Your little Ghostbusters roleplay doesn’t scare me”

“Okay, can you two stop? Let’s get out of here and go study about the house to see if we find anything about someone who died here who might want revenge” Dean said, approaching and looking between the two of you. “Please”

–

After spending two hours in the nearby library you finally found something. The one responsible for the killings was someone named Alicia Meadows who died in the late 60s, not little kids – it seemed like even the own urban legend the locals passed around was wrong. She was a woman who lived in that house with her husband and kids. One night she found her husband in their bed with another woman and went crazy, killing them both with a shotgun and then shooting herself. Ever since then she’d been killing couples who stayed there, the trauma of the cheating made her assume that everyone who laid in that bed on the same date, every two years, she found her husband and his mistress was also having an affair.

You three soon found out where she was buried and, after the brothers explained to you and made you swear not to arrest them for grave violation, you were driving to the cemetery.

As Dean was digging up the casket you stood beside Sam. “Do you guys do this everyday?”

Sam looked at you with a smile. “No, sometimes we behead vampires too”

You looked at him wide eyed and chuckled. He laughed with you, his face looking ten times more beautiful under the moonlight and the fucking dimples, the damn dimples. Silence fell between you as the sounds of the night – and Dean’s digging – took over. You wanted to talk more, you wanted to know more about Sam because the little you thought you knew was actually a lie. He was nice and, according to the FBI files…

“You went to law school?” You asked him. He sighed. Well damn Y/N so much for breaking the ice, good job. 

“I did but…I went back to hunting soon after, you can’t run from this type of job you know?” He chuckled dryly. It was clear that was a sensitive subject for him to talk about.

“If it helps, you would’ve made a good lawyer” You smiled at him. “Besides, you look great in a suit”

He seemed stunned for a few seconds, were you flirting with him? He didn’t get to figure out because Dean made a dramatic pained sound as he straightened his back, breaking the casket open. The putrid smell of death rose and you scrunch your nose. Sam helped Dean get out of the hole and started showering the bones in alcohol and salt and you watched as Dean threw his lighter in making huge flames rise up. You jumped when it happened out of shock and Sam held your shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back, the flames roared loudly with what seemed to be the anger of the woman.

Dean started gathering their stuff and you turned to Sam. “So, is this it?”

“Yeah…pretty simple actually” Sam shrugged. He looked at the fire and you could see the flames dancing in his eyes. You found Sam handsome ever since you laid your eyes on him but now, after a whole day by his side, the light touches you shared throughout the day and the care he showed towards you you wondered if it’d be too bad if you kissed him right now.

“Sam” You called him lowly and he turned to you. You stepped closer and you could see his hands clenching and unclenching by his side, as if he was holding back the urge to touch you. Your faces were inches apart and you could now see every little detail about him. The light stubble that adorned his face and the blush of red in his cheeks that you didn’t know if it was because of the heat of the fire or because you were this close.

You smiled at him and in that moment Sam couldn’t hold himself back. He closed the distance between the two of you as one of his hands cradled your cheek and the other was gently placed on your waist.

You let one of your hands place itself on his neck as you reciprocated the kiss. It was electric and warm, his soft lips over yours felt like a sweetness you didn’t know you were craving to taste. Your heart was beating fast and Sam slowly dragged your body closer to his with the help of the hand he placed on your waist.

When you pulled away you slowly opened your eyes to look straight into his and let out a stupid giggle – like a teenager after kissing her crush. Sam chuckled back as his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly.

“I've wanted to do this ever since the diner” He admitted and you bit back a smile.

“Really?” You asked.

“Really”

The moment was interrupted when Dean honked the Impala, impatiently waiting for you two to finish whatever you were doing so he could go back to the room and finally sleep. Sam showed him the finger as Dean yelled a curse back making you laugh at their stupid teasing.

“Let’s go Sam, Dean’s impatient. We can finish our talk at the motel” You said, your words full of innuendo making Sam turn back to you. You knew you got him when you felt his hand squeeze your waist for a moment before letting go.

“Oh yeah?” He said with a grin, looking down at your mouth and back at your eyes. You nodded.

“Yeah”

A/N: Likes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading XoXo

[venmondiese]

THE KINSLAYER

based on nightwish's kinslayer aka aemond's theme ✧ gifs: /feodor-dostoevsky // jeonwonwoo

AEMOND COULD HEAR THE LOUD NOISES FROM THE BROTHEL. He could smell the filthiness from it. He could feel it deep in his bones. He could sense it in the depts of his soul.

Aegon was much more careless than he was. As if he knew that he was doomed, destined to the seven hells, he left himself enjoy the pleasures of terrenal life, hedonistic natures for a doomed man.

Aemond wanted to be correct. When he was a kid, he dreamed of great things. Second sons often got nothing. And he wanted to be someone.

His own grandsire, Baelon, could have been someone. He was to be King, if the stranger didn't take him to soon. He would have been King. A second son.

Jaehaerys was a second son. Maegor was a second son. Even Aegon the First was second to his sister Visenya. Yet it was destined for him to be the ruler.

He thought of himself as worthy. He really did. Aemond Targaryen, rider of Vhagar. It was not something to be taken lightly. Vhagar, ridden by Visenya, Baelon, Laena. All of them were second best too.

It wasn't killing Lucerys what bugged him. He could not care less for the bastard boy. It wasn't making Rhaenyra suffer, though it wasn't how he planned it. She wanted him tortured, she wanted him to be sharply questioned when he just lost an eye. She ran away, with her impecable kin, secured on Dragonstone.

He made a mistake. He felt the power of what the Velaryons boys did when they bullied him. He was worthy. He was a Targaryen. And Vhagar was backing him up.

But sometimes, he didn't think losing an eye was worthy. Hidding it to not scare ladies at court. Cut the eyelids open so he could incrist a sapphire, like Symeon Star-Eyes. He learned how to chop men with a long staff with blades at both ends, just like the legendary hero did.

He wondered if he just wanted to feel something. If he just wanted to feel as someone special, worthy again. If he did, maybe they would admire him, or even care for him. Did they not?

Aegon had his own mess. Helaena had her own mess. Daeron wasn't even near King's Landing. His mother was busy ruling as his father was busier rotting.

"It's okay, my prince." The female voice says, in an attempt of soothing him as her hand caressed his forearm, and he sighed, his head on her lap as he looked into the room.

Brothels, even dirtiest, could have bedroom for the highlors attending. Aemond's naked chest was warm due to the fire, but not thanks to the physical intimacy.

It was a vain attempt of comfort. Aegon had invited him, to cheer him up and to celebrate his new title as King.

'Celebrate what?' He thought. 'I just started a war'

It haunts his dreams. The knowledge of what he did. The burden, the burning.

Kinslayer.

He found himself doomed. Haunted by a hateful nature inside him. It stirred, it boiled deep on his soul. Kinslayer.

A war between kin. The first drops of blood om his hands, tainting his very soul.

It felt good, at the beginning. He tried to rationalize it. A mistake. Vhagar lost control.

Because she did.

Right?

She had to. Because he didn't. It was... teasing. The power of being on Vhagar was just his arrongace, his vanity acting. Not him. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him.

He couldn't even look at his mother on the eyes. He could less look Helaena, hearing her horrified little scream as she found out.

His eye hurt. The emptiness of it, the wound that never fully healed. He couldn't even cry properly, not even for makind or his own doom.

'You lost one eye. How could you be so blind?' His grandsire said.

A need to understand. But there wasn't a need to forgive. He won't do that, for he has no reason. His mother called the war a curse from Gods themselves. She prayed, and prayed. But there wasn't any sense or truth to be followed. He even started to doubt if this was about ruling the realm.

"Do I have to pay you?" He asks, slightly unsure. Vulnerable, even. He hated it.

He was not used to this. Using a whore for comfort. Aegon laughed when he excused himself, asking for a whore, and he even congratulated him, a loud cheer all over the table.

Now he laid naked, curled up as his head rested on her lap. Warmth. Cosiness.

"No, my prince. The King has it covered"

The King. It was Aegon. The same Aegon who bullied him, and used to mock him. His big brother. Now, he was the King. It was his biggest fear, and another curse.

Was this a curse for his own ambitions? For wanting what wad the destiny of his elders? For preparing to rule even if he wasn't even acknowledged in his father's mind?

He sighed. His hair loose, the eyepatch lost somewhere on the room. He felt the touch over his cheebone, going up to move his hair to his back, her hands caressing his hair and head, in a soothing manner as she didn't speak more. He prefered silence after his vulnerable moment.

Being with a whore felt like meeting an old friend. It scared him, it bugged him in the wrong way. But who else can he turn to? The Gods have abandoned him to his luck, and with good reason.

He would prefer having a wife do it. He wondered that if he had one, she would be gentler than this, cozier than this.

He craved the love. He never tried to actively persuing a lady at court, so he had no wife. He couldn't go back to Floris Baratheon, he knew he cannot. Not as a Kinslayer.

He liked to picture his wife as beautiful lady. He does not imagine especifics, he is not demanding on that sense. He imagines her beautiful as the maiden herself, gentle and caring. Not judging him, even if his new curse made him a monster. If he had offsprings, would they love him? Afraid of his lost eye?

He realised that he has to thank the Gods. For not having a wife, or offsprings to pass the curse on. To share the madness with them.

Praying was in vain, for who would hear him? A slayer of his own kin. The blood of his sister was on his hands. Of her little son, that he murdered.

He had prayed to the Father. For him to save a place for Aemond. There are no gods. Not by your side.

He soon realised, he was as well doomed. Second son, kinslayer, murdered of his own nephew, on the skies mounting their dragons. Just as Maegor The Cruel did.

He won't become an acknowledged second son. He won't be worthy, he won't be remember greatly. He won't be a hero, unless he dies greatly. And he knows it. He lusts for this game, and he falls for every lie of it.

He looked at the flames, as if they could answer something to him. As if they could show him what was ahead of him. How he has to act. How he'll die.

A war was yet to come, and he knows he'll fight it. For he has nothing else to lose. He curses the Gods. How was he supposed to know?

[deadlyangelofpurity]

I think the main issues with Viv's stuff is because she's trying to have it both ways. It's very evident writing is not her strong suite and it seems that Viv has this tendency whenever she makes a series ranging from when Zootopia was a thing to get sidetracked on something more interesting she created along the way and messes the story/premise she had.

It also seems like Viv never got out of that edgy teen phase and her writing stopped maturing. It's why when Viv tries tackling serious topics she can't be consistent because she wants this show to be a dark comedy but then also be wacky without bothering to space it out. It's why we're supposed to take Angel getting raped seriously but then laugh when Pentious gets dragged into the room. Viv should've taken a firm stance, either it's all a joke or it's not.

It's also probably why the shows are safe edgy as Viv clearly wants to tap into that audience but she's too much of a wussy to go through with it. Maybe if her show wasn't in Hell it could at least be overlooked but Viv has more of less turned Hell into furry Detroit with red scattered everywhere. I think Viv let's her favoritism get in the way of an interesting story and it's why Stolas more or less had his entire character overhauled for the sake of the ship in Season 2. In all likelihood the reason for this sudden change was because Viv had no idea how else she could sell wholesome Stolitz so she had to pull out every gun she had at the expense of the story and the premise itself. It's also why Ozzie, Fizz, Bee and Lucifer are legit softies because apparently it's Hell only works for antagonists, not for you know, actual Lords of Sin and hell spawn. It's even more baffling given her shows are meant for adults yet if feels that if you removed episode four from Hazbin and cut out the cursing this show could've been for edgy teens and it basically is, but Viv doesn't wanna catch flak for having her shows be for kids given subject matter has mature topics despite her terrible handling of it so we have this weirdly limbo where the shows is basically trying to have it both ways but it just ends up shooting itself.

[storywriter007]

do you do requests? if you do, can you do Leo x fem reader who is the daughter of Khione, she has ice powers and she has a very friendly, cheerful demeanor and is genuinely kind tends to smile a lot of the times although it does comes off as creepy sometimes, the reason why the reader smiles a lot is because just like Leo as a way of coping with her mommy issues and doesn't want people to worry

Fire & Ice - Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader

author's note: i do take requests :) and this is such a cute idea! like fire and ice, polar opposites, but they end up being the exact same. thank you for the request!

author's note 2: i didn't know if you wanted this to be fluff or angst, so i kinda did both (please send me more angst im internally dying writing all of this joy)

warnings: slight bullying, mommy issues, cursing

genre: angst ending in fluff

word count: 1.9k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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y/n gently braided the curly hair in front of her. she put a little elastic towards the end of the braid, and leaned back. it looked wonderful. beautiful brown curls cascaded down like a waterfall, and two cute little braids were at the top of the head.

"all done lay!" she smiled.

"you look beautiful," she said, holding up a mirror for the girl to see.

"thank you so much y/n! i loooove it!" she beamed, giving y/n a big hug.

"of course!"

she ran off, and y/n began cleaning up.

"surprised you didn't give the kid a brain freeze." a familiar voice laughed.

"nice to see you too, valdez." she rolled her eyes.

leo's smile died out whenever he saw y/n, and y/n's kindness turned into cruelty whenever she saw him. they didn't get along; not in the least. leo was a fire-producing maniac, and y/n was a snow-summoning psycho. their rivalry started when y/n was ice skating on the lake (after turning part of it into ice) and leo came up and set it on fire. y/n would've drowned if she didn't quickly skate away and create ice until she got to the grass. after that, y/n froze one of his favorite machines, and he spent days trying to melt all the ice off. they'd had it out for each other for two summers - ever since leo found out she was the daughter of khione.

leo was loud. annoying. funny on occasion. y/n was soft spoken. kind. caring. fire and ice. they were far too different.

"don't you have something to blow up?" she asked, meeting his brown eyes.

"yeah." he said, looking over at her cabin. "elsa's castle."

"i swear to god, i'm going to-"

"turn me into a rocket pop?" he grinned.

"i'm gonna freeze your bed. have fun sleeping outside for the week." she said, staring him down.

"that'll make two of us."

they both stormed away. gods, she couldn't stand him.

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evening struck, and as y/n made her way to the mess hall, she saw a little boy sitting all alone on a fallen tree. he had curly blonde hair. he was wearing a blue t-shirt and beige cargo shorts. he looked no older than twelve. he sat quietly, his face resting on his right hand. he looked upset.

"y/n, c'mon." one of her friends said.

"you guys go, i'll be with you in a few."

she made her way over to the little boy.

"can i sit here?" she asked.

"yeah." he said glumly, moving over.

"what's your name?"

"daniel." he said, not looking at her.

"tough first week, daniel?" she asked.

he nodded his head. new campers came in everyday, and it didn't get easier for any half-blood who stepped in the magical boundaries.

"it's alright." she reassured. "the first week is always the worst week."

"i've got no friends." he said shakily. "no one wants to talk to me."

he finally looked up and met y/n's gaze. she could see the scattered freckles on his face and the tears that were welled up in his light green eyes.

"what about your siblings?"

her voice was soft and calming.

"they don't wanna talk to me either." he said, defeated.

"i know." she sighed. "it's tough being new. but, uh, tell me dan, what do you like to do?"

"i-i like to draw." he said.

"that's so cool! i can only draw a stick figure, dear gods. what do you like to draw?"

"mostly nature and stuff. i draw a lot of animals and landscapes." he said, his tone picking up a little bit. "i have a sketchbook, if y-you want to see.."

his voice trailed off.

"i'd be delighted." she smiled.

the boy's eyes lit up as he rushed off and quickly came back with a sketchbook. he showed her all of his drawings and where he had drawn them. they were absolutely beautiful. they continued talking about the drawings, and daniel told y/n about all of the parks, lakes, and mountains he'd visited before arriving at camp. she could see he was feeling a lot better.

"don't you want to go to the mess hall?" y/n asked him. "get somethin' to eat?

"my siblings don't like it when i sit with them." he sighed.

"who said you have to sit with them?" she laughed. "sit with me. c'mon kid."

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after walking daniel to the ares cabin, y/n turned around and rushed to the camp headquarters for a counselor's meeting. she wasn't looking forward to seeing leo. as she walked into the very informal meeting room, his first remark was made.

"someone's late." he coughed.

the other counselors turned to look at her.

suck my dick is what she wanted to say.

"one of the kids wanted me to walk them back. that's kinda what happens when the younger campers actually trust you." she smiled, passive-aggresively.

"hey, they trust me!" he defended. "they love me."

"first you lie about your height, and now how much the kids like you?"

the crowd of counselors started laughing.

"don't encourage her guys." he said, so seriously that the crowd quit laughing. "she's gonna start singing 'let it go!'"

giggles and laughs burst out from every corner of the room as y/n felt her cheeks grow warm.

"c'mon johnny storm." she paused. "give them a real show and sing 'this boy is on fire,' won't you?"

he glared at her as more laughs erupted from the counselors. to them, it was all in good fun. to leo and y/n, it was the continuation of a war. just as leo was about to holler another snappy insult, their verbal sparring was interrupted.

"enough." chiron said, entering the room. "i've had it with you two."

the room stood quiet.

"yeah, y/n, pack up your shit." he snickered.

"i'm sorry for the constant misconduct." she smiled, trying to repair the damage. "i could fix it, if you'd let me turn valdez into a statue for my ice castle."

laughs erupted from more of their banter.

"go clean the stables." he ordered. "both of you, together. come back to your cabins once you've become friends."

"there's no way that me and evil frosty are gonna get along." leo protested. "we're gonna be there forever!"

shut up y/n wanted to yell. he was just making things worse.

"then i suggest you ask mr. jackson to teach you how to speak horse." chiron said firmly.

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y/n cleaned the stables while leo swept the floor.

"leo, could you pass me that-"

"no."

they had been here for four hours and leo had refused to cooperate. she was at the end of her rope with him.

"why do you hate me?" she asked, exasperated.

she'd wondered this ever since they'd got here. she assumed it's because ice and fire don't get along, but everyone at camp assured her leo would never hate anyone over something they couldn't control. especially, godly heritage.

"you got us stuck here!" he argued.

"you started it!" she countered.

their voices slowly rose as they yelled at one-another.

"you were late!" he continued. "and besides, i might've started it, but you ended it!"

"you started things with me from the first day i got here two summers ago! you tried to burn me alive! you threated to blow my cabin up! why!?" she asked loudly.

she was tired. she was sore. and she was sick of leo always being a douchebag.

"your mom tried to kill me!" he yelled.

"she tried to kill me too!"

"what?" he asked, his gaze softening and his voice lowering.

"nothing." y/n said, realizing what she'd just said. "nothing, just forget about it."

"y/n-"

"go to bed." she demanded. "i'll finish this by myself. not like you were doing anything anyways."

"you can trust me." he insisted. "please?"

"make whatever snide remark you were going to, and leave."

"please, y/n." he said, his voice low and steady. "what happened?"

"i was nine, and uh, my mother had decided she was done with me. she tried to freeze me, and uh, then she tried to stab me." she paused to say the next part. "and when none of that work, she uh-she tried to burn me."

"i'm so sorry."

"don't worry about it." she said, quickly plastering a smile on her face. "now it's your turn to answer my question. why do you hate me?"

"i-i don't. i never have." he sighed. "i figured you'd end up hating me regardless, so i just sealed our fate."

they stood in the silence of the stables.

"you started a fight with my because you assumed i would automatically dislike you? because you can summon fire?" y/n asked, it being her turn to be shocked now.

"yeah." he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "i thought you'd be some cold, icy, pessimistic bitch.

"ouch."

"until i saw you. how much you cared, and how much you smiled, and how much you made other people feel better. by the time, i realized you weren't what i had made of you, it was too late to turn back."

"leo." she said, unable to speak. "i care about people regardless. i would've never had a vendetta against you because you're a mini human torch. and even though you were convinced i hated you, i never did. i just played along."

"liar." he chuckled.

"when you passed out from exhaustion for forty-eight hours, do you know who monitored you each and every second? do you know who constructed your diet and recovery plan? do you remember the fuzzy voice telling you everything was going to be okay? because that was me."

"why?" he asked. "why are you so nice?

"i just want someone to stay."

they started at each-other for a moment. leo used humor and jokes to cover up the pain he felt. y/n used compensating kindness. they didn't want people to leave them, so they found something that would make them valuable: witty remarks and selflessness. they both covered up their profound pain and self-hatred with a form of fake happiness. they both had constructed a person who is only upset when no one is watching. and it was all because both of them didn't want people to worry, they just wanted them to stay.

"i feel the same way." he shared.

they weren't as different as they thought they were.

"i'm sorry." he said, sincerity in his eyes. "i misjudged you."

"i'm sorry too." she responded. "i held up my end of the bargain, didn't i?"

"i guess fire and ice aren't polar opposites after all." he smiled.

"i think they're identical." she agreed, reaching her hand out.

they shook hands, but didn't let go. leo's grip was firm on her hand. they looked into each other's eyes. leo pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers. his rough hands wrapped around her waist, as hers roamed his face and neck. it wasn't a needy kiss, it wasn't a passionate kiss, it was a "i'm glad you're here" kiss. leo felt her cold fingers move around his neck. it felt refreshing. y/n felt his warm hands around her waist. it felt comforting. after a few seconds, they pulled away, and laughed a little. y/n put her head on his shoulder as he held her tight.