#i genuinely want just like... TWO happy moments for them PLEASE

[thatmexisaurusrex]

I think what really gets me is what the show is telling us through that breakup. That's what hurts the most.

It's that a queer person who's sad, who's alone, who's never had a stable family life; a queer person who's only gotten to a point where they're happy with who they are later in life; a queer person who yearns for a family, for love, for being someone's first choice but doesn't believe he can ever have those things; a queer person who has obviously been burned and believes that is the only outcome for him now; that no one would want him as family. That no one would love him enough to choose him first.

He walks out that door.

Alone. Scared. Spiraling. Reacting to trauma rather than Buck himself. It's seeing that and having the show tell us, yes, that's what he deserves. That's all he gets. He doesn't get a happy ending. He doesn't get good closure. He doesn't get to believe that someone wants him enough to fight for him.

Tommy was right all along.

All his fears were true and will be what he ends up with. Older queer people who want families and are scarred by their own past experiences don't get love or a family. They don't get a place to call home.

Then, you have Buck; Buck blindsided by the trauma; Buck seeing his entire six-month relationship fall apart and just letting it happen to himself again. Having yet another person in his life, in a moment of cowardice and pain, quietly and brokenly lash out that he couldn't believe Buck would actually take this seriously; that he couldn't believe that Buck would love him once the pedestal was gone and the shininess wore off. That, once again, Buck lets his relationship play out without any idea of how to be active in it. That someone Buck loves, that he thought about possibly marriage with one day, that he wants to live with, leaves him.

That Buck, once again, is abandoned.

That Buck can't know himself.

That the show wants to lean into lazy biphobic ideas and tell us, yes, that's what Buck deserves. The thriving relationship that he had crumbles within minutes because Buck doesn't get to be happy; how can he know what happiness is if he isn't playing the field? Because nothing he did before Tommy counted. Buck 1.0 didn't count. None of his previous relationships counted. Because they were all ladies, and how can you know if you've only been with one man?

Telling the audience that you can't be happy in a relationship if it's somehow a "first", despite everything pointing to the relationship being solid and good for Buck.

It is the worst possible scenario.

It is a nightmare for both Buck and Tommy.

Both messages are terrible for the audience.

There were so many ways they could have broken up and I would have been fine with it. I've talked about it before, but I was fine with Josh and Arnold breaking up in Please Like Me and I still love the show. I watched episodes with Josh and Arnold from Please Like Me as a comfort when I was reeling about this that first night! I was fine with Alexis and Ted breaking up on Schitt's Creek and I was still fine with the show. I was okay with Amelia and Kai breaking up and I'm still watching Grey's Anatomy. Because all of those breakups were understandable. They made sense. I can like couples and be okay with them not working out. And they're fictional. Fictional shit rarely hurts me, if ever. That's not my problem at all here.

It's how this happened. It's the message it signals to the audience. It's devastating. I'm still devastated by the choice. I've never felt this way about a breakup for two characters ever. The core of my grief and genuine hurt is what the show proves it believes in through this breakup. And that's what's hurt me.

[mercymaker]

i need soft malstarion in my life like a person waking up at 4am needs water

[pucksandpower]

Crash Course Correction

Lando Norris x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: the Austrian Grand Prix left your boyfriends less than pleased with each other, so you decide to do something about it

The tension in the air is palpable as you stride into the living room, your eyes darting between Max and Lando. They’re seated on opposite ends of the couch, arms crossed, deliberately avoiding each other’s gaze.

The aftermath of their crash at the Austrian Grand Prix still lingers, a cloud of unresolved anger and frustration hanging over them.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “Alright, boys,” you announce, your voice firm but tinged with exasperation. “This ends now.”

Max’s head snaps up, his blue eyes narrowing. “What are you on about?”

Lando, unable to resist, chimes in with a snort. “Probably about how you can’t drive for shit.”

“Me?” Max’s voice rises an octave. “You’re the one who-”

“Enough!” You cut them off, hands on your hips. “I’ve had it with this childish bickering. You two are going to sit here and work this out, or so help me, you’ll both be sleeping on this couch until you do.”

The threat hangs in the air for a moment before Lando breaks the silence. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” you reply, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I love you both, but I’m not dealing with this anymore. Sort it out.”

Max leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Y/N, come on. It’s not that simple. He-”

“No excuses,” you interrupt. “Talk to each other, not to me. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” With that, you turn on your heel and march out of the room, leaving the two drivers to face each other.

For a long moment, neither speaks. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems to grow louder with each passing second.

Finally, Lando breaks. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Max grunts in agreement. “Yeah, well, welcome to life with Y/N. Stubborn as hell.”

“You’re one to talk,” Lando retorts, but there’s less heat in his words now.

Max sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Look, about the race ...”

Lando tenses. “What about it?”

“I ... I might have been a bit aggressive in that turn,” Max admits grudgingly.

Lando’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit?”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly backing off either,” Max counters, but his tone is more defensive than accusatory.

Lando opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, considering. “Fair point,” he concedes after a moment. “I guess we were both pushing pretty hard.”

The admission seems to ease some of the tension in the room. Max nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? Push to the limit.”

“Yeah,” Lando agrees, a matching smile forming. “Sometimes we just ... overstep that limit.”

There’s another pause, but this one feels less strained. Max breaks it, his voice softer now. “I am sorry, you know. For how it ended up. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

Lando’s expression softens. “I know. Me too. It’s just ... frustrating, you know? We both lost out on a podium.”

Max nods emphatically. “Tell me about it. The team was not happy.”

“Christian give you an earful?” Lando asks, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Max groans. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You?”

“Zak was ... not thrilled,” Lando admits with a grimace. “But I think Andrea was even worse.”

They share a look of mutual understanding, the shared experience of team disappointment bridging the gap between them.

“You know,” Max says slowly, “maybe we should ... I don’t know, talk more? In the paddock, I mean. Try to avoid these situations.”

Lando tilts his head, considering. “Yeah, that could help. Better communication, less ... assuming the other will back off.”

“Exactly,” Max agrees, warming to the idea. “We’re both competitive as hell, but maybe we can find a way to race hard without ... well, this.”

Lando nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I’d like that. It’s more fun when we’re both actually finishing the race.”

Max chuckles. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, the earlier tension replaced by a tentative camaraderie. They’re both quiet for a moment, processing the change.

“So,” Lando ventures, “think this counts as making up? Because I really don’t fancy sleeping on this couch. It’s not exactly built for comfort.”

Max laughs outright at that. “God, no. My back would never forgive me.” He pauses, then calls out, “Schatje? You can come back now. We’ve sorted it.”

You poke your head around the corner, eyeing them suspiciously. “Have you really? Or are you just saying that to get out of couch duty?”

Lando holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Cross my heart. We’ve had a proper talk and everything.”

You step fully into the room, your gaze moving between them. “And? What did you decide?”

Max and Lando exchange a glance before Max speaks. “We’re going to work on communicating better about what happens on the track. Try to avoid these ... incidents.”

“And off track?” You prompt, not quite satisfied.

Lando jumps in. “We’re good, love. Really. Water under the bridge and all that.”

You study them for a moment longer before your posture relaxes. “Alright, I believe you. But if I hear one more word about that crash ...”

“You won’t,” Max assures you quickly. “Promise.”

You nod, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Good. Now, who wants dinner? I’m starving.”

As you turn to head back to the kitchen, Lando calls out, “Hey, Y/N?”

You pause, looking back. “Yeah?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Just for the record, if we had to sleep on the couch ... would it have been together, or ...”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “In your dreams, Norris.”

Max snorts. “As if I’d share a couch with you anyway. You kick in your sleep.”

“Oi!” Lando protests. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfect sleeping companion.”

“Sure you are,” Max teases. “That’s why Y/N always complains about your snoring.”

You decide to intervene before they can start bickering again, albeit more playfully this time. “Alright, children. Less arguing, more helping with dinner.”

They both groan dramatically but get up to follow you into the kitchen. As you start pulling out ingredients, you can’t help but smile at the easy banter now flowing between them.

“So,” Max says, leaning against the counter, “what’s for dinner?”

You shrug. “I was thinking pasta. Simple and quick.”

Lando perks up. “Ooh, can we have garlic bread too?”

“Only if you make it,” you counter, tossing him a loaf of Italian bread.

He catches it with a grin. “Challenge accepted.”

As Lando busies himself with the garlic bread and you start on the pasta sauce, Max hovers nearby, looking slightly lost.

“Don’t just stand there,” you chide gently. “Make yourself useful. Chop some vegetables or something.”

Max grimaces. “You know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Lando laughs. “Come on, Max. Even you can’t mess up chopping vegetables. Here, I’ll show you.”

To your surprise, Max allows Lando to guide him through the process, their earlier animosity completely forgotten. You watch them with a warm feeling in your chest, grateful that your plan worked out better than you could have hoped.

As the kitchen fills with the aroma of garlic and herbs, the conversation flows easily between the three of you. Racing stories blend with personal anecdotes, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful jab.

“Remember that time in Monaco,” Lando says between giggles, “when Daniel thought it’d be a good idea to-”

“Oh God,” Max groans, but he’s smiling. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look at inflatable flamingos the same way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

They exchange a look before answering in unison, “Probably not.”

The pasta is almost done when Max suddenly says, “You know, I’m glad we sorted this out.”

Lando nods, his expression sincere. “Me too. It’s ... nice, this. Being able to just be together without the pressure.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees softly. “Sometimes I forget we’re not just rivals, you know? We’re ... partners.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighted with meaning. You hold your breath, waiting to see how Lando will respond.

A slow smile spreads across Lando’s face. “Yeah, we are. Even if you are a pain in the arse sometimes.”

Max laughs, the sound full and genuine. “Right back at you, mate.”

You can’t help but join in their laughter, relief and happiness bubbling up inside you. This is what you’d hoped for — not just a truce, but a real reconnection.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation continues to flow. You find yourself content to just listen, watching the way Max and Lando interact. There’s a new ease between them, a understanding that goes beyond their shared profession.

“You know,” you say during a lull in the conversation, “I’m proud of you both. For working this out.”

They both look slightly embarrassed at the praise, but pleased nonetheless.

“Well,” Lando says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “we couldn’t very well let you win, could we? Threatening us with the couch, honestly.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Max chuckles. “She’s got us there.”

As the evening winds down, you find yourself curled up on the couch between them, a movie playing on the TV. It’s some action flick that none of you are really paying attention to, too content in each other’s company.

“Hey,” Max says softly, his arm draped around your shoulders. “Thanks for this. For ... pushing us to talk.”

Lando hums in agreement from your other side. “Yeah, we can be right idiots sometimes. It’s good to have someone to knock some sense into us.”

You smile, warmth spreading through you. “That’s what I’m here for. Someone has to keep you two in line.”

They both laugh at that, the sound harmonizing in a way that makes your heart swell.

As the credits roll on the forgotten movie, you realize that this — this moment of peace and companionship — is exactly what you’d been hoping for.

It’s not always easy loving two Formula 1 drivers. The competition, the pressure, the constant travel ... it can all take its toll.

But moments like this? They make it all worthwhile.

You snuggle deeper into the couch, surrounded by the warmth of the two men you love. “So,” you say, unable to resist one last tease, “I guess you’ve both earned your bed privileges back, huh?”

Max and Lando exchange a look over your head before Max speaks. “Actually ... I was thinking maybe we could all just stay here for a bit longer. This is ... nice.”

Lando nods in agreement. “Yeah, no rush to move. Unless you want to, of course,” he adds quickly.

You smile, touched by their reluctance to end the moment. “Here is perfect,” you assure them.

As you settle in for another movie, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, that crash was a blessing in disguise. It forced a confrontation that needed to happen, cleared the air in a way that casual interaction never could.

And now, curled up between Max and Lando, their earlier rivalry forgotten in favor of shared laughter and warm companionship, you know that whatever challenges come next, you’ll face them together.

As a team.

As a family.

[navybrat817]

Fall for Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he's good enough for you, but still wishes he could be your guy. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Longing, insecurities, "just friends" (for now), Steve is a good friend, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Friday Feels inspired by a nonnie.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a special kind of torture for Bucky to watch the person he loved flirt with someone else.

To be fair, he couldn't say for sure that you were flirting. Being friendly? Yes. You had a warm and welcoming personality, the kind he was drawn to the moment you two crossed paths months ago. One of the things he loved about you was how genuine you were. It was only natural that you pulled others in as well. Your compassion, charm, beauty, everything called to him.

You were the whole package, inside and out.

“What the hell am I doing here?” He muttered. He hadn't wanted to go to the bar, but Steve assured him it was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. Not a lot of patrons on a night like this. Somewhere no one would bother them. He added at the last second that you were going.

Bucky grabbed his leather jacket to go as soon as those words left Steve’s mouth.

Instead of having a drink with you like he wanted or just talking, he simmered in silence in a booth while you stood at the bar. He narrowed his eyes as the guy you were talking to moved an inch closer. A bit too close for his liking.

Steve said his name was Will. They had met each other at some point in passing. Short blonde hair and a trimmed beard. Ex-military, but still built like he had a war to fight. Behind the guy’s blue eyes lurked pain, guilt, and regret that most would miss due to his general stoic demeanor. Bucky could relate all too well to horrors that haunted even the strongest of men.

But when Will looked at you, his eyes lit up. They held a sense of longing. Hope.

Once again, Bucky could relate all too well because that was how he looked at you.

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” Steve said, grabbing a beer from the bucket and setting it down in front of him. “Just talk to her.”

Bucky took a swig, but didn't take his eyes off you. He was afraid if he looked away that Will might convince you to leave with him. “Talk to her about what?”

His best friend sighed. “You know what.”

Steve knew how he felt about you. Talking about his feelings wasn't easy, but he had to tell his best friend. And it wasn't the first time Steve encouraged him to speak up. He said you had the right to know so the two of you could figure out how to move forward, whether as a couple or just friends, instead of dancing around it.

But how could Bucky admit how he felt when he didn't deserve someone like you?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“We're friends,” Bucky stated. The words tasted as bitter as the beer he sipped. No, not bitter. He couldn't feel that way just because he had a piece of you when he wanted all of you.

Was he selfish for that?

He nearly shattered the bottle in his hand when you giggled at whatever Will said. Something akin to jealousy settled in his chest and he had no right to feel that way. The two of you weren't together. You were single and didn't owe him a thing.

But he knows if you gave him a chance, he’d treat you well. Better than any other guy before him. He would do his best to make you happy. Maybe that wasn't enough.

“Will is a good guy, but he isn't you, Buck. You’re still one of the best guys I know,” Steve said.

“You don't have to kiss my ass, punk,” he muttered, immediately regretting it. He was only trying to help and God knows he had done more than enough for him over the years.

Steve shook his head. “And you don't have to feel sorry for yourself, jerk.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. Maybe he was. He was sorry for so many things.

As if you sensed his sadness, you looked over your shoulder and met his gaze. You smiled at him, the kind of smile that stole the very breath from his lungs and made his head spin. He wanted to believe it was a smile you reserved only for him. And the softness in your beautiful eyes, he imagined he could see his future in them.

Could you see the endless love he had for you in his?

His heart ached when you turned away and put your hand on Will’s arm. Of course, you were attracted to the guy. Why wouldn’t you be? The thought of you kissing him though, being intimate with him? He felt sick enough to finally look away.

Bucky glanced at his distorted reflection in the beer bottle. A long time ago, he would've called himself handsome. Not because he was full of himself, but because he knew himself then. He knew how to walk the line between confidence and cockiness. He was full of life and wonder once. Now the weight of his sins showed in how he carried himself.

Sins you never judged him for.

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

Steve nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was so lost in his mind that he hadn’t heard you call out to him. He should’ve known since you were the only one who called him Jamie. When he looked up from his seat, he saw that you were no longer standing next to Will as he was still at the bar. And there was nothing but concern in your gaze as you set your drink down on the table.

“What? What happened?” He asked, not smooth at all.

Your eyes flickered to Steve and then back at him. “I asked if you’re okay. You don’t look too well.”

“Not feeling so great,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. “This place…”

“Oh,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him. He inhaled, your sweet scent soothing the pain in his heart and making it race all at once. “Well, why don’t we head out? There’s no reason to stay if you don’t want to stay.”

He gently smiled. You were always willing to go with the flow and change plans if things ever got too loud or too much for him. “I’m fine. Besides, you just got your drink and you haven’t had a chance to play pool with Sam or Natasha,” he argued. He didn’t want to spoil your night.

You put your hand on his arm, but it seemed different than when you touched Will’s arm. This was tender, soothing. “If being here is making you uncomfortable, then I don’t feel like sticking around. They’ll understand. Steve, please, back me up on this.”

“She’s right. You two should go,” Steve said, conveniently leaving himself and the others out of the equation.

Bucky spared Will a glance, who was now talking to the guys he went into the bar with. He swallowed hard before the next words left his mouth. “What about your new friend?”

“You are my friend, Jamie,” you said. He winced inwardly at the reminder. Friends. You were just friends. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s just go. How about a movie at your place? Something low-key so you feel better.”

“You sure?” He asked, wondering just how eager he looked to leave with you.

“I’m sure,” you smiled, making his heart warm again.

“Okay. You convinced me,” he said. Not that it would’ve taken much. Your smile could bend the will of just about anyone.

“You know, I hear healthy conversations are also good to help people feel better,” Steve chimed in, earning an elbow to the side from Bucky.

You raised an eyebrow and slid out of the booth. “Yeah. Sure. Jamie and I can have a healthy conversation and you all enjoy the rest of the night.” You offered Bucky a hand to help him out. He didn’t want to let go. “C’mon. We have a movie waiting for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky teased, proud of himself when you giggled.

Steve gave him an optimistic smile and he couldn’t help but return it. He wasn’t sure if Will had given you his number or if you planned to see him, but maybe he’d take a chance and tell you he had fallen for you. Maybe, if he was lucky, you had fallen for him, too.

Just maybe.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be a thing? Did Will give you his number? Will Bucky say how he feels? What's going to happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[zaczenemiji]

Hi there! It's me...again. Hope your doing okay.

I was thinking about a new request about Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader based on the song "Please, Please, Please" from Sabrina Carpenter. Reader is a singer just like her so and has a relationship with Ken but she thinks that some things aren't doing good, but she also has him wrapped around her finger. Like the part with "I beg you, don't embarrass me, mother******". It can be angst but also fluffy and spice (Only if you want to but no smut) It can end in a happy ending.

The rest is up to you because I know you'll do a great job. No need to rush so take your time.

Don’t Prove ‘Em Right

Kenji Sato x Singer!Reader

Word Count: 1,358

Genre/Warnings: Angst (light), Character Development, Drama, Emotional, Redemption

Author’s Note: I went with a bit of angst 🤧

MASTERLIST

“You could do better.”

This was one thing you’ve always heard since you started dating men as a singer. Throughout your career, you were either cheated on, abandoned, or used in a way that they just rode your fame.

Other times, fans would ship you with another singer or celebrity or whoever famous and you’d give it a try for them but the ending is the always same: you two were just pretending for public entertainment and there was never love at all.

Your perception of love blurred the longer you got in the singing industry. You sang about it, wrote songs about it, but you’ve never really experienced it for a significant amount of time or for a significant depth.

That was until you met Kenji.

Despite his fame, he seemed down-to-earth and genuinely interested in getting to know you. He took you to his baseball games and introduced you to his teammates. In return, you invited him to your recording sessions.

Kenji was always supportive, and always encouraging. He seemed genuinely proud of your achievements and was always there for you. Despite his busy schedule, he shows up at your gigs and concerts and cheers you on from the front row.

He had a way of making you feel special like you were the most important person in his world. It was easy to overlook the occasional outbursts, the moments of impulsiveness that seemed to come with his fiery temperament.

You told yourself that everyone had flaws, and Kenji's good qualities far outweighed his bad ones.

You believed in him and in the future you could build together. Despite the red lights and the stop signs, you held on to the belief that this time, this love was right.

But as time went on, the cracks in Kenji's facade began to show. His temper flared more frequently, and his impulsive decisions started to take a toll on your relationship.

You made excuses for him and justified his actions to your friends and family. You told them he’s different.

But they told you that with the way he’s behaving, you’ll just end up in the dumps again—that he’s going to cheat on you, hurt you, leave you, and the ending will be the same…

“You could do better.”

Heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another. You couldn’t afford your name dominating the headlines again. And for what reason? Another breakup.

You loved him deeply, but the constant cycle of highs and lows was exhausting. You wanted to believe that he could change, that he could be the man you fell in love with.

But the more you tried to fix things, the more you realized that some things were beyond your control.

You sat in front of your vanity doing your makeup nicely. You glanced at the clock. Kenji would be here any minute to pick you up now. Tonight is your big night. It’s an afterparty to celebrate the release of your new single.

Your boyfriend had a reputation for causing a scene. It wasn't entirely his fault—he was passionate but it sometimes translated into impulsiveness. Tonight, of all nights, you needed him to be on his best behavior.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Kenji stood there, looking dashing in a tailored suit, a grin spreading across his face as he saw you.

"Wow, you look stunning," he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

"Thanks," you replied, forcing a smile. "You sure you wanna come?"

"Of course," he replied with a confidence that both reassured and worried you. “I’m always here for you.”

You arrived at the venue in no time. Celebrities, reporters, and fans filled the room, all eager to celebrate your success. You and Kenji mingled with the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and accepting congratulations.

But as the night went on, Kenji's behavior started to shift. The drinks were flowing, and while you had stuck to soda water, Kenji had not.

You watched with growing anxiety as he laughed a little too loudly, and gestured a little too wildly. The conversations around you started to feel like a backdrop to a ticking time bomb.

You pulled him aside. "Kenji, please," you whispered urgently. "Just... take it easy, okay?"

He frowned, a mix of confusion and irritation crossing his features. "What? I'm just having a good time."

"I know," you said, forcing another smile. “Just... for me, okay?"

He sighed but nodded and for a while, it seemed like he was keeping his promise. He stuck by your side, an arm around your waist, engaging in polite conversation with your friends and family.

However, you left him one moment and then the next, he was talking to one of the reporters. The latter walked away, a smirk on his face. Kenji turned to you, his face flushed with anger.

"Can you believe that guy?" he spat. "He had the nerve to ask about the last game. Said I sucked."

"Kenji," you said softly, trying to calm him down. You placed your hand on his chest. "It's not worth it."

"But—"

"Please, Kenji. Just... let it go."

He looked at you, the anger in his eyes slowly fading. He took a deep breath and nodded. "For you," he said quietly.

But the reprieve was short-lived. You caught sight of him at the bar, raising his voice at someone who had apparently made a snide comment.

The situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, Kenji had thrown a punch, causing a commotion that drew everyone's attention.

Your heart sank as security rushed in to break up the fight. You could feel all eyes on you, whispers spreading through the crowd.

You felt a sense of dejà vu as this wasn't the first time Kenji let his emotions get the best of him, and you were able to hold it together as you’ve always done, but then you heard the one thing you hated.

“She could’ve done better.”

Without a word, you grabbed your things and stormed out of the venue, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over.

Not long after, Kenji arrived at your house, disheveled and remorseful. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry," he began, reaching out to you. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

You stepped back, keeping a distance between you. "Kenji, this can't keep happening. You promised me you would behave tonight!” You said in between sobs. “This was supposed to be my night, and you turned it into a disaster.”

You sat on your couch, your legs feeling too tired to keep you up. "I can't keep making excuses for you,” you continued. “I can't keep sacrificing my career for your mistakes."

Kenji fell silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He’s scared. He knew what those words meant. At that moment, he felt like the sky was crashing on him.

"I don't want to lose you, (y/n)," he said quietly, tears falling down. "I love you, and I know I've been screwing up. But I'm willing to do everything to make things right. Therapy, anger management, whatever it takes."

You stared at him, your heart aching with a mix of love and doubt. "Kenji, this isn't just about tonight,” you said. “This has been happening for a while now.“

“Please, (y/n),” he begged, his voice trembling as he knelt in front of you, embracing your legs as he rested his head on your lap. “I want to be the man you deserve. Please, give me one more chance."

Over the next few weeks, Kenji followed through on his promise. He made genuine efforts to address his issues.

He went out of his way to apologize to your friends and family for his behavior at the party, taking full responsibility for his actions.

Slowly but surely, he’s coming back to being the man you fell in love with. He made sure you wouldn’t be the one doing better because he was becoming better himself.

One afternoon, you had lunch with your friends. They asked about how things are now going between you and Kenji. You gave them a smile, a genuine one since after the party.

“He became better.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

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[chuluoyi]

✎ protect

- gojo satoru x reader

the word “protect” now means so much more to him

genre: soft and playful gojo, sugary dump fluff, pregnant!reader

note: anyone craving some soft gojo? :3 based on a suggestion by an anon who needs a soft gojo a while back, thank you!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

When he was 16, Gojo Satoru thought that protecting other people was a pain, and didn't take it seriously.

Later, when he realized that even non-sorcerers deserve to live their lives in peace, he dedicated himself to becoming stronger so that he would be capable to protect them more. However, even then, he didn't perceive their worth as significant.

But when you entered the picture, that measly, glorified word suddenly became so much more.

Usually people would only care about whether he had succeeded his mission or not. His formidable reputation as the epitome of strength means no one is genuinely interested in his wellbeing—no one after Suguru, to be exact—until you did.

After a whirlwind romance of attraction and banters, Satoru reached the conclusion that he wanted you, the only person left who actually made him feel like a human, to stay happy and safe. He would do it with his own hands, even if it meant reshaping this cruel world to be kinder for you with him as your shield.

And the word “protect” gained an entirely new meaning years later, when he rested his head on your swollen belly—the place where his new cherished treasure was growing.

“When will he come out~?” he asked in a whiny tone and a blissful smile, even though he clearly knew the answer.

You shook your head with playful resignation, unable to conceal your smile. "In three weeks. Now help me get comfortable, you dork."

He helped you turn over and fetched a pillow to place under your aching spine. Then, with a mischievous grin, he lightly poked your belly with two fingers, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Don't poke me! You're poking your child!"

To that, Satoru merely threw his head back and snickered like the dumbass he was. He then tenderly rested his hand on the taut skin of your belly, gently massaging it, smiling with ardent happiness.

"Can't really believe it," he sighed, brimming with the purest sense of contentment. "A mini Gojo, huh... You're really doing a honorable work."

A child of his and yours. He had always wondered how he would be after seeing him firsthand—would he laugh just like he had been doing now, or will it be the first instance that move him to the point of shedding tears? One of the reasons he eagerly anticipated his son's birth was just to discover how he would react.

Seeing the weight of his baby growing within you, making you rounder and fuller, stirred a deep well of warm emotions in him with each passing day though.

"I am," you retorted cheekily, rolling your eyes. "In fact, you should be revering and worshipping me for carrying your spawn."

He merely hummed in a childlike manner, feeling his baby move around under his touch. You were about to roast him again with something funny when he leaned down and planted a kiss on your tummy, whispering to it.

"Please come out already~ Papa wants to meet you!"

Your heart swelled with warmth at that moment. Gojo Satoru was many things, but he wasn't typically known for his softness—he was often seen as this all-perfect being, and so witnessing him acting purely on his human emotions brought you a sense of happiness.

“Who do you think he’ll take after?” you mused.

“Hmmm. Me, obviously. He'll be hot just like me!” he quipped proudly, and you playfully smacked him on the arm.

Satoru caught your hand and kissed it tenderly amidst his grin. "But I want him to have your personality. I'd hate to see him be a show-off."

"So you do realize that you're actually a menace."

He laughed out loud, patting the generous swell of your belly again with a smug look on his face.

"I know, but I'm your menace, and that's all that matters."

And when his adorable son was born less than three weeks later and you passed out due to sheer exhaustion, Satoru vowed by everything in the heavens and the earth that he wouldn't spare anything to protect you and his child from this curse-filled world.

Epilogue - on the night of the birth -

“Satoru—” you panted, grimacing, head jerking back as your womb throbbed and pulsed in order to bring forth your child into the world. “I… feel like I’m going to faint…”

Worry etched his face as you leaned on him. “Hey, hey… Calm down sweetheart, relax and catch up on your breath, okay? Don’t worry, he’ll come out soon.”

Somehow his words rubbed you the wrong way.

“Hahh—this… is because of you! This happened because you shoved your stick into me! You horny bas—aahh!”

“Well, hey! Last I remembered, you begged me to put it into you! And I'm not—pfft—”

“Then what are you?!”

“Hmmm, nothing but a man who got you pregnant, sweetheart~”

“If I bleed out and die, it’s going to be your fault, you evil, wretched sorcerer!”

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Requested: Yes, thank you @remmysthings for his request, I loved it so much!!! Summary: Single mom Y/N takes her son to meet Lando and Oscar and might be going home with more than just memories :) Words: 2158 Click here for Part 2

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Y/N glanced at her watch, her heart racing almost as fast as the cars she was about to see. The Formula 1 paddock was alive with activity as the teams prepped for the big race. Her 4-year-old son, Noah, was practically vibrating with excitement since he’d learned about this special Meet & Greet. The thought of introducing Noah to his racing heroes had kept Y/N going through some tough days and she hoped it would be worth every effort.

Noah had been a fan of racing from a very young age. His room was decorated with posters of race cars and he could name every driver from the top of his head. When Y/N had managed to secure a Meet & Greet with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri she felt like she’d won the lottery. She knew this would be a day Noah would remember forever and she was determined to make it as special as possible.

As they approached the designated area, Y/N spotted the two drivers standing together. Lando was chatting animatedly with Oscar, both men looking relaxed in their team gear. Noah’s eyes widened and he tugged on Y/N’s hand, pulling her forward impatiently.

“Mommy, look! It’s Lando! And Oscar!” Noah squealed, his face lit up with sheer joy.

Lando’s gaze fell on them first. His eyes softened and a bright, genuine smile spread across his face. “Hey there, little guy” he called out, waving energetically.

Noah’s shyness melted away as he saw his idol waving at him. He tugged Y/N’s hand again, urging her to hurry. Y/N, feeling a bit nervous, walked over to them with a smile and extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Y/N, and this is Noah. It’s so nice to meet you both.”

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N and you too, Noah. Are you excited to see the cars up close?” Oscar greeted them with a friendly smile and Noah’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yes! I love the loud vroom-vroom noises!”

Lando crouched down to Noah’s level, his eyes twinkling amused. “I think you’re going to love it even more when you see them up close. How about you come see the garage with us?”

“Yes, please” Noah shouted loudly while jumping up and down.

Lando took the boy's hand and led him towards the garage, Oscar and Y/N following them closely. “So, Y/N, what’s your story? How did you end up as Noah’s biggest racing supporter?” Oscar asked the young woman next to him.

“Well, it’s been just Noah and me for a while now. He’s always had a fascination with cars and I guess I just got caught up in his enthusiasm. This is a big deal for us, and it means a lot to be here today.”

Oscar nodded. “I can imagine. It’s wonderful to see such a strong bond and it’s great that Noah has something he’s so passionate about.”

As they walked through the paddock, Y/N noticed how Lando effortlessly engaged with Noah. His energy and enthusiasm were infectious. Noah was asking questions about the car’s features and Lando was answering with technical details and playful banter.

“Noah’s a natural. He might be a future racer,” Lando glanced back at Y/N with a smile. “He’s pretty great, just like his mom, I bet. You must be pretty good at handling all this excitement.”

Y/N laughed, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “I try my best.”

Oscar, catching the look Lando was giving Y/N, raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. “And what about you, Y/N? What’s your favorite part about racing?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, not wanting to admit that she’s not an expert in Formula 1, but eventually decided to be honest. “I’m not as into the technical details as Noah is, but I love seeing him so happy and excited. It makes everything worth it.”

“I can see that, it’s clear how much you care about him,” Lando smiled, his eyes softening with understanding.

The young boy’s excitement was visible when the group approached the race engineer area. Noah got more and more hyper, still holding onto Lando’s hand as he followed his idol to a series of high-tech computers and screens. “This is where we monitor everything during the race,” the British driver explained to the boy, “it’s like the car’s brain, keeping track of all the data.”

Y/N was astonished at the amount of screens displaying real-time performance data. “It’s incredible how much technology goes into this. I’ve never seen anything like it up close.”

Lando smiled, clearly enjoying her fascination with it as well. “It can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it’s all about making sure everything runs perfectly. It’s quite a thrill, actually. Do you want to see the car up close now?” He eventually asked the little boy who was still holding onto him.

Lando and Noah quickly were engrossed in a lively discussion about the car, the boy standing next to the vehicle and the driver kneeling beside him, showing the 4-year-old the various parts of the car and answering his questions.

When Lando noticed Y/N watching from a few feet away, he waved at her with a grin. He couldn’t help but notice how the light seemed to highlight her features, giving her a beautiful glow. Her smile, warm and genuine, made Lando’s heart skip a beat and he admired how her eyes lit up with curiosity at the things she was seeing and love for her little boy.

After a few more minutes of inspecting the car Lando lifted the 4-year-old up to sit in the driver’s seat, and Noah’s eyes widened in awe. “Wow! It’s so cool!”

Lando grinned, clearly enjoying Noah’s reaction. “You look like you belong there.”

Noah beamed up at him, then glanced over at Y/N with a look of pure delight. “Mommy, look” he shouted in excitement, ”I’m in the car!”

“So? What do you think about our garage?” Lando asked Y/N while Noah was pretending to drive and making noises. Oscar sensed how Lando seemed to want a moment with Y/N, so he moved himself next to Noah and explained the different buttons on the steering wheel. 

“It’s fascinating. I never realized how much goes into managing a car during a race.”

“What’s been the most surprising part for you so far?” Lando’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, but Y/N didn’t seem to notice. She thought about his question for a moment. “I think it’s how much detail and precision is involved. I mean, I knew racing was complex, but seeing it all laid out like this is eye-opening.”

Lando nodded, clearly pleased with her insight. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Every little detail matters. That’s why we work so hard to get everything just right.”

The young woman nodded, smiling up to him. He was struck again by how pretty she looked. There was something genuinely captivating about her and he found himself drawn to her.

“Noah’s been asking some really good questions. He’s got a real passion for this, doesn’t he?” Lando commented, trying to keep the conversation going while his mind wandered to how lovely Y/N was.

Y/N’s face softened when she heard his words, happy and proud that somebody other than just his own mother noticed the passion her son had. “He definitely does. He’s been fascinated with racing since he could talk, so today his dream came true.”

Lando’s smile grew warmer as he looked back at Y/N. “It’s wonderful to see that kind of enthusiasm. And I have to say, you’re pretty amazing yourself, Y/N, not just for bringing Noah here, but for supporting his dreams and how you’re handling all of this. It must be hard taking care of him by yourself.”

As Y/N smiled, touched by his words “Thank you, Lando. That’s really sweet of you to say,” her cheeks flushing, “some days are hard but he’s a great kid.”

The driver admired her but also felt something deeper. He genuinely enjoyed her company and it was clear that her kindness and beauty, inside and out, had made a lasting impression on him. While she was watching her son still chatting with Oscar Lando once again was fascinated by the young woman next to him. He usually wasn’t the type to be nervous to flirt with girls but with Y/N it was different. 

He felt himself get nervous but decided to say what he wanted to say anyway. “I’ve really enjoyed today, Y/N. How about I give you my number? Maybe I can show you around the track properly sometime or you can text me anytime you want to know more about racing or just chat.”

Y/N smiled, easing Lando’s nervousness. “I’d like that,” she nodded, fished her phone out of her pocket and handed it to the driver who had an equally big smile on his face while he put his number into her contacts.

After a few more moments of admiring the car and asking the two drivers a dozen questions, it was time for Noah and Y/N to say goodbye.

“Hey, let’s take some pictures to remember today,” Lando suggested. Everyone eagerly agreed, and they started positioning themselves for a series of fun shots. Oscar and Y/N posed together first while Noah playfully peeped out from behind them.

After a few group photos, Lando had a special request. “Oscar, can you take a picture of me with Y/N and Noah? I want to have a shot with just us.”

Lando quickly lifted Noah up onto his hip. The boy snuggled against him, eyes wide with awe and a beaming grin on his little face. Lando then slung an arm around Y/N, drawing her close and after a few seconds of hesitation Y/N leaned into Lando’s side.

Oscar, who had been watching with a smile, realized that this scene looked like a perfect family photo. The way Lando had Noah securely on his hip and the way his arm was wrapped around Y/N gave the impression of a cute little family enjoying a special day together. 

The Australian raised his phone and captured the moment and after reviewing the photo and agreeing that it perfectly captured their time together, the group exchanged hugs and well-wishes but Lando had one more surprise for Noah. He handed him a signed McLaren bear with a personal note, and Noah clutched it tightly, his eyes shining with happiness.

“Thank you so much, this was the best day ever!” Noah exclaimed.

“You’re welcome, buddy, it was great meeting you. Maybe we’ll see you at another race again soon,” he crouched down once more to give the little boy a hug. “Noah, keep being awesome. I’ll be waving at you from the track.”

As Y/N and Noah left the paddock, Lando and Oscar remained behind. The Brit couldn’t help but smile at how this normal day had turned into something unexpectedly amazing. The two drivers walked toward the team's hospitality area and Oscar smirked at his teammate. “You seemed to have quite a connection with Y/N today. Not just the way you were with Noah, but with her too.”

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s great, isn’t she? It was really nice talking to her. She’s got this warmth about her and Noah’s excitement was just infectious.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re saying you might have a bit of a soft spot for her?”

“Maybe I do,” Lando shrugged and felt a blush creep onto his face, “she’s kind, genuine and really down-to-earth. It’s not everyday you meet someone who can handle all this racing stuff and meet someone famous and still make you feel like you’re talking to a friend.”

Oscar’s grin widened. “Sounds like you’re pretty taken with her. You know, it’s not just about the job. It’s nice to have those connections outside of racing, especially when you meet someone who makes the whole experience more memorable.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Lando nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s been a while since I felt this way with someone and seeing how happy Noah was today, it just added to everything.”

Oscar patted Lando on the back. “Well, if you’re interested in getting to know her better, you should definitely make an effort.”

“I think I will. I hope she texts me, I gave her my number and I really want to see if we can catch up one day.” Lando couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to the possibility of hearing from Y/N. The thought of continuing their connection and seeing where it might lead was exciting and he hoped that today’s encounter would turn into something more...

___________________

Click here for Part 2

[caotictimmy]

I ATE THE WHOLE DAISUKE DATING HC AND I MUST SAY ALL THE BRAINROT THAT HAS BEEN STEWING IN MY MIND!!!

I think he's such a golden retriever bf 😭 like both ways— sfw and nsfw. HES SO DOWN BAD FOR YOU, he loves you so much and fjdkkd if his partner also has physical contact as a primary love language, he would die for headpats. Like genuinely, give this guy headpats be when you two are cuddling or when you are both in an intimate moment. You could reward him with a little patpat on the head when Swansea is not looking, and he would lean in to your touch a little bit before reminding himself, he needs to learn!! he needs to make you proud

NOW NSFW-WISEE.....

Praise kink goes so hard on him is insane

He could be eating you out with sparkles in his eyes, almost like asking if he's doing a good job, and if you do express it, tell him he's such a good boy, how good you are feeling because of HIM, he's going to go harder on you out of pure happiness—hes doing a good job!! you're like this because of his work and that amazes him

i could write more but my mind is a mess and im so sleepy wnwnkd.

🐁 out!!!

🐁 anon I love your thinking please don’t spontaneously combust. BUT IM SO GLAD THE HIM LIKING HIS HAIR/HEAD TOUCHED IS CATCHING ON OMG….

Sfw headcanons/thoughts

- Now that I’m thinking of it. I should have known he’d like head pats. LIKE I ALREADY GOT THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER BF VIBE FROM HIM.

- But he definitely loves getting head pats or his hair ruffled! Specifically he really likes it after/is doing something good. Like normal head pats are fine but. Knowing your giving him them because he did something good?!?!

- You guys have definitely gotten called weirdos by Swansea, cause you patted Daisuke’s head. Swansea wont say anything cause this man is emotionally constipated 💔. But he’s glad Daisuke has someone who Daisuke can be his true weird self.

- If your hand is somewhere close to his head, and he wants head pats. Daisuke will head butt his head against your hand to show he wants you to either play with his hair, pat his head, scratch his scalp, etc ect.

- I think like the first time he head butt your hand for attention was when y’all were cuddling. You had your hand by his head. And you weren’t taking hid obvious hints! (Slightly nudging at you). So well he just thunked his head against your hand. Ever since then he keeps doing that when he wants you to play with his hair

NSFW - DO NOT READ IF YOUR A MINOR OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW (mostly AFAB some Gn )

- Omg please pull his hair. PLEASE. He loves it so much. Like holy moly. If you pull his hair while he’s deep inside. HES COMING IMMEDIATELY! Like pull just right and omg. It’s like a switch in his brain. And that man is going HARDER AND FASTER. Like I hope to burnt curly Anya can lend you a wheel chair.

- Omg just imagine Daisuke pulling his hair back during sex. OMG MY GYATTTT. Guys I see the light and it’s Daisuke pulling his hair back.

-(AFAB) I just thought of something. GYAHH IMAGINE SEEING DAISUKE TIES HIS HAIR BACK TO EAT YOU OUT(might need to make this into a FIC).I’m Actually foaming at the mouth. Guys wait let me cook.

“wait!”. Daisuke said. Before rolling a hair tie he had on his wrist for working on machines. Biting it as he collects his hair. Tying it up in a ponytail. Before pushing his sleeves up. Daisuke Looks back at You with a smile. “Now I’m ready” he say cheekily.

- Guys someone please draw Daisuke with a sexy man ponytail please I’ll be in debt with you. PLEASE HE’LL LOOK SO HOT JUST TRUST MY VISON!!!!

-(AFAB) Omg and grip his hair while he’s eating you out. Like omg if you’re pulling at his hair moaning. He’s gonna feel so good about himself knowing he’s pleasing you. Also if you ever shoved his face in your cunt while he’s eating you out. You gave yourself a death wish. CAUSE THIS MAN WILL NOT STOP UNTIL YOU HAVE TO PULL HIS HEAD AWAY.

You couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like he couldn’t stop. The pleasure was getting to much. You gripped his hair. Feeling him moan in you. You pull his head back, letting out that breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You could hear him catching his breath before hearing him let out a sad noise. You looked down seeing Daisuke giving you these sad puppy dog eyes. “Did I do something wrong.” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No no! Just needed-“. You huffed, “need..need a moment.” You said dazed. He paused for a moment. The glimmer in his eyes back with a vengeance. He starts to grin. “Did I..” He started. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning your slick off around his mouth. “Did I do good?” He asked. Daisuke happily looking up at you waiting for your response. His grin got wider as he felt your hand rub against his head.

Authors note: GYAHH I LOVED THIS REQUEST SMMMM. Like, reblogd, and especially comments are appreciated! This was so fun writing thud.

[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."

[octoberautumnbox]

I Got All I Need

Le Sserafim Kim Chaewon (ft. Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader)

Categories/warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation, voyeurism i think, anal, abuse, rough sex, like really really rough sex (kinda)

Word count: 1.6k

a/n: wrote on a whim lol no proofread no beta im sorry anways--

Chaewon lay bored in her bed, having exhausted her SNS feeds and Watch Later playlist. Her members sent all manner of pictures with their families and other friends in the groupchat, and honestly, genuinely, Chaewon was happy for them! And just a teeny bit envious, that's all, cross her heart and hope to die.

Her phone read 6:06 pm, and on her first long weekend off in the year, she had nothing to do. She was getting desperate for some fun. She opened her contacts app and punched in a random number.

"Ah, sorry, Chaewon-ssi," the voice on the other end of the line admitted, "Yena won't be back in Korea until next Friday. I'll let her know you called."

"Hi, this is Eunbi! I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave me a message and I'll get back to you in a jiffy!" Of course she uses an answering machine, Chaewon thought.

"Hi, Unnie!" Chaewon was overjoyed! "Hey Minmin, I was just curious if you were down to eat--" The sound of a bell rang loud in the other side of the phone call. "Oops, I'm really really sorry Unnie. Gotta get back now. Long night ahead of us, they're even killing my character again today! See you soon!"

Looking to her closet, Chaewon's mind was half-set to just put on a warm coat and go out alone. That's a thing people do nowadays, right? Go out and eat by themselves?

Sighing, she went for one last-ditch effort. She knows she won't pick up. She knows that even if she does, she wouldn't want to come out. She knows that if she wants to come out, it'll be shabu-shabu and sitting around by the Han River. "Oh well," Chaewon resigned, "At least I won't be alone."

She scrolled down her contacts and found her name. Tap, tap, tap, and the ringing started. One ring, two, three, and four. Chaewon expected this, so much so that she's not even disappointed.

"H-hello?" Chaewon fought back a gasp! "Hey, hi Yuri! I was going to go out for a bite--"

"Ah, fuck..." Silence filled the phone line for a good few seconds before Yuri's end broke it again. "Shit, th-that's really good."

"Yuri?" "Ffffuck yes, just like that..." Disbelief filled Chaewon's mind. "Sorry," Yuri struggled to whisper, "wh-who is this?"

"It's... It's Chaewo-" "Fuck! Shit, shit, shit, please..."

Chaewon had half a mind to just drop the call then and there, and she should, right? This is one of her best friends in the world. Busy, as they say, with something important.

"Unnie, I'm so sorry, I just have the thickest cock ripping my asshole apart right now, ahhh, oh fuck, OH FUCK!"

Although, as much as Chaewon wants to deny it, dropping the call was out of the question now. She had to know just what exactly was going on.

"Are you okay, Yuri? Do... you need me to call someone?"

"Haahhhhh... Ahh, AHHHH!" Yuri's scream ripped through the phone line, and Chaewon couldn't keep her own free hand from straying anymore.

"Unnie, I... I need y-you... to keep a... a secret," It was hard for Chaewon to decipher what her friend was saying, between every moan and grunt littered across her speech. She couldn't resist, though, that she was paying more attention to them than whatever words could be spilling out of Yuri's mouth.

"I'm... with my... with my boyfriend. He's p-pounding my ass right now..." Chaewon was groping her own ass at that moment, and she could feel herself getting moist.

She heard whispering at the other end. Yuri's voice rang clearer, even if a bit shakier. "He says... if I end the call... he'll tie me up and, and leave me," Yuri's breaths are heavy and laced with exhaustion, "un-until morning. So I'm sorry, but I can't... Mmmmff..."

Chaewon couldn't believe she was getting hot to the sound of her friend getting fucked hard. There was no way pure, sweet, innocent Yuri was like this, right? Absolutely impossible.

And yet, she found her own hand slipping under her panties. She felt her smooth pussy lips, how they were slick against her fingers, and how her insides were starting to burn up.

"Unnie... he's making me tell you..." Chaewon was all ears now, desperate for more.

"I have six inches of cock up my ass... and three ffffingers... in my soaking cunt." Three wouldn't fit, Chaewon thought, so she settled for two inside herself. Her pussy lips parted for them, and Chaewon let out a tiny "mmmh."

"He... he's rubbing my clit, and... AHHH--" Chaewon was palming her own clit as her fingers shoved themselves slowly in and out of her pussy, letting more of her juices out and onto her panties.

"... and he's s-slapping and pinching it, Unnie..." Frustrated and in heat, Chaewon frantically stripped and kicked away both her shorts and panties; they were ruined anyway. She lay comfortably back onto her bed and spread her legs, in prime position for her own missionary fucking, with regrettably nothing more than her left hand.

"And Unnie..." Her former member's deep and heavy breaths occupied the phone line. "P-please... don't let this... change how you see me... God, please, no..."

Chaewon pumped her fingers in and out of her pussy hard now. Her juices were falling all over her bedsheets, and the scent of her sex reaching her nose only spurred her on.

"Yuri... Tell me."

"He... he creampied me, Unnie..." Suddenly, Chaewon's hips lifted off the bed momentarily as she heard this. Her fingers found a good spot as she returned to the bed, and from then on strove to hit it again and again and again.

"More, Yuri-yah... please..." She couldn't hide it anymore, Chaewon was moaning just as loudly now as her beloved friend.

"Th-three times, Unnie... in my ass..." Chaewon's eyes shut tight as her brain locked onto what was being said. "And... six... I think, in my... my pussy... oh- OH GOD!"

Chaewon started grinding against her palm, forcing more pleasure through her crotch. She humped against the air, lifting and dropping her hips in a needy bid for her sweet release.

"FUCK! Unnie, I can't remember-- Shhhhhit, shitshitshitshit... How- how many times he came in my cunt- AHHHH!"

She could hear it so much better now, how her friend's ass slapped against her boyfriend's waist. Yuri's moans rang louder still, pushing her phone's speaker to its limit.

"Unnie, holy fuck, Unnie... Please... don't..." Yuri collected herself for a moment before starting again. "He... he has my-my nipples in clamps, too... It hurts so good, Chaewon-unnie, shit... everything is so good..."

Chaewon struggled against her top, and managed to get all of it up past her chest and under her neck. Her breasts bounced out from under her bra and relaxed. She pinched and squeezed her left nipple as hard as she could, feeling the nub stiffen against her fingertips.

"And I came, Unnie..." Her fingers returned to pleasuring her now-leaking pussy. Chaewon rubbed around her lips to collect more of her slick, before shoving now three of her fingers inside her.

"I came so... so many times. F-fifteen... before I- ahhh- lost c-count." Chaewon found her pace and rhythm again. She pistoned her fingers into and out of her sex as her moans reached the other end of the line too.

"Fuck, Yuri-yah, that sounds so fucking good... I'm close... I'm so close!"

"He's forcing me t-to tell you, Unnie, ahhhhh..."

Chaewon shut her eyes again, wishing, imagining it was her getting the railing of her life. Only now did she realize how big the wet spot on her bed between her legs was.

"I'm... Unnie, I'm... his slut. I'm his ffffuuuckdoll..."

Chaewon was straining herself now, her arm muscles burning with overexertion. She felt her cunt leak so much of her sex all over her hand. She wildly fingered her g-spot, praying that her climax comes soon.

"I'm his pleasure girl, Unnie," Chaewon heard her friend's voice break with sobs between words and moans. "I'm his slutty, hhhorny, p-personal o-onahole..."

At this point, Chaewon was sobbing too. Why couldn't she have a boyfriend like that? Why can't she be the one getting sexually taken advantage of? She even bet she could make Yuri's boyfriend feel worlds better than Yuri ever could.

"I'm his... I'm his slutty fucking cumdump, Unnie! He fucks me raw and creampies my cunt- AHHHHH- and I love when he fills my womb up so much it leaks out of my abused pussy!"

A scream dragged itself across Chaewon's throat, and she made sure both Yuri and her boyfriend heard. Chaewon's arm burned hotter with overfatigue as she was nearly breaking her own pussy with how hard she was pumping. "Fuck, Yuri! Please! I need to cum!"

"Fuck, Unnie, me too! Shit, Unnie, I have to tell you..."

Tears streamed down Chaewon's cheeks now, her crotch and thighs soaked with her slick. She's already lost control of herself and fully gave in to her body's desires, wailing cries and moans that she couldn't even recognize as her own anymore.

"I'm not safe, Unnie! I'm so fucking f-fertile! He's going to make me pregnant! H-he's put- FUCKING SHIT, PLEASE DADDY- He's putting a fucking baby in my womb!!! AAAHHHHHHH!"

"FFFFUCK, YURI! HOLY FUCK I'M CUMMING SO MUCH!!!"

Chaewon's cum sprayed out of her sore cunt in intense streams. Chaewon forcefully pulled her fingers out as her hips convulsed violently, wringing out every last drop of her climax. She kept squirting for what felt like ages, and with every spurt of her girlcum she grew less and less alert.

Her eyes were heavy, and her ears were failing her. Her hands dropped to the sides, as did her waist onto the mattress as her climax overwhelmingly resolved. She grew less and less aware of her heart beating out of her chest, and, finally, passed out naked on her cum-soaked bed.

a/n: lmao jesus christ anyways this wasn't the incest smut i was talking abt that's still in the works

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh��� “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[luvjunie]

— broken promises

pairing: earth 42 miles x fem!reader

summary: while earth 42 miles comes off a lot tougher than 1610’s based off his cold demeanor and his trauma induced apathy, somewhere under that hard shell, he’s still the sweet boy he used to be and wants love just like anyone else. miles is aged up to 17 in this, simply for the plot! wc: 2,640

contains: spoilers!!! angst to fluff

word bank: “mi vida” - my life, “mi amor” - my love

playing now: Wasted Love Freestyle by Jhene Aiko

You and Miles have been dating for 7 months now, and lately he hasn’t been around as much as he’d like to, for obvious reasons. Well, not obvious to you. You still don’t know that Miles is the Prowler, and he’s intent on keeping it that way.

It’s the third time he’s flaked on plans he arranged himself this month, and he can tell you’re beyond tired of it with the way you just blew his phone up.

— Miles POV —

Miles’ phone buzzes in his pocket but he decides against checking it, marking it off as something unimportant. He’s already accepted a job from his Uncle and a distraction wouldn’t do him any good right now.

8:03 PM

Mi Vida: please don’t tell me you’re doing this again bro.

Mi Vida: this is a joke, right?

Mi Vida: hello?? you were supposed to be outside thirty minutes ago.

Mi Vida: Miles Gonzalo Morales I swear to GOD if I don’t hear your motorcycle revving outside in the next five minutes so help me.

*buzz buzz*

Ignored.

*buzz buzz*

*buzz buzz*

He kissed his teeth, lashes fluttering in aggravation and air puffing through his nostrils at the continuous buzzing against his leg. His shoulder fell to the side a bit as he reached down into his pocket to grab his phone while he climbed up the stairwell, following his uncle. Seeing your contact name on his lock screen, his brow raised as he read over the message, then they bunched together in the middle of his forehead incredulously, the tone of your texts causing his strides to falter.

Miles was genuinely confused for a moment, trying to think back on if he’d done anything to upset you, until the memory of him assuring you he wouldn’t do this again slapped him across the face harder than his mom did that one time he’d cursed at her on accident. The two of you had a date planned for tonight, and he swore to you he’d be there this time, fifteen minutes early at that, even though he knew there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to make it all. It was selfish of him to promise something he couldn’t guarantee, knowing how demanding the other factors in his life were, but he was so tired of disappointing you, and how happy you looked when he told you you guys would finally get to spend some time together really had him thinking he could make it work this time.

Eyes falling shut for a beat, a heavy sigh leaves his lips, tongue darting out to dampen them as he quickly tries to think of something to respond with that won’t piss you off more than you already are.

He texts you back: sorry Mami, something came up yk how it is. i got you tomorrow tho fasho

Yeah. Real smooth.

*buzz buzz*

Mi Vida: yk what, just forget it, Miles.

Damn, she called me by my first name? I definitely fucked up this time. He thinks to himself.

Mi Vida: whoever you’re with is clearly more important to you than what we got goin on, so it’s cool. stay where you at, i’m done

Shit.

His heart beats a little faster in his chest, the sensation a semblance of something he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. He texts back as fast he can, head snapping up to see he’s fallen behind his Uncle, and he hurriedly jumps a few stairs before he comes to a stop again.

Miles: done??? the fuck you mean you done?

You don’t respond fast enough for his liking, so he double texts.

Miles: baby stop playin. you trippin it ain’t even like that at all

Mi Vida: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

He utters a string of curses under his breath, alerting his Uncle who had already noticed he was falling behind when he heard the inconsistency of his nephew’s footsteps. He’s ample steps above Miles, turning his head only slightly over his shoulder to address the distracted teenager.

“C’mon man, get off the phone. We got business to tend to. You in or you out?” Aaron asks. “You know I can’t have nobody holdin’ me back.” There’s a hint of something deeper playing within his words, and Miles knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He swallows hard as he looks up at the older man. Taking one last look down at his phone, his jaw clenches in contemplation before he’s shaking his head with a quiet sigh and shoving it back into his pocket. He’ll have to deal with this later.

“My fault. Yeah, I’m in.” He mumbles, doing a quick jog to catch up to the man.

His uncle’s lips quirk into a smirk, a heavy hand coming down to clap Miles’ back and squeeze his shoulder.

“My man. Aight, let’s roll.”

— Your POV —

8:05 PM

You: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

You watch closely as the three dots bubble at the bottom left corner of your screen, an indicator that he was typing. But instead, a quiet scoff slips from your mouth when they disappear, your shoulders slumping in disappointment at the word that appears below your last message.

Seen

You angrily toss your phone onto your bed, bottom lip quivering when you catch a glance at yourself in the mirror when you walk by. You’d gotten dressed up all nice just for him, because you knew the chance of him being free for a night to take you out was rare. You’d started your makeup early just to make sure he wouldn’t have to wait outside for you while you finished, and you’d even styled your hair the way you knew he liked. All for nothing.

You kicked your shoes off and dropped your purse to the ground, heading to your bathroom to undo all your work. You washed all the makeup off your face, the act feeling more humiliating than ever when you remembered why you’d even put it on in the first place. To feel pretty for someone who barely even showed up.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, hastily reaching back over to check your phone just one more time. Maybe he was thinking of what to say, and that’s why he’d left you on seen.

Seen 25 minutes ago

Maybe not.

You hated crying. And more than anything you were tired of doing it, especially when broken promises were the cause of your wasted tears. Your evening was basically wasted, and you weren’t in the mood to do anything else anyway, so you decided that you’d call it a night and head to bed early. You slipped on some comfy sleep shorts, tying your hair up for the night before grudgingly tugging a large t-shirt over your head. Your brow perked up at the scent that wafted past your nostrils, and pinching the shirt with your forefinger and thumb, you brought the fabric to your nose and immediately caught a whiff of Miles’ cologne. You then realized you’d put on a shirt you stole from him a while back, and the way your heart fluttered made you even more upset than you already were. You brushed it off to the best of your ability and crawled into bed, trying your hardest to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you pulled your blankets over your shoulder.

____

As soon as he’d gotten the job done and his Uncle gave him the okay to dip, Miles’ feet were moving at the speed of light down the stairwell. And while he had sort of rushed the plays he made with some of the city’s goons, he just had to pray that all his Uncle’s money was in the banded wad of cash he returned with, or it would be his ass.

Skipping a few steps he hopped down onto the platform before the next set, checking his phone for the time simultaneously.

10:15 PM

“Damn.” He groaned, pushing through the doors, cool wind hitting his face. Once he reached his motorcycle he shoved his helmet over his head, hopped on, and sped off with a “skrrrt”.

He sped through the streets carelessly, something you definitely would’ve scolded him for had you been riding on the back of his bike with him, with your arms tight around his waist to hold on like you always did. He bobbed and weaved through cars, lane splitting between a few of them and he may have even ran a red, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to remember. All he could focus on was that you said you were “done”, whatever the hell that meant, and he was adamant on making sure you weren’t.

____

You didn’t know when you’d dozed off, three steady knocks, a fourth one after a pause hitting against your window, resulting in your eyes snapping open at the disruption. You sat up on your mattress, the ball of your hand rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you peered across the room. Once they adjusted in the darkness and you recognized the familiar, lanky body of your boyfriend standing outside on the fire escape, the events of just two hours ago played over in your mind like a record.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed and swung your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself onto your feet. Miles watched as you sleepily trudged over to the window, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, head slightly lowered and tilted to the side, as if he were already apologizing before you’d even made it to him.

Hooking your fingers underneath the edge of your window, with a quiet grunt you pulled it up, effectively lifting the barrier between your bodies. You instantly felt your yearning for him come back full force, and wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms, but you restrained. Your eyes met his, the cool night air breezing into your room, and his heart clenched. Somehow he was able to feel the coolness in your demeanor, yet the cold weather hadn’t bothered him at all.

He was the first to speak.

“Hola, Mami.” He sized you up once, taking notice of your eyes that were slightly puffy from crying.

His voice was like silk to your ears, alluring and confident, almost hypnotizing, and it aggravated you that you felt yourself gravitating towards him off two simple words.

“Why are you here, Miles?” You sighed, arms slapping at your sides in exasperation.

He looked slightly taken aback, chin lifting a bit as if you’d asked something completely outlandish.

“What you mean why I’m here? You my girl, shit, this my crib too.” He shrugged, so nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. You wondered if it had even been him texting you earlier.

“You left me on seen, remember? Stood me up, too?” Your head cocked to the side to match the attitude in your tone, brows raising at him. What excuse would he use this time?

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before he spoke up again.

“I was… busy. Look, my bad, okay? You gon’ let me in or what? Ian come all the way over here to stand outside.” He demanded with a gesture towards the opening, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight and thawing the ice that’d been temporarily encased around your heart. There was the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips, because he already knew the answer.

Your lips pursed and you stepped to the side, a laggard arm stretched out beside you, silently granting him access to your room.

He stepped through the window frame and you closed it after him, his hands folding around the collar then the hem of his jacket as he adjusted it and turned towards you.

“I can’t keep doing this with you, Miles. It isn’t fair.” You mumbled, hating the way your voice split your words.

His head dipped to the side a bit as he took in your solemn expression and the way your gaze was cast to the floor, as if you were trying to contain your tears. He wasn’t the best at this, he knew that, and showing affection effectively really wasn’t his strong suit. He usually made it up to you by bringing you a few hundreds he’d made from a deal, paired with some roses he’d picked up on the way to your house at the last second— but you both knew paper and flowers wouldn’t fix it this time.

“I’m sorry, I mean it.” He said, reaching for your hand to bring you close and grateful when your eyes finally lifted to lock onto his, although seeing them tear-filled wrapped him in a deep-seated emotion he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

Miles rarely said he was sorry. If ever. Did he apologize? Yes, but it was usually a ‘my bad’ or a ‘my fault’, or some other term that’d get the point across without him have to use too much emotion. Hearing the words ‘I’m sorry’ from him was an anomaly, it happened once in a blue moon, so this time you knew he really meant it. In your heart you knew he meant it, but that didn’t stop the tear you’d been trying to keep at bay from rolling down your cheek.

His thumb caught the tear almost instantly, swiping it from the soft of your skin. It didn’t belong there, and he hated to be the reason why you were crying in the first place.

“Where do you disappear to, Miles?” You sniffled.

He sighed, glancing back over at the window. He considered telling you the truth, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m just tryna keep you safe, ma.”

“You always say that!” You squeaked, making sure to keep your voice down, you had technically snuck him in. You ripped your hand from his grasp, turning your face away from him as another tear fell. “Do you not trust me or something? Is that it?”

“Of course I trust you,” His eyebrows knit together at your question and he stole your hand from your side again.

“So why can’t you tell me?” You pleaded, eyes big and glossy.

“I just-“ He paused. “I can’t let you get hurt. The shit I do…” You watched as he hesitated, like even speaking about the subject pained him. “It ain’t good.” He swallowed, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “And I’ll be damned if I put you in the middle of my shit. I love you… okay?” He moved closer to you, and when you turned from him once again he brought your face right back to his, this time with both his hands. He wasn’t going to let you go, and while Miles was rough around the edges, and seemingly devoid of any emotion other than anger or resentment for the world—he always handled you with care.

“I love you, Y/n, I put that on everything. I’ll burn this whole world down for you, you hear me? Don’t think I won’t.” He stared into your eyes longingly, intent on making sure you didn’t just hear every word, but that you understood them, too.

You couldn’t help but lean into his hand, your own coming up to hold at his wrist as you inhaled shakily and gave him a bleak nod.

That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear you say it.

“Do you understand?” He articulated his words, bringing his head down slightly to match your height a bit more.

“I understand.” You said softly, looking up at him through your lashes before your gaze fell to his lips. He took that as his sign, leaning forward and bringing you into a kiss.

You melted into him immediately, like you always did, eyes fluttering closed as your lips moved against his, and as his hands fell to your hips to pull you in closer, like they always did.

You broke the kiss for air, your hand resting on his bicep and your lips ghosting his as you spoke, as you shared the same breath. “I love you too…” You breathed, standing on your toes.

“Good,” You felt him grin before he pulled away, his hand pinching your chin to make you look at him. “Cause you not leaving me, ever. I can’t let no one else have you, Mami, you know that.” He cooed.

You felt heat flush your cheeks, a smile you couldn’t hide finally spreading on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You answered, chewing at your bottom lip. “Can you stay?” You whispered, eyes shifting between his hopefully as you awaited his answer.

“Ah…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, piping up again before you could get disappointed. “What about your moms?”

“She sleeps in on the weekends, you just gotta be outta here by nine. Please, pa?” You whined, already reaching for his hands.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly, having to look away from the adorable look on your face. He tried to remain in denial of the fact that he was so deep in love with you he could hardly think sometimes, let alone say no, but he was failing. Miserably.

“Of course I’ll stay, mi amor.”

Your expression lit up, a toothy smile brightening your features as he let you lead him to your bed.

He made sure to remove his shoes before he laid down, settling on his back. He extended his arm out to you as he tucked the other behind his head, motioning for you to join him with his fingers.

You crawled into his open embrace, getting comfortable on top of his chest and nuzzling your head under his chin. You began to feel drowsy the second he wrapped his arm around you, a yawn leading your eyes to water. His hand slowly moved from where it was resting on your back, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours comforting to you. His large hand rubbed up and down the expanse of your back, the tips of his fingers drawing lines along your spine— you always fell asleep easier when he did that. You listened to the steady beating of his heart, fingers idly toying with the gold chain he kept around his neck.

“I’m really sorry I ain’t make it tonight. I know you prolly got all pretty for me n’shit… and I wish I got to see it, but that’s on me.” He grumbled. He’d beat himself up over this for a while.

“S’okay.” You say it is, but he knows it’s not. He knows better. “I missed you.” Your quiet voice murmured from below him as you scooted in impossibly closer.

His jaw tensed as he stared up at your ceiling, a deep breath from his diaphragm raising you a little bit with his chest, and lowering you as he released it. “I know.” His response was hushed, and as sleep continued creeping in, you wondered if you’d imagined it.

But when you felt a long, drawn-out kiss press to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, you knew it was real. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was his voice, mellow and gentle as he assured you.

“Ima do better, mama. I promise, for real this time.”

- do not copy, plagiarize, or post my works onto a different platform.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

[churipu]

Idk if u take requests rn, but if you do, could you write fluffy moments with jjk men (pls include toji, i rlly wanna see him w fluff because there is like none) you fav would be cuddling, but you do whatever you want <3 Also, don't stress yourself when writing i, and please take breaks <33

JJK MEN + FLUFFY MOMENTS (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

featuring. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. jjk men being softies

note. i just read the most heart wrenching nanami fic, i think i'm not okay at all </3 but hi anon, thank you for requesting this — this is exactly what i needed after reading angst. i apologize if it took a long time to get this out omg, i hope you like it.

and guys, omg???? 700+ followers? i genuinely never expected my works to be recognized by so much, and meeting new writers here and there, making friends, makes me so happy (i'm not crying) i love u all so so so so much, u guys rock, ily all <;33

TOJI FUSHIGURO

hated talking about the future, but ever since he met you — he rambles about it.

toji has always thought his future was nothing interesting, he kills people for a living, gets money off of it and he gambles. that's about it, so what was there to think about in the future?

meeting you was the firsts to a lot of things in his life.

toji grew up in a loveless household full of anger, and lust for power. which is why he is who he is today. distant, aloof, detached. people tell him he'd be nothing without his strength and face, there is no denying that toji fushiguro has a face card. he knows that.

so when he first met you, all he expected was like every other day. people caring about his face, and only that — and he'd play along although he's had enough of it, but no; you didn't care about all that.

face, money, strength. none of that.

he vaguely remembered the first time you spoke to him: "hey, mind helping me grab that box of cereal?" and he expected you to hit on him after, but you left it at that, muttering out a thanks and then leaving him in the aisle alone.

then for some reason he meets you again, the very next month. asking him the exact same thing, asking for help to take the cereal box which happened to be on the very top of the shelf. god knows why, both you and him just made it a routine every month after that. no communications about meeting and all. you both kind of just, met right in the cereal aisle on one particular day in the month, and then leave.

on the fifth month, he finally asks for your number.

"toji, is that your way of asking me out? because if it is, i'm disappointed."

"maybe."

and then you both kind of just sealed it; you're dating. nothing much changed, every month both you and him still go to the cereal aisle — he still helps you with grabbing the box from the shelf. the only difference was that now the two of you leave together.

toji hates talking about his future. but with you? he could go on for a whole day. he rambles about what he thinks and what he wants in the future with you.

"i wan' to get married. i wan' to marry you," did it caught you by surprise? yes. yes it did, "i wan' to have a family with you, a nice little family. i wan' to have a son so i could throw him around — but a girl is okay too, i can protect her from boys, i'll love them both equally. but i don't think i'll be a good dad to them. i'm scared they won't like me."

"toji, what? where did that come from?"

his back was pressed to your chest as you both lay down on the bed, one of your leg draped over his torso and he has his hand on your plush thigh, squeezing it every once in a while.

"i don't know. just a thought, i never talked about my future with anyone before," his body vibrated as he grunted, leaning his head back a bit, "i just don't think i'll be a good father, y'know?" he squeezed your thigh.

"why do you think so?" you asked him, placing your chin on the crown of his head.

"i just think so."

"stop thinking then," you chuckles, draping an arm around his neck, caressing his throat so softly it made the male shudder under your touch — but he didn't mind, he took comfort under your skin.

"can't." his voice was not stern or bold, it was soft and serene. he laced his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles gently, "i can't believe 'm saying this, but 'm worried about my future. 'm a little scared."

just the fact he was admitting that he's scared about something was mind boggling, because the toji fushiguro? who kills people? was admitting that he was actually terrified of something, which wasn't even the strongest sorcerer. it's his future.

you were silent, letting him talk because when else would he be able to be like this?

"'m terrified. 'm scared i won't make you happy. what if i don't make you happy? what if my kids hate me?" so many questions that you don't even have the answer to, but you placed your hand over his lips, shutting him up.

toji grumbled, he swiped his tongue over your palm.

"ew!" you laugh, wiping your hand on his shirt, "but why're you suddenly talking about this all? which videos have you been watching again?"

"nothing, can't i think about my own future with you?" he shuffles, turning to face you, prepping an arm under his head as he stares down at you. not in the condescending way — he stared at you with so much desperation for love, he slowly blinks, the glint in his eyes never changing.

"why out of the blue?"

"jus' because."

you poked his cheek, "liar."

he sighs, latching his hand onto your hips, pulling you close. he buries his head into your shoulder in content, "jus' worried about it, i never think about my future in the past. but now — with you, i jus' worry about it because i didn't think i'd make it 'till now."

you chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, "you remember that one time in the park when you see that little boy crying over spilled ice cream?"

he hums softly.

"and you bought him another ice cream, but asked me to be the one to give it to him because you were scared you'd scare him off instead?" you ask him, your fingers tangling with his hair lightly.

"yeah."

"you'll be fine, toji." you tell him.

"y'think so?" he retorts back, squirming a bit.

"i know so."

GOJO SATORU

he has to know about everything that you like, he needs to know why you like them. every. single. thing.

gojo chased after you. you were one tough cookie, he likes a chase. he's so used to people fawning over his looks that when you didn't — he just has to know your name.

the curiosity to know your name ended up pulling him in a spiral of this little thing called "love". gojo swore it was just curiosity, but everyone else besides him thinks otherwise, he promised himself and people around that he didn't like you, he was just, well, curious.

but curiosity doesn't look like that. gojo finds himself asking people about what type of boys you like, and when he finds out about it — he tries his best to be your type. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite flower is, and when he finds out about it, he's out there sending big bouquets of it to you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite genre of music is, and when he finds out, he listens to them so he could talk about it with you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite series or movie is, and when he finds out, he watches them all intently so he could talk about them with you and hate on characters together with you. and he still promises that he was just curious.

he was just curious, he kept telling that to himself. so why does it bother him when you were out with another guy? another guy that's not him. not gojo satoru.

gojo asks you about who it was, and when you tell him it's nobody important, he gets upset about it.

"why are you so upset?"

"i'm just..curious."

"it's none of your business."

he left it at that. his whole week was ruined, he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you. and then he finally realizes, he wasn't curious — he was in love. so there he was, in front of your door at two in the morning.

"what?"

"who was that guy?"

"gojo, you're still onto that?" you ask him, tired, "i said it's none of your business. you're here at two just to ask me about that?"

"it's my business because i'm in love with you, damn it!"

gojo was half grateful when you told him it was your distant cousin, but half embarrassed as well. all's well ends well. he gets you in the end, and he doesn't have to worry about anything else — nothing in the world matters to him but you.

"baby, what do you recommend?" was one of the most spoken phrases he has delivered to you.

in restaurants, dessert bars, convenience store, movie theaters, anything you could recommend him, he'd ask for it.

"why do you always ask? don't you have your own preference, satoru? i'm not even sure if you'll like my recommendations though," he smiles at you, tracing small circled on the back of your hand.

"i want to know about everything that you like, and why you like them. i want to know everything about you," you look at him and smiled, honestly, what did we ever do to deserve him?

"why?"

"because i love you." yeah, he wasn't just curious. he's in love. and deep.

NANAMI KENTO

he always orders food that you like, and shares some with you — even if you didn't ask for it.

nanami never expected to be in relationships. in fact, relationships was the last thing in his mind — but when he met you, he just kind of felt attracted. he seeks for your comfort whenever he's tired, and when you weren't there, nanami just sort of drowns in himself until he could see you or hear your voice.

at the beginning of your relationship, nanami was never the one to initiate things because he wasn't an experienced male in relationships. you ask him and he just sort of do it without any other complaints.

but as time goes on, he get the hang of it. what he should do and what he shouldn't — it's adorable, he's started doing things that he never thought he would do in his life, but here he was sitting by your side; peeling apples for you because you wanted them.

"kento, eat some. it's going to be finished by the time you finish peeling every one of them," you joked, your legs on top of his thighs.

nanami hums softly, "it's okay. as long as you like it."

nanami doesn't realize the weigh of his sweet words sometimes, he does it and asks himself to why you were reacting like that. sweet talk is his vocabulary. he says it with no worries, telling you things you've always wanted to hear but never say.

but one thing that always stuck to him and you from the first time you got close up to now was: nanami always orders things that you like. you never understood the reason behind it, and when you tried asking him about it, he just tells you he was craving it.

it didn't seem odd at first — but as time goes on, his whole taste was just an exact copy of yours.

if you get something different than your usual menu, nanami will get your usual menu because he knows damn well that you're going to end up wanting them. although you don't tell him when the food comes, nanami makes it his job to share with you. and that's really sweet of him.

but when you get your usual menu, nanami orders something with elements that you like in them and shares them with you even without you asking for a bite. and not only that, he didn't share a spoonful — he shared a lot.

"ken, you don't have to share with me. i have my own food." you tell him, despite your heart tugging you to just let him share because you were too shy to say that you wanted a bite.

"it's alright sweetheart. i'm a little full." he lies. he ends up snacking on something on midnight, and it's now a routine.

so in exchange for that, you always make it your job to stock up foods ranging from small snacks like biscuits, chips, up to instant or pre-heated food. even cutting up fruits so nanami could snack on it, and he caught on to it pretty quick.

but he didn't complain, he likes it when you do it.

"ken, i cut out some mangoes and dragon fruit. you can eat them if you're hungry."

"thank you y/n."

mutual wins.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Remy with shy gn s/o please?

Remy loves how shy you get whenever he does near enough anything.

Your flustered and cute responses to his affection only made Remy want to smother and flirt with you all the more than he already did! You were far too sweet for many but to him you were just sweet enough that it should be forbidden.

He’d kiss the back of your hand, guide you by the small of your back through crowed areas, press tender kisses against the side of you head just to see that sweet, timid smile of yours that you always made before looking away from him to calm your reaching heart.

It was Remy’s favourite part of being with you is knowing that your reactions were genuine, not an ounce of emotion you’ve shown him was fake or fabricated. You may hate it but Remy loved it more than ever as it meant he could tell the effect he had on you no matter what.

‘Good morning mom Cherie.’ He said while pressing a kiss to your cheek as you smiled sheepishly at him. It fills with nothing but warmth and a sensation that felt as though he had butterflies in his stomach.

‘Good morning Remy.’ You reply and he couldn’t help but steal a kiss from your lips, causing you to squeak in surprise.

‘Remy.’ You whined, ‘we talked about you surprising me with affection and how it gets me.’

‘I know and I’m sorry mom Cher but you are just the sweetest thing alive that I just wanna eat you up.’ Remy replied as he gently nipped at your bottom lip cheekily, causing you to softly swat his arm before crossing your arms over your chest.

‘Am I forgiven?’ - Remy

‘I guess .’ - you

He loved the squeals and jolts you did whether he held you from behind before meting into his hold as though it’ll keep you safe and protected, you had so much trust in him with your heart that he was genuinely worried that he might make you regret giving him such an important task one day.

He respects your boundaries for if you feel things have gone on long enough, he wasn’t going to push you out of your comfort zone for his needs or wants, he just wands and needs you to be happy.

So for now he takes to appreciating every moment he gets to spend with you no matter what as you deserved to be worshiped and appreciated for everything you’ve given him, and if you ever were to show an ounce of insecurity about yourself, Remy was more then ready to shower you in sweet whispers and tender kisses and lovingly hugs to show you that you were everything and more to him if that was even possible.

‘Wouldn’t you be with someone more confident or social?’ You’d ask him one day and it broke his heart to hear you say such things because why should he desire anyone else when he has you.

‘And why do you i should be with someone like that when i have everything I’ll ever want or need right in front of me.’ He replied, kneeling in front of you with worried expression. You shrug. ‘I just don’t think we’re compatible and that what we have won’t last and you’ll find someone who can keep up with you..’

‘Oh mon Cher.’ Remy sighed as he held your hands in his, intertwining your fingers, bringing them to his lips as he kissed each and every one of your fingers. ‘We’re more compatible then you think, you may think we don’t fit well together but to me we couldn’t be two piece of the same puzzle, meant to be in more ways then one. We fill in the others blanks, we balance each other out and there should be nothing more important then that.’ Remy concludes as he eyes your lips.

‘May I kiss you mon Cher?’ He asks

‘You never have to ask but yes, yes you may kiss me. That sounds good right about now.’ You answered chuckling as Remy kissed you gently and slowly but deeply enough to convey his feelings towards you.

Remy didn’t care that you were shy or less interested in social interactions or were more of a homebody type of person, you were perfect the way you were and Remy wouldn’t want you any other way.

[luveline]

Hi I love you coworker! James series feel free to ignore if you don’t like this idea but what if Remus convinced reader to go to a karaoke bar with them and she gets a little tipsy and signs her heart out and James is just heart eyes over it

thanks for requesting <3 fem!reader

“What is that?” James asks, genuinely scornful as he points at you where you’re leaning on the bar. “Is that another margarita? Jesus Christ.” 

“You should be enjoying this.” Sirius smiles around the lip of his beer. 

“Why would I enjoy this?” 

“She’s coming out of her shell, isn’t she? You’re always calling her a priss.” 

“She is a priss, but binge drinking isn’t the same as extroversion.” 

Sirius taps their beers together. “And what are you doing tonight, James?” 

James scowls as you collect your new drink. You’ve had four or five by now and they’ve more than started to affect you, your giggling endless, your hand wrapped around the crook of Remus’ arm for balance. 

“Remus! It’s your turn, hun, get up here!” your general manager calls from the stage, a mic in her hand.

“Me!” you shout suddenly, to James’ shock and Sirius’ bright laughter. “Remus, please let me have your turn, please! I know exactly what song I want to sing.” 

Remus, who’d convinced you to come through a lot of pleading and a promise that you won’t have to sing at all if you weren’t ready, looks at you like you’ve grown horns. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes? Can I please?” 

You take his arm into your hand and you look at him with widened eyes, thumb rubbing a line that James zeroes in on, doesn’t mean to, can’t believe he’s noticed at all. He’s irked you’d even look at Remus that way. 

Because you’re annoying. Yes. Very annoying. 

You drink a good half of your Margarita and ask Remus to hold it for you before you take the steps onto the stage and chat with your general manager about what song you want to sing. You put your hands on the mic stand and prepare yourself with eyebrows pinched together, determined, even though you look a little shaky at the same time. Sirius nudges James from behind, the two of them joining Remus in the small crowd of your coworkers as the music starts. 

There are two screens for lyrics. A huge one for you, a smaller for everyone else beside you. You clutch the mic and stare resolutely at the bigger one as the melody becomes recognisable. James watches in what he thought would be smugness, but instead lays somewhere between awe and mild horror as you begin to sing.

The song is Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Big Head Todd & The Monsters. James loves this song, he sings it every time he has to drive Remus to cornwall. He knows every word back to front and he likes how you seem to like it too, even if you’re butchering it, and the drunken slur to your words is ridiculous. You know the chorus well enough and sing it with a beaming smile. James maybe doesn’t like you, but it’s hard not to smile when someone else is happy like that. 

“Don’t make fun of her, James! Please don’t, she’s trying her best,” Remus says at his smiling. “And she won’t come again.” 

“I’m not,” he says, not bothering to look away from you.

Your eyes scan faces and get caught on his. He can feel the moment you realise he’s watching too, see your slight falter, and then, magically, your excitement. “James! It’s Brandy! You love this song!” 

Sirius snickers at his expression. “Mate,” he says quietly, “I thought you didn’t like her?” 

“I don’t.” 

You stumble a little where you’re standing and James has to stand extremely still so as to prevent his hands from reaching out for you. “James, I didn’t take your favourite song, okay? You have to sing Don’t Stop Believin’! Oh, shit–” You don’t realise your cue to sing the chorus until it’s halfway through, but when you do find the right words, you’re extremely passionate. 

“She sounds like Melly coughing up a hairball,” James says, wrinkling his nose. 

An emotion far from disgust settles hot at the base of his neck. 

“She looks cute,” Remus says.

“Sure, if you’re blind. And deaf.” 

“Well,” Sirius says, “you do wear glasses.” 

[justauthoring]

all too easy.

requested! -> hello!! :D i've loved your fairy tail fics so far and wanted to know if you could write something for laxus? anything would be fine! thank you! -> can you write some laxus x reader fluff please requested by -> anonymous

a/n -> this was sitting unfinished in my drafts for too long and given that fairy tail is returning in a week basically i HAD to finish it (im still in disbelief my first anime is returning!)

pairing -> laxus dreyar x f!reader

"i have a proposition for you."

quirking a brow up at cana, you know instantly that the sly smile and the mischief dancing in her eyes is nothing good.

you loved cana. of course you did. she was part of your family and your friend, not to mention your teammate; but the girl seemed to get a particular kick out of teasing you. you were more often then not the target of her skeems, usually crafted after a few of her barrels were downed. however, being the resident alcoholic of fairy tail, cana's mind seemed to work better inebriated then it would for others.

so her proposition is regarded with hesitance, pulled away from your own thoughts to focus in on her. "...yes?" you ask softly, prompting her to finish and almost instantly she brightens, the smile turning genuine as she takes a seat at the table across from you.

your eyes fall on the barrel of alcohol she promptly drops beside her.

"i'll give you the full reward of our next mission if you drink with me."

okay... so that was certainly not what you were expecting.

brows furrowing, you shake your head. "that's... all?"

still grinning, cana nods. "that's it. i just want you to drink with me." she explains, tapping her barrell for added effect.

"why?" you ask instantly, not trusting how... simple her request. it's definitely a set up of some sort... the only problem is you can't figure out what or just what her angle is. "you've never asked me to drink with you before and we've known each other a long time so—"

"y/n?"

"yes?"

"i just want to drink with my best friend," she says, her voice oddly soft and sincere in a way that it normally never is. you knew cana cared, of course, but she was rarely ever this serious. "and i know you don't like drinking so im bribing you."

you pause, regarding her for a moment longer. you let your eyes drag across her, taking in her expression and trying to find some sort of hint that there was something beyond what she meant.

you couldn't find anything.

the guilt starts to well then. it seemed cana truly just wanted to have a drink with you and you think back to all the times you'd rather quickl denied her request. it never was more than just because you could not keep up with cana without getting incredibly drunk and you were... not a fun drunk to say the least.

but... you supposed a few drinks couldn't hurt.

"okay," you concede, nodding as you signal mira to bring the two of you some cups. "i'll drink with you."

cana lets out a whoop, her hand pumping the air and you watch on with a laugh, shaking your head.

-

it's not just a few drinks.

it's practically her whole barrel and before you know it, you're thoroughly drunk. your words slur and your movements are jagged, you're not even fully conscious of what you're saying or doing; all you know is that you're having fun and there's not a single care in regard to anything else.

somewhere along the way, as to be expected, other members of the guild started to join in the fun. wakaba and macao were the first, then team natsu returned from a mission and of course, natsu was quick to join in the celebration. he'd tugged lucy and happy with him and gray, erza and wendy trailed behind.

with them came the rest.

the whole guild was in an uproar and you were basking the full of it.

completely unaware of the eyes watching you quietly, you linked arms with cana, the both of you singing loudly, out of pitch and without a single care in the world. some of the guild members watched on in amusement, clapping and cheering the both of you on.

you'd ended up on a table without meaning to, dancing around without watching your step. it takes five minutes before you inevitably trip, stepping back only for your foot to land on nothing, and feel yourself slipping back as your arm slips from cana.

you register that you're falling but you're inebriated state leaves you unable to catch yourself, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you wait to slam into the floor beneath you. your eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, but...

but you never hit the ground.

instead, you're enveloped in warmth. arms catch you, wrapping around your back and under your knees as you're held against a firm chest. with a gasp, you open your eyes, only to see laxus looming over you, eyes flickering across you as if assessing you for any injuries.

"laxus!"

his name leaves your lips in a squeal of surprise and it seems the commotion of everything caught the attention of the guild as there's cheers called out for laxus' save and a few whistles that has your cheeks burning.

you expect laxus to let you go, but he just stands up straight, still silent and still holding you close to him. his eyes flicker across the rest of the guild and then he's turning, making his way to the guild doors—with you.

"aw! laxus! don't ruin all the fun!"

it's cana who calls out, voice pitching and loud but laxus just shakes his head, never faltering in his step, opening the guild doors and letting them fall shut behind him. the chaos of the guild grows muffled and instead instantly, and you're left out in the cool magnolia air, only then realizing how late it had gotten.

"where... where are we going?" you ask tentatively, unsure of your own voice and hating the way your words still slightly slur.

"i'm taking you home."

you nod, more to yourself than anything. nearly falling had taken you from your stupor slightly but your mind was still jumbled and you could clearly feel the effects of alcohol coarsing through your system; it didn't help that it was laxus that had caught you or that you were alone with him.

for as long as you can remember you've had a raging crush on him.

being apart of the guild since you were a little girl, you'd had a schoolgirl crush on laxus; it was a mix of the fact that he was older and you'd been enamoured with his magic. only, you never really grew out of it. even when he'd done his attack on fairy tail, your heart had been in a state of conflict between your feelings and the cruel actions he'd done.

and when he'd been kicked out? you'd been distraught; only to be ecstatic when he returned that day on tenrou island. sure, it had been followed by being asleep for seven years, but regardless, laxus had returned and it seemed with it his attitude had changed.

while he'd never been cruel to you, you'd spent most of your time watching him with adoring eyes. but when you'd all returned from tenrou, there was a noticeable difference in laxus. he was still quiet and he did tend to stick to himself, but where he'd been cruel and crude before, he was awkward and endearing. he was considerably kinder and the two of you had even grown closer in the passing months since.

needless to say, that schoolgirl crush had grown into a fullout 'i-like-you-so-much-i-can't-fuction-around-you' crush.

so, clearly, you were freaking out.

it takes you a moment to realize you're still in his arms, wrapped securely around your waist and the blush deepens as you hastily worm your way out of his grasp, pushing against his chest. the action causes laxus to halt in surprise, turning to glance down at you with parted lips as you frantically wave your hands in front of you.

"i-i can walk home on my own," you rush out, words still clearly slurring. "i me-mean, thank you for catching me but you don't need to... you don't need walk me home. i don't want to be a bother."

there's a beat of silence, then; "you're not a bother."

and you blink, stunned, eyes flickering up to meet his calm and steady ones.

"i don't mind," he clarifies, the words somewhat awkward. are his cheeks red or are you just imagining that? "i... i want to make sure you get home safe."

"oh."

you regret the second you say it, feeling like a complete fool as your cheeks burn and you stare back at him like an idiot.

blinking, you force yourself to speak; "o-okay, then."

you turn and he follows and then the two of you are walking again. it's awkwardly silent and you're mentally cursing yourself because it wasn't like this was the first time you've ever been alone with laxus so why can't you think of anything to say? you want to blame it on your inebriated state but you know that isn't completely it.

his words, though probably not meant by anything more, of wanting you to get home safe is getting to your heart and making your heart race—and that is making your brain short circuit on what to say.

you're so lost in your own thoughts you aren't watching when you're stepping and for the second time that night you lose your balance, tripping and tipping forward as your vision blurs.

this time you're sure you're going to fall but you forget that laxus isn't a s-class ranked wizard for nothing, and his reflexes allow him to slip his arm around your waist with ease. once again you feel you back press against his firm and warm chest, and you're positive you might pass out.

"maybe i should just carry you."

you blink, wide eyes turning to face laxus and you're even further surprised to see the small grin on his face at his own teasing.

"i-i..." but no words leave your lips because you have no argument. "sorry..."

laxus just shakes his head but before you can say anything more, he's shifting, his arm slipping underneath the bend of your knees and your axis is tilted as he lifts you into his arms, bridle style.

"oh!"

he shuffles, making sure you're properly in his arms before meeting your gaze; "this okay?"

letting out a shaky breath, you don't dare try to speak—knowing you'll only make more of a fool of yourself—and nod with burning cheeks.

the rest of the walk goes pretty uneventful from there. you don't live far from the guild so laxus reaches your small apartment with ease having been there before when returning from a mission that you and cana had joined laxus' team for. you'd moved out of the fairy apartments a while ago because although you loved the girls, having a space to your own was something you'd desperately needed.

you're more than thankful for that in this moment cause you don't think you could handle the embarrassment of any of the girls seeing laxus carry you home.

you hand him your key when you reach your door and instead of leaving the second he's set you down inside, you're pleasantly surprised by how laxus stays.

swallowing thickly, you shuffle in front of him; "once again, thank you. for-for everything."

laxus' eyes fall on you, nodding; "of course." then, after a moment, he adds; "i... uh, was surprised to see you drunk. you normally don't join cana on her bad habits."

tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, you glance at your feet; "yeah... definitely learnt my lesson for that one."

laxus pauses; "i mean... i wouldn't mind if it meant i got to be the one to walk you home."

you're sure you misheard that. had... had laxus just been flirting?

turning to him, your lips part; "what?"

this time you're sure his cheeks are red.

"you're cute drunk," is what he says, stunning you further. "it bothered me how some of the other guys there were eyeing you so when i saw you fall, i... well, made sure i was the one to catch you."

he promptly avoids your gaze all while he speaks, rubbing the back of his neck and cheeks as flushed as yours.

"o-oh..." you mumble, before cursing yourself. stupid you and stupid brain for shortcircuting. "i-i mean... are you saying what i think you're saying?"

slowly, laxus' eyes shift to yours.

"yeah..." he breathes, "especially if you feel the same."

for the first time you're thankful for your inebriated state that gives you the courage to close the small distance between the two of you and promptly press your lips against laxus'. you fall against him with a swoosh, hands wrapping around his neck as you let your eyes flutter shut, sinking into him further the second he tugs you closer by the waist.

it's exactly like you always hoped it would be and you can hardly believe you're kissing him even as his lips slant against your own.

a moment later, breathless, you pull away, chest rising and falling with laxus' as he cups the back of your head and meets your gaze.

your eyes flicker from his eyes back to his lips.

"we-we shouldn't."

and at first you're panicked, heart stopping momentarily, but laxus is smiling in a way you've never seen before (and a way that takes you breath away) and shakes his head; "i don't want our first time to be while you're drunk. i have no doubt of my feelings, but i want you to be sober."

could your heart possibly swoon anymore?

biting your lip, you smile, wide; "at least spend the night?"

laxus grins; "of course."

-

"so... did you and laxus have a good night?"

eyes zoning in on cana, you frown; "what does that mean?"

shrugging, with her regular barrel in between her legs, "nothing," she says, playing it off nonchalantly. "just, you two left together last night and came to the guild this morning together. it's a bit suspicious, don't you think?"

you stare at her for a moment longer, taking in her grin and the twinkle of mischief in her eyes and promptly gasp; "you got me drunk on purpose!"

cana glances away; "i have no idea what you're talking about!"

"yes, you do!" you accuse, pointing your finger at her. "you wanted me to make a fool of myself... so... so what? laxus would come in and help?"

cana scoffs; "the two of you were ridiculous. always making heart-eyes at each other," she laughs. "i had to step in. for you, of course."

rolling your eyes, you stare at her in disbelief.

staring past you, cana just grins; "it worked didn't it?"

and you're confused at first, until a hand settles on your shoulder and you glance up to meet laxus' familiar and soft look.

"hey," he smiles and for all his talk of being tough, it seems even he can't fight the lovesick grin off his face.

a quick glance at cana tells you she's drinking her victory in, but really, you can't be all that angry when you see the way laxus is looking at you.