#i love him he the only man ever!!!!!!!!!!

[adiadagaki]

babyfever!satoru virtually combusts when you get the OK to bring your son home, the baby carrier in his hand a new beginning, one he owed to you.

babyfever!satoru has all of your presents waiting for you when you get home, and he most certainly went overboard but he has no apologies, there was nothing you didn’t deserve after giving birth to a literal human being.

babyfever!satoru is first to get up when you or your son need anything, the man has springs in his feet and not a complaint in his body.

babyfever!satoru goes above and beyond.

“Toru, he is due a feeding, can you-”

The atoms in the air shift, a brief wave of nausea hitting you as your surroundings blur. You are back home. In your living room.

Looking behind you, you see Satoru fluffing a pillow, your favourite snack and drink on the coffee table and the show you are currently watching playing on the TV.

“Can I get you anything else sweets?”

babyfever!satoru is obsessed with your boobs ever since you started lactating, this man has a greedy mouth and he isn’t ashamed of it at all. He nips, bites, kisses, sucks until your breasts are marked up and so sensitive the lightest brush of air makes you flinch.

babyfever!satoru doesn’t let anybody babysit your baby, and that means no one. He doesn’t care how long he has known them, worked with them or even if they have saved his own ass, he trusts no one with his babies life, but you his perfect little wife.

babyfever!satoru takes time off work for the first 6 months of your sons life, only to become a house husband because you were excited to return to work, and whatever wifey wants wifey gets (he made you go down to part time, but hey is he a monster for wanting his family around 24/7?)

babyfever!satoru is thankful for the life you have gifted to him every day and he will never stop showing you just how much he loves you for blessing him with this reality.

Part 1 Part 2

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

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[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromas with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromas together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[ofbatsandballads]

have a little Jason drabble inspired by me going to my work bestie’s bachelorette party tonight. yes, yes I did imagine all this while getting ready and what about it? also consider this a part of my jason gets the girl series.

Jason Todd is a worrier. You knew that the very first night you met him when he automatically assumed that you, a woman living alone and wearing fuzzy pajamas, would be a danger to him. You know that now by his incessant questions that he’s been pelting at you for the past hour.

“You’ll keep in contact with me, right?” he asks from the other side of the shower curtain.

“Of course, Jay,” you reply as you twist like a contortionist while shaving your legs.

“I know it’s a bachelorette party, but please don’t drink so much that you don’t know what’s goin’ on around you, baby,” he says, voice raised so you can hear him over your hair dryer.

“I know, Jay. I’ve not forgotten where we live!” you shout back as reassuringly as you can.

“You sure I can’t convince ya to stay here with me?” he asks, only half joking, as you flip through the hangers in your shared closet looking for what to wear.

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” you concede as he kisses down your neck. “But no. Alas, I cannot be a shitty friend.”

“Fine. But at least wear somethin’ that goes with the jacket I got you,” he grumbles.

You laugh under your breath. This man. He’s such a worry wart. But you get it. Jason goes out every night into the belly of the beast, sees the worst of the worst. He knows what happens to vulnerable young women in this city, and you can’t blame him for his overprotective nature. So if wearing the tan leather jacket, a smaller replica of the one he wears as Red Hood, that has a tracker sewn into the interior is what he needs to ease his anxious mind, you’ll do it without complaint.

“It’s a gorgeous jacket, Jaybear. It goes with everything,” you say as you scratch soothingly at his scalp.

“You know where you’ll be tonight?” he asks from the foot of your bed, watching you as you put on your makeup.

“Uh huh. We’re not going to any bars or clubs or anything like that. Maid of honor just rented a penthouse in the Diamond District. We’ll probably spend the night eating pizza and drinking cocktails,” you answer as you try not to stab yourself in the eye with your mascara wand.

Jason makes a little grunt of agreement. You idly think that he sounds just like his dad, but you also don’t say that because you’re not a complete idiot. Also because you once told Jason he looked like Bruce and how miraculous that was since he was adopted, and he spent the next three days mumbling 'don't look anythin’ like the old man’ every time he glanced in a mirror.

You glance behind you in the vanity mirror to see the love of your life. His expression tugs your heartstrings. He looks so…melancholy. Emotions are storming in his sea green eyes and all you want is to ease his worries. You lay down your makeup brush and pad over to him, settling down in his lap. His hands come up automatically to rest on your hips, thumbs stroking over the softness.

“What’s wrong, angel?” you whisper, smoothing out the creases between his furrowed eyebrows with the tips of your fingers.

“I don’t—” he stops abruptly, tries to find the words he needs. “I’m not tryin’ to be overbearing. Don’t wanna be one of those guys that tells their girl what to do.”

He takes a breath and you stay silent. He has to get this out and you’ll wait as long as it takes.

“I just…worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t,” and his voice breaks like stained glass. “I wouldn’t survive it. I know this is fuckin’ stupid. Me actin’ like this over a bachelorette party but I just…I can’t stop thinkin’ about all the things that could happen.”

Oh. Oh, your sweet, loving, heaven sent boyfriend. You know his past haunts him, that this city haunts him. You wish you could take all his worries away and wrap him in a nice warm blanket. You’d tuck him away from the world, keep him safe and happy and cared for all his days if you could.

“Jason, look at me,” you tilt his head up with your fingers under his jaw. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to be as safe as possible. I won’t drink irresponsibly. I’ll make sure to text you if anything, and I mean anything, starts to get weird. It won’t, but if it did you would be on speed dial. And trust me, angel, I have no intentions of staying the night.”

You don’t. Good friend or not, you can’t sleep well if you’re not wrapped in the strong arms of the man beneath you.

“So I expect you to be waiting on that tricked out bike of yours to pick me up,” you beam at him, run your hand through his hair because you know it makes him melt into your touch.

“I’ll be waitin’ for you,” he says, a solemn promise that extends far beyond tonight.

“Good. Now that being said, I will be bringing home all the dick decorations because I wanna plant them in your brother’s apartment. Just to fuck with him,” you giggle.

Jason lights up for the first time tonight. His green eyes gleam with mischief and adoration.

“Oh, you are my fuckin’ soulmate, baby. I’ll help you break in.”

[bloodrelationsofheavenandearth]

but i want it (sweet as cherry wine)

˗ˋˏ ✰ ˎˊ˗ desc; how does it feel to hold a hand, one that fits as if it were meant to do so with your own?

˗ˋˏ ✰ ˎˊ˗ pairing; himeko : firefly : gepard : jing yuan : feixiao : argenti : aventurine : sunday : mydei : aglaea ➜ x gn!reader

˗ˋˏ ✰ ˎˊ˗ mlist; !!!!!

himeko is the needle on your compass, the northern star in the sky and holds you steady- your anchor to warmth, your hearth and your home. the times that you manage to hold them, her hands are warm to the touch, usually second-hand from the coffee she always seems to have on hand; she always smells like coffee, too, rich and a little bit fruity. it lingers on her skin like ichor, soft and warm like the feeling of home- she is home, always. when she holds your hand she is caking you home, cradling one or both between her own, keeping your warmth entwined with hers because that’s just how it is. how it will stay.

firefly’s hands are familiar- not because they’re the same hands that cradle you often, but familiar in the way that makes your soul settle, stretched out lazily like a house cat under your skin. to hold her hand is to return to yourself, it is to envy the way the sky wraps itself around the sun and the moon and envy for that same closeness. it is the familiarity of matter, of what you are and will be coalescing, a bone deep ache that is soothed.

now, if you’d like to hold his hand- you’ve got to get gepard out of his gloves, first. whilst they keep his hands- big, strong, calloused hands- warm and safe during the day, they’re unfortunately not made with the idea of far sweeter things in mind. time and duty permitting, he’ll shuck them off like they burn him as soon as you, so dear to him, come into his view. holding his hand is to be encompassed, to feel the graze of his thumb over your knuckles and hand it brought up to his mouth; his cheeks are red, from the cold and you, always you. he needs, desperately, to be gentle enough, to covey all that he can’t when he is off doing his duty. you, the balm to the frigid cold.

jing yuan is a man of many people’s fascinations- yet, how amusing to you, that he seems so fascinated by simply holding your hands. ever the charmer, kissing your wrists and knuckles and palms and whispering into your skin- he is quiet afterwards, plays with your fingers and traces manicured nails over your skin. his hand, holding yours, is an endless stretch of time condensed into seconds; fleeting and effervescent, timeless and unshakeable. the press of the pads of his fingers mimic his devotion that sweetens on your tongue like honey, the weight of his palms against yours like the thudding weight of another heartbeat, intertwined together with yours. thumpthump. thump. thumpthump. thump.

perhaps, feixiao has a tendency to be a little rough around the edges- only sometimes. her hands reflect her well, especially so when you can snag them within your own; her anxiety, her anger, her mirth, her exhaustion. you alone cradle her in your hands, the cyclonic emotion that pours out of her like waves lapping at the shore. you stand, with her, cradling each other, in the eye of the storm. she is a cyclone, a constant ebb and flow that gives and takes and shelters you within herself. often, this is the case when she squeezes your hands- strength and love and loyalty and shelter.

perhaps one thing to note, is that argenti is usually never not holding your hand. or linking pinkies. or offering you his arm to hold. or somehow, in someway, near enough to feel him pressing some piece of himself to some part of you. he’s sweet, bottled sunshine that spills out of his body and burns itself into your being with its light- holding his hand is like holding the sun. holding it, cupped between your hands, reflecting its brilliance into your skin and shining its light through your body; it bounces off of your ribs and bursts out of your eyes, buries itself into your lungs and lodges so deeply it will never return completely to the sky. holding his hand is mundane, domestic, and an everyday occurrence; yet his brilliance will always be a live wire, buried in your chest and tethering you close.

holding hands with aventurine is always going to be just a little bit different each time- not because he pulls some kind of trick or because he’s unpredictable or anything of the sort. he, quite simply, just hasn’t yet found a completely sound way to honour the feeling of your hand in his. he draws from within himself to count his own luck, tracing over a freckle on the inside of your wrist. the stars bursting behind his eyelids grow ever in number when he finds a new pattern to trace over your fingers, a new way to touch the skin over your knuckles and configure a mind map every time. this, this feeling is something not even he will gamble

ever one for order, sunday is as expected, meticulous in the care he ensures in such a simple act. it is an act that is cyclical, a routine cultivated between the two of you out of careful consideration for the other; a tentative melody when your fingers brush, quickly meeting a crescendo when palms greedily press together to seek assurance. it is harmonious, yet there is a quiet strength- comforting in its presence, always known to be and never, ever taken for granted.

mydei who is ever the warrior, ever the one to weather the storm has hands like one would expect; there lay thin scars from youth, split knuckles and well worn callouses over his hands that speak of his character. these are hands that know violence. these are hands that are hard and strong and unwavering. and yet.. to hold his hand is to cradle his hardness, it is to bolster his strength like kindling to a fire or gasoline and a match. it is to let him pull you into his ribcage and make a home for you of his own skeleton, it is to be his blood and muscle and his heart. because what is a warrior without a worthy cause, a worthy reason to be strong?

to be graced by aglaea, to merely gaze upon her visage is already a beauty to be consumed of- to get closer, to feel the softness of her hands and the croon of her voice is an implosion. often, holding her hands leads to conversations that leave you levitating- knowledge shared between two lovers, whispers on the wind and sweet as morning dew. sometimes the knowledge is monotonous, or spellbinding or even a tad ridiculous; yet it always sears itself into your skin, embeds like hooks and has you strung up like a puppet on strings. to hold her hand is to languish in her beauty, in her passion and her drive you simply be who she is.

notes; sigh.. i got back into hsr again (i want mydei & anaxa & thank GOD i have a guaranteed character) and i wanted to post something! idk if half of these are coherent or for any of the characters fully, but like, it’s something :’) i took inspo from this i did for ff16 a while ago^ i can do more characters if they’re wanted in terms of hsr, just let me know!

© bloodrelationsofheavenandearth 2025 ☁︎

[penrose42]

You ever have a friend that became a fanatic Most of you all haven't But if you ever did You'd understand the one thing they all have in common That somebody took advantage of their damage as a kid I knew a guy who's folks were professors Proof in the flesh that Allah was a blesser Grew up in a mid-western town, where there weren't many brown people he could seek reflection Got picked on in school during lectures Graduated hating everybody in his class Picked on because he prayed five to the east And he didn't eat meat that Allah said was bad One day a man approached him in a mosque Changed his life when he asked him a question Do you ever feel your life was a loss And what if I could teach you that life is a weapon Attracted strong to the feeling of acceptance He was soon gone with delusions of a cause People of the present had faces of the past, make it easier to blast them if he feel they did him wrong You can raise a child in a house full love But can't keep them safe in a world full of hate So he blew up The only mistake that could hold all the blame

You grew up

something i keep experiencing

[unpretty]

Rare non-kink-taxonomy-hell ask: your description of Sorrowverse Joker as actually good at manipulation and gaslighting, to the point where the act he puts on might sometimes resemble Therapy Joker, has actually made me interested in a version of the Joker. Which has never happened before. Could we hear more about him/this aspect of him? Love your writing btw

what if we had a rare limited-time crossover event

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 🤡:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

"Helloooooo nurse."

"Don't whistle," she snapped, shutting the door. "I'm doing you a favor," she reminded him.

"I thought you were recognizing that denying me cosmetics had no purpose but to dehumanize me," he said.

"You know what I mean," she said, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. "And I'm not a nurse." She pulled the sparkly pencil case she'd brought from the pocket of her coat to offer it to him.

He did not so much rise from his bed as unfold. A spider of a man, all long spindly limbs in ill-fitting pale pink. With all the green of the rest of him, it made him look floral, a mop of green hair and his eyes pastel. Even the white of his skin had a green tinge on closer inspection. She'd been sure it reminded her of something and had spent hours online trying to find it. She'd decided on a small emerald moth, staring at stock photos of delicate wings almost translucent and trying to remember where she ever could have seen one.

Charming as a bouquet full of insects.

He plucked the bag from her hand and pulled what looked like a butterfly knife from inside. He grinned, and when he did his face seemed to grow twice as long and half of it teeth. Gleaming purple metal spun between long fingers, but when he pointed it at her to watch her recoil, it had the teeth of a comb. He waggled his eyebrows at her before running it through his hair, using both hands and raising his elbows much higher than necessary so his shirt rode up. She pressed her lips together rather than dignify the performance with a response.

His eyebrows were still pristine and had been since he'd been admitted. Precise arches with edges razor-sharp.

Without products to keep it in place, his hair fell back down at an angle from his widow's peak. "Don't pretend I'm not funny, Dr. Quinn," he said, metal twirling between his fingers again.

"Quinzel," she corrected.

"Nurse Harlequin," he said, rummaging through the limited personal effects she'd brought him. It was absurd to refuse anyone these few small comforts. She'd always thought so. It was punitive, the way they denied any dignity to anyone they were meant to be treating.

There but for the grace of God, she thought and tried not to.

"I don't have a mirror," he declared, holding a red vial she was sure could not be blood. He reached out to touch beneath her chin. "Hold still."

"Mr. J," she warned, refusing as she always did to refer to him by the only name they had for him.

"I love it when you call me that," he said with relish, using her glasses as a mirror to apply tint to his lips with a wand. "Say it again, doll."

"If they catch you wearing lipstick—"

"It's stain," he said dismissively. "They can't prove it. For all they know I got this the old-fashioned way, sucking dick in the bathroom again."

"Agai—"

"Excellent work, Harley," he said, and then his lips were on hers. She made a muffled sound of indignation and was careful not to move. He'd done this before, the first time they'd met, when he'd learned her name and had a good laugh about it. She'd slapped him for it then, hadn't protested when they'd put him in isolation for it. "Aw," he said as he pulled away, touching her lower lip. "I know it hadn't dried yet, but it doesn't show on you, does it?"

It was only stain, but his skin was so pale the red popped, his grin grotesque. A caricature of something unwholesome, white as a sheet and a mouth like a minstrel, too dark a thought to trust. It was hard not to think the worst of people, ascribe symbolism to nothing at all, fall into spirals. Enough real dog whistles without her inventing new ones.

"That's unacceptable behavior," she said, "and that's not my name."

"You don't call me by my name," he said, tapping the tip of her nose, "and I don't call you by yours." He dropped the pencil case back into her hands before she realized what he was doing, and she had to scramble to catch it in time. "Besides, you seem like a good ride." He made an exaggerated handlebar-revving gesture with both hands and winked as he stepped away from her. Something Fred Astaire in his footwork when he walked. She was careful to stay where she was, tucking the contraband back into her pocket.

"Do you harass all your doctors this way?" she asked pointedly, fixing her glasses again.

"Aggressively," he confirmed as he fell back into his bed. "The rest of them don't like it as much as you do, naughty girl." He sprawled sideways, propping his head up in a pose that might have been provocative if he'd had a curve anywhere but the jutting bones that slotted his hands into his forearms. "It's why they locked me up for being a deviant," he said with a limp-wristed gesture.

"They locked you up for killing people," she corrected.

"They were rich," he scoffed. "That doesn't count as people." Her nose crinkled, pressing her lips together again rather than do anything he'd interpret as a laugh. "You can tell because they didn't send me to prison."

"They didn't send you to prison because Gotham's justice system is fucked," she said. Arkham was privately owned with a budget inflated by charitable donations. It was inevitable that expensive-looking criminals were judged criminally insane, the worst of their excesses no longer a taxpayer problem.

He cocked his head. "Do I look sane to you?" he asked.

"Sane doesn't look like anything," she said. "We both know you knew what you were doing, and there's no medical intervention that would make you behave differently."

He grinned, too wide, too many teeth. She tilted her head a little, only enough to see around the edge of her glasses and confirm that his mouth blurred. "Yet here you are," he said.

"Rehabilitation isn't the exclusive domain of the medically impaired."

This job had been a nightmare from the beginning. Every day in large and small ways it wore her down, an endless river of bullshit trying to smooth down every part of her that believed in anything. No accountability, barely treatment, shifts too long with coworkers as sick as the patients. Less like doctors with patients and more like researchers with lab rats. Rubber stamps and no rocked boats and no goals greater than the status quo. Cameras easily bypassed by any employee who cared to, for whatever reason struck their whim. Her no better.

She should have done more. Her job shouldn't have been worth more than her principles. She could have done more than this, makeup and candy and burner phones in her pockets. She kept notes and told herself she'd blow the whistle someday. She kept her head down and kept her health insurance and knew herself for a traitor.

"Come closer," he said, gesturing with his fingers.

She was halfway across the room before she thought to stop and ask, "Why?"

He was grinning again. "Because I wanted to see if you would," he said, and at the look on her face he threw his head back to cackle. She pressed her nails into her palms and felt her face burn. "This might sound racist," he began.

"Then don't," she warned.

"No, no, it's not like that, I just—"

"Don't."

"I can't tell if you're blushing!" he said, exasperated. He swung his legs around to sit upright, his knees a mile apart. "That's all I was going to say, honestly. Is that bad? You can tell me if it's bad."

"I would call that an 'inside thought'," she said, still blushing. He cackled again.

"Really, though," he said, crooking his fingers again, "you should come over here."

"Why?" she asked first this time.

"So I can kiss you stupid," he said.

Her face felt hot again. "I'm not doing that."

He rolled his eyes so dramatically it took his whole face with it. "I have to come over there?" he asked rhetorically, gesturing at her. "Come on, now, doll. Give yourself a little agency, here. I'm locked up. You get to leave. That little love tap earlier was fine, there were cameras on, I get it, kind of hot if I'm honest, pretty into that. But I've got limits too, you know. You want me to play the big bad taking advantage, that's fine, I'm into it, but trust's a two-way street. Get over here and make it clear you know what you're here for, yeah? Despite what your bosses think, I'm not actually an animal. I'm not sitting here waiting for pretty girls to maim."

"I don't think that," she said, defensive.

"Naw," he said, "you're just coming in here when you're not supposed to be and standing in grabbing range, waiting for nothing to happen. Get over here or leave, I'm not going anywhere."

She half-turned, looking at the doorknob, but hesitated. She wanted the last word, but didn't have one ready and her throat was dry regardless. She felt sick.

"You're real scared I'm gonna laugh at you, huh?" he asked, and she whipped her head around to stare at him. He was leaning forward, chin on his fist, watching her. The pale shade of his eyes made it more predatory than it otherwise would have been. His smile was a wry gash across his face. "That happen a lot?" he asked, cocking his head. "Men telling you you're pretty as a prank, asking you out to make fun when you believed it?" She scowled, and his smile split into a grin. "Awww. Poor l'il Harley. C'mere, then. You wanna make a show of being vulnerable, be vulnerable. Least you can do, don't you think?"

The worst part was realizing, the moment he said it, that it was the thing she most dreaded. That he'd laugh at her for believing him.

She came close enough to stand between his knees, but couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. She looked at the hole in his ear where they hadn't let him keep his earrings, instead.

"There's a doll," he said, grabbing her wrist and yanking so she'd fall into his lap. She narrowly avoided her knee hitting him somewhere awkward. She was distracted by how bony his thighs felt compared to hers, all his limbs too thin as his arms went around her waist. He kissed beneath her ear, and she thought of his mouth, the wide span of it and all those teeth at her throat. "Doesn't being honest with yourself feel better?" he asked against her skin.

"This is very, very bad," she breathed, her voice shaking. Her own body heat was mortifying. He felt halfway to a corpse.

"Awww, don't be like that," he said, and she could feel him smiling. All those teeth. "What's the worst that could happen?"

[muqingslover]

Hi! If you're open to requests, what would you think the lads men (or just one guy of your choice!!) would do in the following scenario?

They are out with mc when they run into mc's ex, and mc's ex says, "Damn, your taste in men changed a lot" in like a condescending manner. (Or something along those lines)

I hope you have a great time!! I love reading your stories!!

[ Thank you for the request! <3 I did a little of everyone so enjoy! ]

Sylus

"Your tastes sure have changed since the last time I saw you." is the first thing that actually catches his attention during the otherwise boring conversation.

Sylus is not an overly jealous person simply because he is very secure of his love for you and how good he is to you. The only thing your ex does is greatly amuse him because the difference is too great to even be considered fair.

"Naturally. You surely don't expect someone to eat trash forever, do you?" He would answer for you in a smooth voice while he towers over the both of you with that confident expression of his on his face.

He feels almost sorry for you, who had to make do with such men, but, not to worry, he's here now and he's not going anywhere.

Xavier

Taunting his jealous side is the same as playing with fire while knowing you're going to get burn.

"Is that the type of guy you prefer?" He'd ask the second the two of you are alone again. His hands pin you to the closest surface so you're unable to run from the conversation and he keeps his face very close to yours to watch for even the smallest reactions "Do you like him more than me?"

My advice? Say no as quickly as possible and give him a kiss to shush him otherwise you're in for the long, loooooong haul. Xavier is not easily soothed once he's worked up and he WILL hold grudges.

The next time your ex shows up he is quick to cut the conversation before they can even get a good morning in and makes it clear you belong to him now.

Rafayel

"What did you just say?" His head never whipped back faster mans almost twisted his own neck.

Arguably the most aggressive per se because he's SO obvious. To him it's just staggering you ever went out with anyone else, especially a thing like that, and that it's here, again, approaching you. Does it not see him? He's right there for god's sake!

"She's on duty so she can't talk to you right now. Or ever." He'd grab you by the shoulder as he sized the guy up and down with the most condescending and judgmental look on his face before scoffing. what a diva

He'll nag at you later for being "distracted while on the job" and say you're supposed to pay attention to him at all times otherwise how will his dear bodyguard protect him? Please be more mindful!

Caleb

It was a school reunion party when your old high school sweetheart came up to the both of you.

"Oh hey, I remember you! Weren't you the guy who got kicked out for cheating on his graduation exam?" He says with an innocent grin on his face knowing full well the guy is a deadbeat and making sure others heard it too.

It's canon he kept track of all crushes MC had while growing up and I'm sure he goes out of his way to show you their bad points so you won't even consider looking their way.

In some cases, Caleb had to get rid of them by manipulating things behind the scenes if they didn't take the hint and this one was one of those cases.

The guy was struggling with his grades and who is he to deny a helping hand? All he did was slip the sheet of answers to the test without anyone knowing, it's not his fault if the idiot accepted it knowing it was against the rules. Such an angel, isn't he.

This interaction will lead to him being even more territorial around you and he wants you to just stay home with him where it's safe. Pretty please?

Zayne

He will step in if they are bothering you by pretending he needs your immediate help in the office but otherwise Zayne merely listening in the background.

Once they're gone the silence is so loud.

You can basically feel that he's bothered by something, but he won't open his mouth even if you ask him about it because it's 'petty and childish'.

"Are you happy with me?" He'd eventually ask you after stewing in his own thoughts for the day. What if your tastes hadn't changed and you were just too nice to tell him he's not doing enough? That he is not enough.

Please reassure this sweet man that you're happy in the relationship. Especially so if your ex is the type that is super extroverted and easy to get along with since that's one of the points he struggles with the most.

The problem goes away on its own after some good quality time together and affectionate words.

[hoe4hotchner]

Retirement | [A.H]

Pairing: Retired!Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Nothing but cuteness

A/N: Don't worry, Hotch is not an old man he's like late 50's early 60's in this based on Jack being in college ;)

The porch was bathed in the golden light from the afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the wooden planks. The gentle creak of the rocking chair kept rhythm with the distant hum of cicadas, a sound that had become so familiar it felt like part of the air itself.

A soft breeze carried the scent of summer—freshly cut grass, the lingering sweetness of honeysuckle climbing the trellis, and the faint, smoky remnants of the firewood stacked near the house.

You leaned against Hotch’s chest, his arms loosely draped around your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns on your bare legs. The warmth of him seeped into you. You let out a content sigh, snuggling further into his chest.

It had been six months since he left the BAU. Six months of long walks through the countryside, of mornings spent in bed with no reason to rush, of rediscovering a man who had spent years sacrificing himself for the safety of others.

At first, the transition had been difficult. Aaron had been hesitant, unsure of who he was outside of the job, as though his identity had been stitched together by the cases, the late nights, the endless chase of justice.

He had been restless, waking up at odd hours as though his body still expected the call of duty. Some nights, you had found him on the porch, staring into the darkness, lost in thought. And other's you had found him sitting in the kitchen, his phone open on either JJ or Emily's contact in his phone, debating whether he should check in and see how everything was going without him.

But in this almost sanctuary you had built together, he had begun to unravel—layer by layer, breath by breath. The sharp edges of stress had softened, the lines around his mouth no longer weighed down by exhaustion. He still carried the past with him, no doubt he'd always have it with him, but it no longer defined him.

Your legs stretched over his lap, the warmth of his hands resting against your skin. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knee, and you smiled, closing your eyes as the wind tousled your hair.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, edged with that lingering gravel that had always made your stomach flip.

You hummed in response. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You tilted your head back, meeting his eyes. The sunlight hit them just right, turning the brown into something lighter, warmer. “How much I love you.”

His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile appearing as he squeezed your thigh. “You always get sentimental when we sit out here.”

“Can you blame me?” you teased, running your fingers through the graying strands at his temple. “Look at this. It’s peaceful. I never thought we’d have something like this.”

He exhaled, long and slow. “Neither did I.”

There was something about the way he said it, the weight behind the words, that made your chest tighten. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “Are you happy, Aaron?”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze soft but intent. “More than I ever thought possible.”

You kissed his shoulder, letting the moment stretch, settling into the quiet contentment that came so easily now.

You tilted your head slightly against him, voice soft as you asked, "How's Jack?"

Aaron exhaled, a small, fond smile pulling at his lips as he continued tracing patterns against your skin. "I talked to him yesterday," he said, his voice warm with pride. "He sounds happy. Settling into college well, making friends. He even mentioned joining an intramural soccer team."

Your smile widened at that. "That’s wonderful. He always did love playing." You recalled the games Aaron had invited you to when Jack was only a young boy

Hotch nodded, the tension he once carried about Jack leaving for college no longer evident in his expression. "He said his classes are challenging but interesting. And he likes his professors."

You ran your fingers gently along his arm, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. "He’s thriving, then. Just like you wanted."

Aaron let out a quiet chuckle. "Just like we wanted. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. I think Haley would be proud."

You squeezed his hand, understanding the weight of his words. "She would be. You’ve raised a good man, Aaron."

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, silent gratitude passing between you. You let the moment settle between you, filled with warmth and love.

A rustling sound caught your attention, and when you glanced to the side, a small smile pulled at your lips. “Aaron,” you whispered, nudging him lightly. “Look.”

He followed your gaze, and there, across the wooden railing of the porch, a handful of ladybugs had gathered, their tiny, spotted bodies crawling along the grain of the wood. One took flight, landing on your outstretched hand.

Hotch chuckled. “Looks like you’re a favorite today.”

You watched the little insect as it wandered across your palm. “You know, my grandmother used to say ladybugs were good luck.”

“Did she?” He tilted his head, watching as another landed near his wrist. “Mmhm.” You met his eyes, a teasing glint in yours. “I think it’s a sign.” He arched a brow. “Of what?”

“That this—” you gestured around you, at the house, the land, the life you had built together— “was always meant to be.”

His expression softened. He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers. “I don’t need a sign to know that.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant chirping of birds, the whisper of leaves rustling in the breeze, and the steady rise and fall of Aaron’s breath. He had a way of making the world feel smaller, simpler—of making you feel like the only thing that mattered.

“Jack texted earlier by the way,” he murmured after a moment, remembering something he had forgotten to tell you when you asked about him. “Said he wants to come up next weekend.”

Your heart warmed at the mention of a visit. “That sounds perfect. Maybe we can take him fishing.”

Hotch’s lips quirked. “You still think you can out-fish me?”

You grinned. “Oh, I don’t think—I know.”

He chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. “We’ll see about that.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you leaned back against him, letting the moment settle deep into your bones.

The world felt softer here, free of the chaos and darkness that had once consumed so much of your lives.

[mossterunderthebed]

LOLOLOLOLOLOL

OH MY GOSH GOYUU TIME

(bc my secret superpower is that i can in fact make anything goyuu hohoho)

WHO IS IT?? WHOS THE IDIOT THAT TRIED TO POISON GOJO AND GOT YUUJI INSTEAD??? *GAAAASPS* NAOYA ITS NAOYA

HES A MYSOGINISTIC LIL BIRCHNUGGET WITH A SUPERIORITY/INFERIORITY COMPLEX

BUT ACTUALLY I JUST WANT HIM TO HAVE HAD HIS BALLS CUT OFF IN SERVICE TO THE EMPEROR (and the emperor is GOJO)

(Hes SO bitter abt it) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

WHERES THAT ONE QUOTE THE 'THEYLL BUURY U THREE FEET DEEP BC UVE ONLY EVER BEEN HALF A MAN' ONE I SAW IT ONCE WHERE IS ITTTTTT

OUOUOUUUUUUUUGH EGG IM GETTING IDEAS ABOUT THE EMPOROR/JESTER AUUUUUUUUUUUU AGAIN

SOMEBODY GIVE ME A SOUNDING BOARD I NEED TO BASH MY FACE AGAINST THIS UNTIL I BLEED SOMETHING ONTO A PAGE

plot bunny number 109283679381

*passes out before managing to get off the stage*

please excuse i am moderately to severely insane today we dont need to talk abt it

what if naoya wasnt always a eunich he was forced to become one as punishment and to learn humility after inciting rebellion among his clan

and gojo knew the thing that would KILL him without granting him the mercy of death and dealing with the political backlash from the Zen'in

so he grants him the HONOUR of being one of the closest and most trusted attendants to the crown FORK FORK FORK IM FREAKING GENIUS and makes him a eunuch

OUGHHHH

and THEN naoya plots revenge quieter and smarter this time bc his entire mentality has collapsed and hes not really as stable as he once was (which like. he wasnt in the first place) and so then YUUJI comes along and earns the emperor's favour (LOTS of favour) and decides to USE HIM and gojos fondness for him to get to gojo

and tries to poison gojo with some sweets or smthg and gojo ends up feeding them to yuuji first as a treat and then yuujis smile slowly fades and he looked horrified and scared and knocks the box away and tries to say 'gojo-sama theyre pois-' and then he falls

and gojo roars for medics and has to cradle yuujis body as he shakes and heaves and sweats and gojos terrified and furious in front of his WHOLE court and has naoya put in chains and nearly kills him but decides to let yuuji decide when he wakes up HE WILL WAKE UP and then stays by yuuji the whole time hes unconcious

and then when yuuji is finally confirmed to be okay he lets him choose what to do with naoya and yuuji doesnt want to hurt him at first but he thinks of how naoya tried to hurt gojo used HIM to hurt gojo and hes so furious and gramps didnt raise a fool he might not be well-versed in politics but hes not a true idiot either he just sells it for the bit (its literally his job bro fork off) and he knows a message has to be sent and he knows this CANT happen again (truthfully he knows it WILL and THATS why he needs to do this)

and so he asks to be naoyas executioner himself

bc this is HIS decision and burden and he needs to remember it; that this is gojos court and it doesnt love him no matter how Yuuji DOES- oh. he does. he loves gojo. oh no. oh no no no he CANT that the EMPEROR he CANT be in love with the EMPEROR oh gosh he IS isnt he hes SO in love with the emperor

but who wouldnt?? gojo-sama's so sweet and funny and protective and gentle and he cares so much about his people and he can be scary as all get-out but yuujis never once felt afraid with him

and he feeds yuuji sweets from his own hand and lets yuuji sit on his lap and smiles when he fumbles and laughs at his jokes even though yuuji KNOWS hes not really that funny

and he gave yuuji a chance and got him OUT from under the laugh-master's thumb (idk what jester training looks like but yuuji did not have fun there in this au) and because of him he got to meet nobara and megumi and so many people who CARE and nanami and shoko are so loyal to him and theyre GOOD yuuji knows people like hes never known anything else and he might not be the sharpest but his gut is never wrong and gojo makes him light as air and makes his stomach bubble like champagne but most of all

he makes yuuji feel SAFE and yuuji loves loves loves to make him happy and wants to spend his whole life dedicating himself to that endeavor.

and he worries what if he does something stupid what if he lets someone know what if he gets SENT AWAY?? so he draws back and gojos so confused and devestated and thinks maybe yuuji doesnt want to stay anymore after being poisoned and it breaks his heart but he does maybe the most selfless thing hes ever done and teel yuuji that if yuuji wants he'll arrange for him to go wherever he likes and he wont make him stay

and yuuji is horrified and devestated and just shouts 'please dont send me away' and he apologieses and says he wont let anyone else know he loves gojo he wont act out or up or above his station he'll behave and stay within his lines he promises only please please please dont send him away he doesnt want to go away from gojo-sama PLEASE-

and gojos just standing there like hes been whalloped over the head and then seconds tick by and hes like. wait. u love me?

and the blood drains from yuujis face but he nods and gojo looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky and yuuji just says this one small miserable 'im sorry'

and gojo realizes hes upset and he goes nonono i love you too i love you yuuji dont you know i LOVE you and scoops him up into his arms and spins him around and around and kisses him all over his face and yuujis like 'u love me' and gojo just nods vigorously

and yuuji hold onto him so so tight. and gojo takes him to his rooms and holds him right back and promises he wont let anyone hurt yuuji again and theyll never be separated and he'll never send yuuji away and yuuji sobs because finally FINALLY for the first time since his gramps dies he has a home again and its here, with gojo.

OUGH!

and then Happy Ending Things YAY!!!!

fucking stop using eunuch it's not a joke word it a fucking slur you disgusting troglodyte

you gotta let go of the past. im not letting you back into my court. you tried to poison me and you ended up killing my favorite fool. im not giving you your balls back either.

[grunklebongrip]

Every time someone uwu-ifies Fiddleford, I find a new way for him to cheat on his wife

[tbaluver]

Caught You Staring ꩜ .ᐟ - The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader requested: by anonnie ☕︎ summary: you get distracted from how handsome your boyfriend looks genre: fluff fluff + silly a/n: hihi lovelies ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this was requested a while back and i finally finished this ! i hope you enjoy reading (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ and thank you for beta reading this @ilovemitsuya MWAH (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

you both were at the cafe, grabbing a quick bite while trying to finish the last Wanderer report before you both head back to the building. but honestly, how could you focus on paperwork when he was sitting across from you like that?

his light brown hair looked so soft, you wanted to run your finger through them. and his lips? they were slightly pursed, like he was in deep thought and they would always be so soft whenever you pressed your lips on them. they were just naturally perfect.

and those eyes. his blue eyes. they were like the ocean and every time he blinked, his long lashes fluttered so slowly and softly. you swore you could feel your heart skip a beat every time you were around him, it was ridiculous. but when are you ever normal about your man?

it didn’t take long for him to catch you staring but you were too busy admiring him to notice that those same beautiful blue ocean eyes were staring right back at you. for a good couple of minutes, you both stared at each other until it finally clicked.

your cheeks flushed as you blinked rapidly as if you were trying to reboot your brain. you stammered out an apology as you avoided his gaze, “sorry. i..i-”

“i win,” he says softly.

you blinked, confused. “..what?”

“staring contest,” he explains innocently, “i guess it’s unfair you had a head start so..let’s have a new round.”

Zayne:

most of the time, you two just did your own thing as you two spent time together. he’d occupy himself with a book or flip through patient reports, preparing for his next operation that would be in a couple of days. you did your own tasks but you couldn’t focus on anything he looked like that.

you looked up from whatever you were doing, only to get completely distracted by the way his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, perfectly perched. the way he would occasionally adjust them with those long, slender fingers of his was somehow mesmerizing. you definitely weren’t staring but your eyes just seemed to be glued to him.

the way he was so focused on his work, so intent and serious, was just attractive. his jawline was so sharp, they could cut you and leave marks. the way his brows furrowed in concentration and you couldn’t help but admire how those soft lashes fluttered every time he blinked. and those hazel green eyes of his-

ahem

you didn’t realize it, but you had been staring for a while. so long, in fact he could feel your eyes burning through him as he did his own tasks. “i have a feeling you’re more interested in what i’m doing or perhaps do you need something?” he spoke without looking up.

your cheeks instantly flush. were you staring that long? “sorry i just got distracted..” you mumble as you scramble back to what you were originally doing.

the corners of his lips quirked, closing his book with a soft thud. “i see..” he murmured, adjusting his glasses. “then perhaps you can enlighten me on what was so distracting?”

Rafayel:

thomas had insisted that rafayel should finish his last canvas for the upcoming exhibition and naturally he would procrastinate for as long as he could but with thomas’s relentless nagging, he finally got to work. he begged- insisted that you stay with him for inspiration and support and who were you to turn down that request?

for the past couple of hours rafayel had been silently focused on his canvas, stroking the brush across the surface. meanwhile you stayed out of his way, letting him work in peace. but well, you couldn’t help but look up every now and then. 

he looked good in his white button up shirt, casually unbuttoned to reveal the little mole on his left pec and how his sleeves rolled up just enough to give you a peek of his veins. and those nebula eyes of his were so easy to get lost into.

he seemed to notice this of course but he didn’t bother to say anything though. instead, he lets you stare as long as you want, clearly trying not to let the smirk creep up on his lips. but as minutes passed he couldn’t resist anymore. “if you’re gonna stare cutie, take a picture.”

you blinked rapidly, snapping out of his trance as you scrambled back to what you were doing. your cheeks heated up as you quickly stammered out a quick apology. “sorry i was just..i just wanted to see what you painted so far..”  you knew you were lying and he knew too.

raf, clearly enjoying this, taps the brush innocently against his chin. “yeah? don’t liars get set on fire or something? should i light you on fire or..” he teases, giving you a playful grin.

you rolled your eyes, playfully huffing before walking around him, stepping closer to the canvas. “wait no-!” the teasing tone gone immediately as his hands flail to cover the canvas away from you. but it was already too late, your eyes landing on the canvas to find it..exactly as the same as before. no progress.

“raf..” you said flatly. “were you not painting at all?”

he gave an exaggerated hmph, crossing his arms as he turned away. “i can’t focus when you’re staring at me like i’m some kind of bait!”

Sylus:

you two sat beside each other in comfortable silence. he was cleaning one of his vintage guns while you were pretending to focus on your own task. it wasn’t easy when he was sitting right there, your gaze wandering over to him.

there was no denying your lover was handsome. his gaze was often found intimidating but not to you. his crimson were practically hypnotic to you, like you could lose yourself in them forever and still feel safe. you let your eyes trace his features, his soft hair, nearly swept back and how his lips curve, making it impossible not to imagine how they’d feel against yours right now.

before you knew it, you were completely lost in thought about him, your thoughts melting away as you admired every detail about him. you probably should have been more discreet about it when his voice broke through your daydream.

“if you’re that curious about what i’m doing, feel free to ask. i’m not the one to keep secrets from you.”

you blinked, snapping out of your trance to find him glancing at you with a raised brow. your cheeks flushed once you realize you’d been caught.

“i- um,” you stammered, fidgeting in your seat as you pretended to busy yourself back into what you were doing to avoid the embarrassment.

he chuckles as he watches you. “cat got your tongue?” he teases, closing the gun’s case with a soft click. “there. now i’m all yours sweetie.”

Caleb:

you two were sitting beside each other, working through training reports like old times. but this time it was different, maybe for you. this time you worked on training reports as an official couple. every time you tried to focus, your attention kept wandering back to him.

his dark brown hair looked so soft, you had to resist the urge to reach out and run your fingers through them. his hand rests thoughtfully on his chin and you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers skillfully flip his pen between them.

then there were his lips. a little curved and how much you love how that curve would widen into a full bright smile whenever he was around you. and his eyes, always full with so much longing for you as much as you did for him. you couldn’t help. you continued to stare at him, lost in the moment until his voice broke through your daydreams, pulling you back into reality.

“are you trying to telepathically tell me you need something pipsqueak?” he teases, his lips curling into a smile as he ruffles your hair gently. he rests his chin back on his hand, the way he looks at you was making your heart flutter all over again.

your face flushed. “i-um,” you stammered, shaking your head as you quickly averted your gaze, trying to focus back on the training report in front of you.

“you know,” his hand slides the report away from you. “if you’re tired, you can always lean on me. or maybe we can just take a break? how about that?” you glance back at him, the words getting caught in your throat as he smiles warmly at you, making the entire world pause just for a moment.

[nogurlstoy]

I don't mean to be mean but how was he ever going to find love in letting one girl freeze to death and slashing another girl in the back when she was vulnerable?

I get that he should have never been abused and hurt by his own family, but I don't blame anyone who hates Hans still because he almost killed the only royal family members Arendelle had left. I will accept the possibility that he was hoping to be a family with Anna and Elsa at first, but all that came crashing down when Hans betrayed them both.

Sure they would understand him a little better, but a sad, tragic backstory is not going to make the girls forget that they almost lost their lives to that man. And I don't think it would make them bad people to still despise him still, because he most definitely hurt Anna. She trusted him and he broke it when they could've really been a family together.

What we have *actually* learned from the Hans segments of A Frozen Heart

Because I saw one post that was very biased against him, and rather inaccurate

Hans considers the family castle a prison, and his father the jailer

He’s afraid to go to his own mother’s birthday celebration for five minutes, because even a short amount of time with his entire family always ends in disaster, and stands outside the door for twenty minutes preparing himself

The only people in his family who care about him are his mother and his brother Lars

He’s always daydreaming about what it would be like to be an only child, and those daydreams always involve his father loving him, and telling him that he’ll be a wonderful king, and that he’s proud of him

His brothers throw things at him when he daydreams. At least once, they threw glass

He’s learned that fighting back is useless, and just mumbles quiet apologies and “I’m fine”s when he’s bullied. His father yells at him for it

He basically self-harms, or at least as close as you can get to it in a children’s book, because, and I quote, he “[found] the pain oddly pleasant. Physical pain he could handle.”

He goes down to the docks for peace and quiet whenever he’s upset

He considers himself worthless and less than a spare - a throwaway

He tries to make jokes about how low he is in the royal line and laugh it off, but there’s always a hint of sadness in his voice that only Lars notices

He tells Lars, and I quote: “You know Father isn’t planning on marrying me off. I am just waiting for the moment he orders me to take a vow of silence and join the Brotherhood of the Isles, where I will live the rest of my days in the same silence I have lived them here.”

Keep in mind that he’s seventeen.

When he learns that the king and queen of Arendelle passed away, all he thinks about is that it’s a tragedy for the people of Arendelle, and nothing more. It’s Lars who brings up the possibility of marrying Elsa

Even then, he’s not like “bwahaha I’m going to take over the kingdom!” All he thinks is: “What do I have to lose? If I don’t try, I’ll be stuck here, anyway. At least this way, I might have a chance to change my path.” (Again, exact quote from the book)

He’s literally a depressed seventeen-year-old who wants to escape an abusive household

And people are claiming that it makes him a douche

Yes, he’s awful in the movie, but this book gives zero reasons to hate him any more than you already do

[bopero]

loose lips & victories

there is an unnamed & blossoming urge you bring out of hamzah. (SMUT MDNI!)

Dating Hamzah has consisted of nothing but sweet dreams and candy roads. He brings you whatever you may ask for, whatever you desire. His adamant need to fulfill all of your wishes is adorable, proving his loyalty to you time and time again in his own subtle ways. He’s attuned to your thoughts. Scarily so. You don’t know if he’s good at being in relationships, or just reading you.

Superficially, he’s doing anything he can to be a good boyfriend. And he is a good boyfriend.

There’s just a small part of himself he hides. You know from the lingering stares that burn through your nerves and the touches that are ingrained into your skin. The grooves of his fingers reveal something that his mouth can never really articulate.

The house is loud and brimming with people. Martin had invited the two of you over for a ‘small’ get-together, but you fear losing Hamzah in the crowd as he pulls you through towards a lesser crowded space. You’re grateful for his touch, as small as it is, because it lessens the nerves just enough to where you won’t lose your mind. He seems to do that a lot for you.

When you reach the kitchen, Hamzah’s face is pinched in a familiar way. It tells you all you need to know without words: he’s ready to leave. He nods towards the door, signaling to you instead of trying to speak over the barrage of noise. Before either of you can step towards the door, although, a hand on your shoulder stops you. You assume it’s someone you know who’d have the audacity to touch you, but as you turn your smile drops.

Some man you’d never seen before stands there with a goofy smile that only annoys you. Something about him screams cocky and arrogant.

“Yo, where you off to, mama?” He sips from the plastic cup in his hand, drunk off his ass and you have to shake your head in disbelief.

Hamzah’s hand tightens around yours, “Uh…leaving. With my boyfriend.”

The man only laughs, spilling some of his drink as he bumps into whoever’s around him, “Yooo, my bad man, I didn’t even realize she was taken, for real.”

Hamzah’s very obviously (to you, at least) reaching his tipping point, his eyebrows furrowing deeper with every moment that passes with this man standing in front of him, “It’s…chill.”

He tries to let it go peacefully, once again leading you towards the exit. This time, he makes sure to wrap an arm around your shoulders. He tells himself it’s to keep you safe, but really it’s to ward off any other potential drunken ‘suitors.’

The man doesn’t seem to take the obvious hint when you both turn your backs, “Yo, but why don’t you let her stay a whi-“

“We’re leaving. Bye.”

Hamzah’s voice is clipped, and with his shouting over the music the man seems to understand-through his drunken state of mind-that maybe he shouldn’t flirt with people who have boyfriends. Mandy seems too busy handling Martin across the room, so you wave to her as you leave.

Hamzah groans when you arrive outside, finally able to breathe and let his arms stretch, “You…okay?”

This is the first time he’s ever shown any sort of possessiveness over you. The strange concoction of feelings flowing inside you is new, but you don’t fear it. You lean into the high that Hamzah gives you.

“‘M okay. I’m sure he’ll be embarrassed in the morning.”

Something is bothering him. He scoffs as he walks down the steps. His feet move quickly and with fervor as he shoves his hands in his pockets, “Yeah, he should be. Fuckin’ weirdo.”

His breath puffs out into the cold night air. The venom in his words sends some kind of adrenaline through you, “Are you okay?”

“Pfft, I’m fine. I’m perfect. Love it when sleezeballs flirt with my girlfriend in front of me.”

“Hamzah.”

You stop as you both reach the sidewalk beside his parked car. He turns to you, “I’m not mad at you, sorry. ‘S not your fault at all. Just-don’t like to see that. Sorry.”

“You’re jealous.”

He scratches the back of his neck embarrassedly, “What? Noooo, I just care about women a lot. ‘M a feminist.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ok, yes, I’m jealous.”

You step towards him. He stands frozen. You think in fear, but really he’s only trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to pull you in and kiss you all over. Do more than kiss you. Claim you.

He’s kind of afraid to admit those urges.

You pull him in by the collar of his jacket, forcing his nervous eyes to look at you, “You know I’m yours, right? Like, you asked me out and everything?”

He rolls his eyes, his tongue poking his cheek as the annoyance from before seeps through, “I know that. That douchebag didn’t.”

A thrill runs through your body. Seeing his jaw clenched, his balled up fists, and his sweet demeanor replaced by something completely opposite causes a chain reaction inside of you.

You grab the courage inside of you before it can leave and you mumble out, “Maybe you should make it so that he knows…”

He stares dumbfounded, “What? You want me to fight him? ‘Cause girl, I will.”

He looks back at your confused, frustrated face. It takes him a moment to really understand what you mean. For all he brags about knowing and understanding you, he’s slow on the uptake.

“Oh.”

Hamzah doesn’t know what to do. Before he can gather any sort of courage, you kiss him. It’s the kind of kiss that makes him float on cloud 9, and he’s not really sure where he is in time and space. He just knows your lips are on his and that’s all his mind can focus on. His hands find their way to your hips, hesitant on their way down but firm in their grip. He lets out a whine when your hands pull him downwards towards you and you laugh into the kiss.

You separate to catch your breath, Hamzah’s lips chasing yours, “Do you get what I mean now?”

He’s breathless and his red cheeks are only made worse with the cold, “Yeah, I think so.”

“We should go to your car.”

“Yeah.”

“In the backseat.”

Hamzah rushes to rip open his door handle, and he sheepishly laughs at the look you give him. You climb in quickly, because truthfully, you’re just as eager as he is. As soon as he climbs in and shuts the door, you maneuver your way between his legs. It’s hard to so in the small space of the car, but the tent that seems to grow in his pants is all you’re focused on.

He stops you as your hands reach to unbuckle his belt, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “W-wait, you’re sure, right? Just- don’t do this cause you feel like you gotta.”

You rub circles onto one of the hands on your face, “Hamzah, I’ve been wanting to suck your dick since the first day we met.”

“Oh.”

When you make that clear, Hamzah lets you shimmy him out of his jeans. You palm him through his boxers, watching as he wriggles and tries to be patient for you. He clearly struggles as the whines build in his throat and his hands itch to touch you, feel you.

He leans back when you finally touch him unclothed for the first time, grabbing the headpiece of the seat as he tries to bring his mind back to Earth for you. Your hands seem to know just how to touch him to get him crumbling, tracing the most sensitive parts of him that leave him breathless and shaking.

“F-fuck…jus’-just don’t stop, please.”

You’ve barely begun and he’s broken to his bare core: begging and pleading for you. He shakes in your hands, sweating heavily. When you take him in your mouth, his entire body jolts and his mouth lets out the prettiest sounds. He’s putty in your hands.

Your tongue runs over him, hand taking the rest of his length so no part of his is neglected. You have to hold his hips still as he moans aloud, letting nonsense praises spill while he loses control.

“Baby, baby… I ca-you gotta slow down, ‘m gonna-“

Whatever restraint he seems to hold finally snaps as he grabs your hair and stops you in your tracks, “I’m sorry-fuck-I jus’ can’t stop,”

He sounds so apologetic, teary, and pathetic as he fucks your mouth. With every harsh thrust he gives, the more he breaks. You’re sure whoever’s passing by right now can hear him moaning at the top of his lungs. But neither of you seem to care.

You gag on him as he hits the back of your throat, and that only seems to bring him closer to the edge, “So good to me, fuck, can’t believe you’re mine,” you moan at his words, the vibration of your hums sending a shiver throughout his entire body, “Yeah? You’re mine, huh? Gotta let everybody know.”

Your watery eyes meet his, and that seems to light something in him. The little spark of a flame that’s been building up at the bottom of his spine is suddenly bursting as he pulls your head until your nose touches his pelvis.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry…!”

His high-pitched moans betray his words, hips twitching with every drop of his come that pours into your mouth. You take it all greedily and hungrily, watching the way his pretty face contorts when he’s in the throes of pleasure.

Hamzah seems to become self aware all at once, post-nut clarity hitting him as he lets go of your head quickly and spouts apologies just as fast. You don’t let him wallow in embarrassment for too long, reaching up to press a light kiss to his animated lips.

“Don’t be sorry.”

He smiles shyly, “Ok.”

[inseobts]

Heyo, I hope you’re well and keeping nice and warm? I was wondering if you’d ever consider a continuation to Undercover Lovers, maybe with putting Hiyori in between? All good if you don’t think of continuing the story, take good care!! ❤️

Undercover Lovers Part 2

zoro x reader

while waiting for luffy and the others to return from whole cake island, you and the rest of the crew are forced to go undercover in wano, where your and zoro's cover as a loving couple quickly gets complicated.

PART 1

a/n: thank you cutie, hope you like it (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡

words count: 1.2k

tags: wci and wano spoilers, fake dating, romance, soft zoro

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The streets of Wano are quieter at night, but the tension in the air never fades. You and Zoro maintain your cover, still pretending to be a loving couple, but something has shifted again since the arrival of Kozuki Hiyori.

She had appeared unexpectedly, her presence like a gentle breeze, graceful, elegant, and far too comfortable in Zoro’s personal space. At first, you brushed it off, knowing that she had her reasons for staying close to him. But as the days passed, irritation settled in your chest like an immovable weight.

After escaping Orochi’s men, you, Zoro, Hiyori, and Toko take shelter in an old, hidden house in the Ringo region. The place is small but safe, with only a single futon, a few worn-out blankets, and enough food to last for a few days. You expected this to be just another part of the mission, but soon, it starts feeling like something else entirely.

Like you don’t belong.

Hiyori insists on tending to Zoro’s wounds, her delicate hands carefully wrapping bandages around his torso. You sit in the corner of the room, arms crossed, watching in silence. Toko giggles as she plays nearby, occasionally running up to Zoro and poking his arm, completely at ease.

“You should be more careful, Zoro-san,” Hiyori murmurs, her voice soft “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

Zoro huffs “I’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch.”

You clench your jaw. A scratch? He was bleeding all over the place earlier, and now he’s letting Hiyori fuss over him like a doting wife? You should be the one doing that, you’re supposed to be his partner in this mission, not her. And after what happened with that Miyamoto man you really started feeling you and Zoro could be closer.

Hiyori dabs a cloth against Zoro’s chest, far too gentle for your liking. You shift uncomfortably, biting back the urge to yank the bandages from her hands and do it yourself.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Toko’s voice snaps you from your thoughts.

You force a smile “Yeah, just tired.”

Hiyori glances at you but says nothing. Instead, she returns to Zoro, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues tending to him. The sight makes your stomach twist.

Over the next few days, things only get worse. The house is small, which means you’re constantly near Zoro, Hiyori, and Toko. And with each passing moment, you feel more like an outsider.

Zoro and Toko have a strange yet adorable bond. She clings to him, calling him “Zorojuro” and making silly faces until he chuckles, something he rarely does. Then there’s Hiyori, who always sits gracefully beside him, laughing at his blunt words, tending to his wounds, and cooking meals as if this is their normal life.

It’s like you’ve walked into someone else’s home.

One evening, after dinner, Toko jumps onto Zoro’s back, giggling “Zorojuro! Carry me like a samurai!”

Zoro grunts but obliges, lifting her effortlessly. She throws her arms out, pretending to fly, while Hiyori watches with a soft, affectionate expression.

“You’re quite good with children, Zoro-san,” she comments “I think you’d make a wonderful father.”

You freeze. The image before you is too much... Zoro carrying Toko like a father playing with his child, Hiyori watching like a proud mother. And then there’s you, sitting in the corner like some outsider who stumbled into their perfect little family.

Zoro scoffs at Hiyori’s words “Not happening.”

Hiyori only smiles knowingly “You never know.”

Something in you snaps. You abruptly stand up, your chair scraping against the wooden floor “I’m going for some air.”

Zoro’s gaze flickers toward you, but he doesn’t stop you. Hiyori, on the other hand, tilts her head curiously “Be careful, Y/N.”

You step outside, taking a deep breath. The cold Wano air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the sting in your chest. Why does this bother me so much?

You lean against the wall, closing your eyes. You’ve faced enemies, fought battles, and endured grueling missions. But somehow, watching Zoro with Hiyori and Toko feels like the hardest challenge yet.

Because for the first time, you’re not fighting an enemy.

You’re fighting the sinking feeling that maybe… you’re not needed here at all.

That night, when you finally return inside, Zoro is awake, sharpening his swords by the dim candlelight. Hiyori and Toko are already asleep, curled up comfortably in the futon. You hesitate in the doorway, watching the flickering light dance across Zoro’s face.

He doesn’t look up, but he speaks “You’ve been acting weird.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe “Weird how?”

Zoro sets his whetstone down and finally meets your gaze “You keep running off. Snapping at little things. Something bothering you?”

You scoff, shaking your head “Nothing. Just tired.”

His eyes narrow slightly “Bullshit.”

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples “What do you want me to say, Zoro? That I feel like I don’t belong here? That I feel like I’m watching some perfect little family while I’m just… there?”

Zoro blinks, clearly caught off guard. He sets his sword aside, his gaze unreadable “You think that?”

You gesture toward the sleeping figures “Look at them. Look at you. It’s like you fit into this life so easily. And me? I’m just—”

“An idiot” Zoro interrupts.

You glare at him “Excuse me?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair “You really think I see it that way? Hiyori and Toko are just people I helped. That’s it. And yeah, they’re nice, but they’re not—” He pauses, exhaling heavily “They’re not you.”

Your breath catches “What?”

Zoro leans forward slightly, his voice quieter now “I’m not doing this mission with them. I’m doing it with you.”

His words send a warmth through your chest, but before you can process it, Zoro steps closer, his gaze locked onto yours. The air between you grows thick, and then without another word he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is firm, reassuring, yet impossibly gentle. His hands find your waist, grounding you as your heart pounds against your ribs. You melt into him, gripping his yukata as if he’s the only thing keeping you steady.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours “That clear enough for you?” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You blink up at him, breathless “Yeah… pretty clear.”

“Go to sleep,” he mutters, picking up his sword again “Stop overthinking.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod. As you lay down, the warmth in your chest lingers, pushing away the doubts. Maybe you weren’t just an outsider after all.

Maybe you actually had a place here, with him.

The next morning, the atmosphere is tense, but different. You’re still processing Zoro’s words when Hiyori approaches him with a bright smile “Zoro-san, would you like me to prepare your meal first?”

Before you can react, Zoro casually drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer “Nah. Y/N always eats with me first.”

Hiyori blinks in surprise, her eyes flicking between the two of you “Oh… I see.”

Toko giggles “Y/N and Zorojuro are togeeeeether!”

You feel your face heat up, but Zoro doesn’t let go. Instead, he smirks slightly, squeezing your shoulder just enough to make you relax “Yeah”

Hiyori simply smiles, nodding.

You glance up at Zoro, your heart hammering. He looks down at you with an easy smirk, his fingers gently tracing your back in an absentminded yet possessive gesture. And for the first time in days, you don’t feel like an outsider.

You feel like you belong.

With him.

[tea-writes19]

besties | p.p.

pairing: peter parker x f!stark!reader

summary: your friendship with your dad’s intern turns into something more

warnings: friends to lovers, swearing, these bitches being oblivious, comedy, dad tony, mentions of past affairs, suggestive content, fluff galore, slow burn, underage drinking

a/n: i’m not usually a peter girlie as i love him and mj together but i wanted to write some fluff so here we are. also i’m laughing at petey’s intials. set post endgame but tony lives and steve doesn’t go back in time. nat’s still dead tho :(

liked by peterparker, nedleeds, tonystark, and others

yourusername: your fave upstate & queens duo

tagged: @/peterparker

view comments below

user1: MY FAVES

user2: imagine being friends w/ the y/n stark😩

user3: THIS

nedleeds: can’t believe y’all got food without me…

peterparker: sorry!

yourusername: no we’re not

peterparker: never getting in a car with you driving AGAIN

yourusername: IT WAS ONE CURB

user4: like father like daughter😭

user5: omg😂

tonystark: how many people from queens do you even know?

yourusername: that doesn’t matter

peterparker: they hate when we serve orphan & nepo baby

yourusername: 🗣️🗣️

user6: not the dead parents—

user7: i bet peter is the funniest person alive😭

user8: bro’s got trauma for days😭😭

pepperpotts: so this is why it took you two 6 hours to get the olive oil i asked for…

yourusername: should’ve sent happy🤷🏻‍♀️

jamesrhodes: you act like y/n doesn’t have tony’s horrible time management skills

pepperpotts: and peter?

jamesrhodes: spends too much time with tony and y/n

user9: god i want to live in nyc so bad

user10: pov: you saw y/n stark hit a curb today

liked by nedleeds, yourusername, mjjones, and others

peterparker: lab days🛠️🥽

tagged: @/tonystark

view comments below

yourusername: YOU GOT FIVE GUYS WITHOUT ME?!??

peterparker: BLAME YOUR DAD!! IT WAS HIS IDEA

tonystark: that was supposed to stay between us kid😑

user11: is that a new iron man model i see👀

peterparker: nope, just fixing rhodey’s suit :)

yourusername: surprised uncle rhodes is letting you touch that old thing

jamesrhodes: HEY! the war machine suit works fine just the way it is

yourusername: clearly not if it had to be fixed…

user11: oh god what have i started🫣

user12: five guys👨‍🍳🤌

user13: looks so fun!

nedleeds: man you HAVE got to convince mr. stark to let me come with someday

tonystark: not happening hacker

nedleeds: 😔

mjjones: THIS was more important than acdec?

peterparker: YOU DON’T JUST SAY NO TO TONY STARK MJ!!!!

yourusername: i do all the time🤨

user14: 😭😭

user15: love how peter is just friends with all the starks

user16: i’m pretty sure he’s tony’s personal intern

user17: ^^^

user18: oh my god i thought he was another bastard from tony’s playboy days😭

user19: lmao nooooo

user20: tbf i forget y/n isn’t pepper’s kid sometimes soooo….

liked by nedleeds, mjjones, peterparker, and others

yourusername: a happy meal is the only true serotonin one needs in life

tagged: @/peterparker @/nedleeds

view comments below

tonystark: what am i? chopped liver?

yourusername: yes

tonystark: ouch

user21: imagine calling tony stark chopped liver😭

nedleeds: i’m pretty sure we broke the airplane wheel

yourusername: shhhh…don’t let ronald hear you

peterparker: thanks for the nightmare fuel tn

yourusername: anytime🫡

user22: happy meals >>>

user23: mcds cokes >>>

yourusername: ronald mcdonald🥵

user24: one of these is not like the others…

user25: LMAO NOT RONALD MCDONALD😭😭

peterparker: i’m just glad we took the subway this time

yourusername: WOW

yourusername: AND TO THINK WE WERE BFFS

peterparker: I’M SORRY I DON’T WANT TO DIE YOUNG

tonystark: that is the most bullshit response i’ve ever heard from you

user26: this comment section is so unhinged😭😭

user27: lol what’d you expect??? it’s the starks

tonystark: morgan would like a happy meal

yourusername: we all know that’s just the excuse for you to get one too but that’s ok

liked by tonystark, yourusername, steverogers, and others

pepperpotts: cozy day with the family🤍

tagged: @/tonystark @/yourusername

view comments below

user28: you guys are so cute!

yourusername: i would like everyone to know that dad pushed me into the pond after that pic was taken

user29: omg noooo😭😭

peterparker: did you save your drink at least?

yourusername: obviously…i’m not a monster pete

user30: i’m crying at the thought of tony stark pushing his daughter into a pond😭😭

user31: ^^^

tonystark: this is defamation

steverogers: glad to see you guys doing well pep!

pepperpotts: you should come over for dinner sometime soon!!

tonystark: please leave the 2 assholes that follow you around at home thanks

pepperpotts: TONY

yourusername: bring them for the bit

samwilson: i’m going to get morgan the loudest fucking toy for christmas now

user32: this thread is a mess😭😭

user33: it’s so weird to see y/n without peter lol

user34: lol frfr

user35: i’m kinda starting to ship them ngl

user36: omg yes!!

user37: you guys can never let a boy and girl just be friends😒

tonystark: my arms are so tired from pushing morgan in that swing all day

yourusername: sounds like a skill issue

peterparker: ^^^

tonystark: i’d like to see you two single-handedly save new york from an impending nuke

user38: 😭😭😭

jamesrhodes: looks like a perfect day for the stanks!

tonystark: you’re never letting that go are you

jamesrhodes: nope!

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: when the trip makes it out of the family group chat >>>]

story replies

peterparker: can’t wait!!!

yourusername: i am so beating you to the best room

user39: i just know the pics are abt to be fire🔥🔥

user40: where are you going?

mjjones: i’m expecting a real life nemo

yourusername: 🫡🫡

liked by peterparker, pepperpotts, mjjones, and others

yourusername: us virgin islands? this american def ain’t a virg—

tagged: @/peterparker @/tonystark @/pepperpotts

view comments below

user41: HELLO?!?

user42: GIRL WHAT!?

peterparker: ain’t nothin’ virgin abt this isla—

yourusername: 🏝️= 👉👌

user43: WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!

user44: YOUR PARENTS FOLLOW YOU Y/N

mjjones: the island after y’all left: 🤰

yourusername: MJ I’M SCREAMING😭😭

nedleeds: so was the isla—i’m gonna stop

user45: 😭😭

tonystark: sometimes i think i asexually reproduced you like a plant

yourusername: surprised you didn’t clone yourself in a lab or smth

jamesrhodes: don’t give him ideas

user46: i’m freaking out over the caption

user47: no fr…

user48: AND PETER’S COMMENT

user49: 🎶i think they did it but i just can’t prove it🎶

steverogers: there’s definitely an innuendo in here somewhere but i’m just going to pretend i’m blind and go

yourusername: good choice

user50: CAPTAIN AMERICA SIR—

user51: mom come pick me up i’m scared

liked by yourusername, nedleeds, tonystark, and others

peterparker: i have sand in my ass

tagged: @/yourusername @/tonystark @/pepperpotts

view comments below

user52: love how peter was invited on the family vacation

user53: he really is just part of the fam

user54: so convinced he and y/n are dating

user55: god i hope so

nedleeds: simp

peterparker: damn right - y/n

user56: not y/n stealing peter’s phone to comment this

user57: simp you say👀

yourusername: damn who that hottie in slide 2?

peterparker: you boo😘 - y/n

yourusername: aww thanks boo🥰

user58: 😭😭

steverogers: and that’s enough instagram for me tonight

tonystark: i still don’t know what y’all were looking at

yourusername: your ego obviously🙄

user59: oh to go on a hike with tony stark

user60: oh to be dating y/n stark

user61: they never said they’re dating…

user62: shhh let us be delusional🤫

liked by pepperpotts, jamesrhodes, yourusername, and others

tonystark: the difference between morgan and y/n on vacation…

tagged: @/pepperpotts @/yourusername

view comments below

user63: omg😭😭

user64: y/n is such a mood

peterparker: morgan is a menace at go karts

yourusername: she plays too much mario kart fr

jamesrhodes: when one gets pepper’s genes and the other yours…

yourusername: i can’t believe you’ve done this

tonystark: oh but tis has

user65: i wanna say i’m morgan but in reality i’m y/n

user66: thisssss

user67: same😭

pepperpotts: to be fair y/n was hungover in the second pic…

yourusername: the porcelain gods did not grant mercy on me😔

liked by tonystark, peterparker, steverogers, and others

pepperpotts: great vacation with even greater company💕💕

tagged: @/tonystark @/yourusername @/peterparker

view comments below

peterparker: thank you for the invitation mrs. potts

user68: stop he’s too cute

user69: peter you’re adorable

user70: what a wonderful time to spend with family!

tonystark: i love you mrs. potts

pepperpotts: i love you mr. stark

yourusername: 😖🤮

jamesrhodes: glad to see tony still somehow manages to end up in the er on every trip

tonystark: i have a world record to hold up😤

user71: lmao😭

yourusername: i’m still full from that feast

peterparker: none of my pants fit after that salmon😩

user72: LOVE🤍🤍

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: 🌟🌊]

story replies

peterparker: you really are the best

yourusername: you too pete💞

user73: holy shit holy shit holy—

user74: omg i’m so happy for you

steverogers: so did you two…fondue?

yourusername: OH MY GOD

liked by yourusername, mjjones, nedleeds, and others

peterparker: another post bc we leave tmrw

tagged: @/yourusername @/tonystark

view comments below

yourusername: gonna miss sneaking out…

tonystark: oh please you do that back home too

yourusername: it’s not the same🙄

nedleeds: can’t wait to see you man!!

peterparker: so ready for our mandalorian marathon!

mjjones: nerds

yourusername: ^^^

user75: lmao tony😭😭

user76: he’s keeping an eye out for selener

user75: STOP😭

tonystark: andddd you’re grounded from the lab for that pic

peterparker: awww man😔

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: when he cares abt school🤭🫠]

story replies

peterparker: you were just making fun of me for studying🤨

yourusername: semantics

user77: automatically makes a guy hotter

yourusername: hear hear🗣️

mjjones: that better be acdec work…

liked by mjjones, peterparker, tonystark, and others

yourusername: here’s the hard launch for you bitches

tagged: @/peterparker

view comments below

user78: OMG OMG OMG—

user79: I CALLED IT

peterparker: so happy to call you mine🫶🏻

yourusername: 😘

mjjones: abt damn time…

nedleeds: ^^^

tonystark: ^^^

jamesrhodes: ^^^

pepperpotts: ^^^

steverogers: ^^^

samwilson: ^^^

happyhogan: ^^^

yourusername: damn ok then

tonystark: keep the door open

tonystark: and don’t even THINK about fonduing in my house

yourusername: PLEASE STOP

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