#i still want a chat with the creatives who made these changes

[bawbawbridgie]

the 'palace' scene

i have been WAITING to talk about this scene and it has finally come to it. this will be my last post in terms of the changes because i believe i have gone through them all (could be wrong).

instead of writing the whole scene (because that would make this post even longer), i decided to include an audio recording from the current broadway version (Joel Meyers & Erik Christopher Peterson 2024) and the original script. i recommend listening to it while reading the original script before reading the rest of this post.

alrighty, time to go into my thoughts. 

essentially, this scene has gone from a cute little moment between two besties having a lighthearted chat about their feelings for girls, to now a very intimate and quite emotionally vulnerable scene between them. 

removal of love interests: 

rose and scorpius’ dynamic is strictly friendship now with him only asking to be friends in which she still says no. that is a self explanatory change which results in no evidence of scorpius having romantic feelings for her. along with this, polly, another female love interest, is completely removed from this conversation. this takes away pretty much EVERY interaction scorpius has with a female interest in a ‘romantic’ way. 

now with albus; thank god no random mention of the older female professor ew. and no albus getting a girlfriend first. coincidently also removing all the lines referring to him having romantic feelings for female characters. without the statement of liking older women, it removes he emphasis on albus romantically having feeling for delphi in which we know was also changed in the scene with ginny and albus. 

now what does this do to the narrative and perception of these characters? when you remove the female love interests in this situation, it leaves a gap in the story. the gap being who do these characters now actually love?? and since this play is pretty much about ‘love can conquer all’, WHO ELSE ARE THEY MEANT TO PUT THESE FEELINGS OF LOVE ON TO OTHER THAN EACH OTHER???? you cannot deny that all these changes made are for the benefit of this relationship and puts a lot more emphasis on them and what they mean to each other. 

slight word changes: 

“marriage” to “allegiance” again relates to the removal of scorpius’ romantic feelings for female characters, completely taking away this whole part of the plot for him. like all he wants is to form a friendship with rose! platonic friends is what they are now. 

again removing “love” and changing it to “harmony” takes away the romantic feelings and just creates a nice friendship. but i do think its sooooo funny that they changed “love” to “harmony” because THAT would’ve been too far for them. as albus wants that palace with scorpius, having “love” would be confirming that they love each other. that can absolutely not happen. but aren’t they just kinda synonyms or am i stupid. also it wouldn’t be that controversial because they already used “love” as albus’ weakness WITH SCORPIUS IN THAT SCENE soooo… the creatives were just too scared to leave it the same. 

we also have the whole ‘in my head’ but we have gone through it in a previous post (https://www.tumblr.com/bawbawbridgie/748173064391557120/since-you-guys-were-begging-me-to-write-about-it?source=share). 

rose’s line is now changed to “if YOU TWO let it be weird”… WHY WOULD IT BE WEIRD???? firstly, he was only asking to be friends. and secondly, why would it be weird for albus? my boy didn’t do anything? it’s almost as if rose is implying something else? perhaps her finding out that something else is going on between them? mhmmm idk. reminder that rose is quite literally on the stage listening to this whole convo.

THAT line: 

i have so many thoughts on this line and what albus is getting at. is this albus’ way of admitting he has feelings for scorpius? is it albus ‘subtly’ trying to understand how his best friend feels about him by pushing the limits of their friendship and see how he’d react? is he asking him out? is he saying he loves him in his own way as he struggles with feelings? orrrr is it simply albus just asking him if rose, his cousin, is actually the one scorpius, his bestie, wants? this line is definitely up to how you all perceive it. for me, i personally feel it’s albus attempting to address delphi outing him because they never really expand on that moment, as well as attempting to push the boundaries of this friendship to see if scorpius wants more than this as well. 

i also find it amusing that albus says this after scorpius expresses he only wants “harmony” and an “eventual alligence” with rose. like scorpius hasn’t actually shown any romantic interest in rose so this means albus doesn’t even want him talking to her. god he’s obsessed with him. 

rose’s input: 

THANK GOD FOR THE REMOVAL OF “SCORPION KING” COZ HOW DID SHE KNOW???? whatever moving on. her cute little line, “you good albus?” eeeeee i love her new role in this scene. she is just looking out for the happiness of her cousin in which i assume she knows about the two of them being more than besties. fr she is also a big scorbus shipper by the end of the play and we love her for that. 

why tf did the creatives do this?:

ughhhhh i do not know. i guess this was the closest they could get without actually confirming they are together?? idk. i do find it amusing to think about the creatives trying to rewrite this scene and how proud they would’ve been when they created this line. kudos to you jack thorne and john tiffany. but in general with the changes, i have so many thoughts and theories about why/when/how they did this which i would love to dive into but it deserves a whole post dedicated to itself.

but i think at the end of this scene/play, this relationship is open ended like there is no definite answer of what they are and can be interpreted however you’d like. and i genuinely really like this, it’s somehow comforting. one question that i still ask myself (which could be quite problematic but here we go) is: are they actually canon? i have so many thoughts about this and could definitely do a seperate post but put simply… sadly no. PLEASE DONT HATE ME I WANT THEM TO BE CANON BUT I CANNOT 100% SAY THEY ARE!!!! and i have my reasons… but that’s a whole different issue.

although we would all like a CLEAR confession/answer (to get us out of our misery), but they are only 14/15 and finding themselves so who knows, maybe at dinner they worked out what they are but i guess we will never know?? ok bye sorry for all that xx

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Enemies to lovers, period sex and dirty talk with james potter please 🥹

yay a kinktober request! this is why i love these things, i would've never put those together (this request gave me some saltburn vibes ngl but dw i didn't take it that direction)

mdni obviously, fem!reader wc: 3.8k - sorry i got a bit carried away; hope you enjoy!

Bloody Hell

Damn, it was like your period was on a schedule to come when as inconvenient as possible recently. You weren’t supposed to get it for a few days. You groan, clutching your achy back, considering whether this meant you had to change your Halloween costume for tonight. You were going to Sirius’s party as witch. It didn’t involve white trousers or anything ridiculously tight or short, so you felt fine wearing your fancy dress with your now necessary period pants. 

As the day dragged on, pain killers helped the cramps, but definitely not the moodiness. It’d been a while since it made you this grumpy. But, Halloween only came once a year, and you’d been excited for the party, so you try to change your attitude as you’re getting ready later.

The witch’s costume is a bit typical, but you’d loved the colours and liked the classics. Besides, it fit unusually well. Tight and loose in all the right places, the perfect skirt length, and not to mention what it did for your… bosom. You looked hot. The first person you see upon arriving at Sirius’s does not help your mood: James bloody Potter. Looking gorgeous as ever… Wait, what? No. Not gorgeous. Annoying. Yes, that was it. Annoying and smug and irritating and fit. Ugh, okay, whatever. He looked really fit. 

He hadn’t dressed too far from his normal self. Still wearing his typical leather jacket and jeans, but he’d cuffed them differently and had arranged his usually very messy luscious head of hair differently. 

“A witch, Y/L/N? Really?” God, why did his stupid, gruff voice always have such an effect on you?

“Not very creative.” “At least I dressed up, Potter. What are you supposed to be? A twat?” 

“Har-har. So witty. This, for your information, is a 1950’s look.” “Oh, is it? I thought I saw you wearing it last week.” 

He just glares at you. “Alright, alright, you two. Should’ve dressed as vampires; hasn’t even been five minutes, and you’re already at each other’s throats,” Sirius comes interrupting, giving you a quick greeting hug and shoving James a bit along the way. 

“Hi, Siri,” you hug back. “Blame your bestie. He’s the one who doesn’t know how to be nice.” “Oh, because you’re always a ray of sunshine?” James retorts. “Fucking hell,” Sirius sighs, already walking away, busy playing host. He’s already turned his back but you — both of you — clearly hear his exasperated, “Just fuck already, and stop torturing the rest of us.” 

Your wide, mortified eyes snap to James, whose expression mirrors yours. Then he just scoffs and walks away. Typical. 

The party goes on and is actually quite fun. The place is completely covered in Halloween decorations, and some of the costumes are amazing. It’s working wonders on your mood, especially when Remus arrives, but the grumpiness has a way of sneaking its way back into your system whenever Potter approaches. 

You catch him looking over at you frequently, and it gets on your nerves. What does he want? To pick a fight? And why do you care? You try to ignore him as you keep chatting to Remus.

But it becomes impossible when he comes to stand right next to you. “Alright, mate?” He claps Remus on the shoulder, completely ignoring you. 

“I’m standing right here, Potter,” you can’t help but say.

“Yes, I noticed.” “Did you? Because, you see, most people when they notice someone is having a conversation, don’t just interrupt it and ignore them.”

Remus is off with a sighed, “Not this again.” “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot how much you love my attention,” James says smugly, finally turning to you and smirking. You roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m desperate for it,” you deadpan. “Though don’t think I haven’t notice you looking at me, Potter. If I did want your attention, I wouldn’t really be left wanting, would I?”

He seems a bit flustered by this, and you love it when you actually manage to get to him, to render him speechless even if for a mere moment. So, without a clear idea of where it will even lead, you pounce on the opportunity that seems to be presenting itself. 

“Am I wrong? Why have you been so interested in what I’m doing tonight then?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, take a step closer. This really throws him.

“Pfft, have not.” He crosses his arms defensively. “Wow. So witty.” You cross your arms, mirroring him. 

This draws his gaze down to your chest, and it lingers there. He seems to catch himself after a few seconds, but it was still a few seconds too many. Interesting. 

God, was there any way Sirius was right? It was bound to happen some time. 

And even if he was… if James was… what? into you? as into you as you were him? was that what you wanted? Actually admitting the feelings sounded much scarier than relentlessly arguing with him forever. 

You’ve gotten lost in your thoughts (and, ugh, feelings), so you don’t notice how long has gone by. Nor do you notice that your demeanour is changing, shifting from teasing and challenging to reflective and slightly worried. 

“What?” James asks, noticing.

“Nothing,” you panic.

“You’re definitely thinking something.” He waves an accusatory finger around your face. “Pfft, am not.” “Wow. So witty,” he repeats, and it’s filled with glee at retaking the upper hand. 

This annoys you to no end, but you still can’t think of anything to say, so you just push past him with a “you’re so annoying.”

You try for a while to enjoy the party, to ignore James Potter — and the many thoughts and feelings about James Potter that won’t stop hounding you. You keep looking over at him, unable to help yourself. 

The seemingly millionth time you do, his eyes catch yours. You want to look away, but something keeps you from doing so. Not wanting to give him the upper hand, again? Not wanting to look away from his beautiful orbs, possibly? 

You just stare at each other from across the room for what feels like the heaviest few seconds of your life. Then his gaze drops, and rather than victory you feel… disappointment. You want him looking at you. Want to look at him back. Your disappointment doesn’t last for too long, though, as you realize he’s walking over to you.

He stops right in front of you, extremely close. He doesn’t say anything. You watch each other intently. “You’re staring at me,” he finally says. “You were staring at me first.” 

Expecting him to deny it, you’re stunned when he responds, “So what if I was?” Then he checks you out shamelessly, his eyes dragging across your whole body, lingering on your chest, exploring your face, before landing back on your own.

That’s it. Stupid, shameless Potter. You do the only thing to do: you take a tiny step forward and smash your lips against his.

He’s kissing you back ardently before you even truly realize what’s happening. His hands grasp you desperately, pulling your body into his; his mouth contorts over yours, devouring you hungrily. He moans deeply enough for you to hear it over the loud sounds of the party. When he gropes your arse, you moan back. But you also realize what the fuck is happening. In the middle of a crowded room. So you pull back from him. 

His mouth chases yours desperately, not wanting to break apart. 

“Wait, James, wait.” He does. And he’s looking at you funny. “Are you alright?” you ask him. “I like how you say my name, sweetheart.” His sincerity surprises you, melts you. So even though you can’t help yourself as you respond, “Whatever, Potter,” it’s much softer than usual, warmth where there’s usually snark. He smirks at you.

“So can we keep kissing now?” “We’re in public, James.” 

You don’t miss his lips quirk at the word. “So?” “So? I’m not a bloody exhibitionist! I have some standards…” “Toilet, then?” “Yeah, toilet,” you nod frantically. 

His hands don’t release your hips the whole way you chase each other to the bathroom. He catches the back of your neck in a couple of quick kisses, and it’s sending tingles down your whole body.

You’re extremely grateful it’s empty when you reach it, rushing in in a frenzy. James slams the door shut and wastes no time in pushing you against it. He picks up where you had left off.

His mouth is hot and delicious against yours, his tongue dancing against yours in its explorations. He enjoys your mouth but soon traces down your jaw and starts sucking on your throat. You shiver at the sensations and pull him to you, your fingers winding into his gorgeous hair. He moans at this and the vibrations directly against your skin make you whimper.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, his lips still tracing your throat. “I love the sounds you make.” 

You hum, and he grazes his teeth across your skin, morphing your voice into a soft yelp. “Yeah, like that,” he chuckles gruffly.

The next time his mouth makes it to the base of your neck, he continues downward. He starts kissing the tops of your tits desperately, bringing his hands up your body to grope them as he does. 

“Fuck, I’ve been going mad all night looking at these. You should wear this every day.” His hands move to your hips pulling you from the door over to the sink. “C’mere,” he says as he lifts you to sit on the small counter.

You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. You play with his hair as he kisses you fervently.

“I’ve always wanted to pull your hair,” you confess, surprising both of you with your honesty. “Oh yeah?” He looks so turned on, you throw any last inhibitions out the window. “Yeah. Fuck, you have nice hair.” You tug harshly on it, and his reacting groan is almost animalistic. His now black eyes stare directly into yours for a charged moment before he dives back into you. 

He kisses wetly down to your throat and chest, and this time when he gets to your breasts, he unceremoniously pulls your dress and bra down. 

“Fuck, you have nice tits,” he echoes and grins. He plays with them, kneading them and tugging on your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before shoving his face between them. He licks across your chest and circles your nipple with his tongue. He switches eagerly between them, puckering them both up before taking one into his greedy mouth and sucking. You let out a loud, strangled whimper at the intense and exquisite sensation, and James hums around your tit. You cradle his head against you.

Rubbing his face against your breasts, he pleads, “That’s it, baby. Keep making those sounds. I love hearing how good you feel. It’s so fucking hot.”

“Jaames,” you whine as he sucks your nipple again. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” Groping them hard one more time, he brings his hands down from your tits, massaging your sides before grabbing your thighs. He squeezes them harshly, jiggling them and running his nails across your skin. 

He’s running his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, toward your center, whispering “You wet for me, baby?” when your stomach drops and you remember, panicking. You’d been so caught up in James, you’d entirely forgotten. 

“Fuck!” you yelp, pushing James away suddenly. He stumbles, then takes a steadying step back. He looks completely confused (and unreasonably sexy, all scruffed up from making out with you). “Fucking hell, Y/N. What? You alright?” 

“I — fuck, yeah, I’m fine — I just — fuck.” You cover your face with your hands and squeeze your thighs shut. “Hey,” James says much more softly. “What’s up, love? Y’alright? You’re kind of freaking me out.” “Ugh, ‘m so sorry,” you slur into your hands. He grabs your wrists gently, pulling them away from your face. “It’s alright, whatever it is. Just… can you tell me what’s wrong?” God, how you wish you could vanish in that moment. Or better, not have had your bloody — literally — body betray you like this this morning. Why this fucking time of all times to come early? 

You’re mortified, embarrassed as hell, wishing there was some way out of this without having to explain the truth and put James Potter off, probably for good. After all the time and tension it’d taken to get you here at all. 

“Y/n?”

You take a steadying breath but still can’t get the words out. So you cover your face again, only able to utter them while feeling hidden from him. “‘M on my period,” you confess. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, so you brave moving your hands down and looking up at him. You’re not sure how to read his expression. Then he grins lightly and brings his hands to your cheeks. He tucks your now messy hair behind your ears on both sides before holding your face. 

He’s surprised you several times tonight, but this next one takes the cake. “If you don’t mind, I don’t mind,” he says simply with a shrug and a caress of your cheeks. “What?” You can’t believe it. Every other guy it’d come up with before had treated it like the most disgusting thing. “I don’t mind,” he repeats, chuckling, moving his face closer to yours to look up deeply into your eyes. 

“Are you serious?” “Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine, obviously. Like if you’re not feeling well or whatever, but if it’s just about the blood… I can handle a little blood.” “It’s more than a little,” you whisper embarrassedly.

“I didn’t mean it literally,” he laughs. How can he seem so lighthearted? Could he really not mind?

He brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling them slowly apart, giving you time to resist the motion, stepping between them when you don’t. He messages them on either side of his hips. “So?” he asks seductively, clearly eager to continue. “You really don’t mind?" “Really. Fuck, Y/N, I’ve been wanting this so fucking long, I’d be a madman if I waited longer just because you’re on your period.” 

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you open your legs a bit wider at his words. The dark smirk that usurps James’s expression as you do makes your cunt pulse. God, you want him. Blood be damned. 

Slowly, so slowly it’s driving you insane, he ghosts his hands over your skin the rest of the way up your legs. When they finally reach your underwear, they snake under the waistband and tentatively pull. You lift your hips, and he yanks them the rest of the way off. 

Instinctively, you try to shut your legs. James standing where he is only lets you do it part of the way. Pushing the insides of your knees open again, he says, “No need to hide, gorgeous.” “I — “ But words fail you. So, you simply let him open your legs. 

Sensing your tension, James kisses you again. He starts softly, but you’re both so hungry for each other, so worked up already despite the interruption, that it’s only a few seconds before you’re ravaging each other again, moaning and grasping and pulling each other close. With his mouth still on yours, one hand holding your face, the other comes between your legs, grazing where your thigh meets your cunt.

You shiver, a combination of nerves and pleasure. He breaks your kiss, but rests his forehead on yours, looking straight into your eyes. He lifts his eyebrows in question, and you nod hesitantly. 

He finally brings his fingers to your center, ghosting over it. When you feel the string of your tampon under his fingers, you ashamedly let out an “Oh, god” then “sorry.”

James tssks at you and whispers, “’S alright, sweetheart. It’s fine. Maybe let’s get rid of this, though, cos it’s where I want to be, yeah?” Fuck, how could he keep turning you on even more? You nod and bring your hand between your legs. You pull out the tampon and toss it over into the rubbish bin.

Without further ado, James touches you properly. His fingers slide up and down your wet folds. Your slick and blood mix under his ministrations, but it feels so fucking unreal that you finally start not to care.

You’d always been sensitive during your period. But no one else had ever touched you during it. Nor had it been after ages of sexual tension and lustful fantasies. Every graze of his hand is divine, and when his motions become proper strokes, the full length of his fingers rubbing against you, you squeal as your head falls onto his shoulder. One hand clutches the sink, the other James. “Feel good?” he teases. “Yes,” you sigh desperately.

“How about this then?” he asks as he plunges two fingers into you. You scream. 

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he laughs. “I mean, keep screaming, but maybe not so loud. Don’t want anyone to come knocking when I’m finally this close to fucking you.”

“Fuck.” “Hmm, that’s it. Just relax, love.” His hand thrusts as his fingers curl inside you, and you clench in utter pleasure. “Fuuuck, you’re squeezing me so bloody tight, love. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” You let out some kind of strained affirmative groan and clench again. “Yeah? Want to feel me fill you up?” “Yes, fuck, yes, please.” 

“Who knew you could be this nice, Y/L/N? That all it’d take was my fingers inside you.” “Shut up, Potter.” But there’s no bite to it. “We both know you don’t want me to shut up. I can feel how much you’re enjoying this.” You just bite your lip and whimper when he pushes his thumb against your clit. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You can bring the snark back after I make you cum.” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the thought, and you nod, giving into him. “I know I could do it like this, but I can’t wait any longer to feel you, baby.”

He pulls his hand out of you, and you whine. When you see how entirely covered in blood it is, any further sounds die in your throat at your mortification. 

“I —“ you start, but James just shakes his head and kisses you to shut you up. Not breaking apart from you, he reaches blindly for the hand towel and cleans his hands when he finally finds it. There’s still dark red traces of you on the fingers that then hurry to his trousers, opening them in a rush. He pushes them down and pulls his cock free. Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight. “James,” you whine. “Yeah, sweetheart?” “Please fuck me.” With a deep groan, one of his hands roughly pulls your head to keep making out with you and the other grabs his cock and lines it up with your center. He pushes in fast. His mouth devours the sounds yours makes in response. 

He starts pounding in and out of you, not bothering to start slow. You’re sure you’d be wet enough regardless, but as things stand, he’s gliding in and out of you. A loud squelching sounds as he thrusts, but before you have time to be embarrassed, James moans, “Fuck, you feel so fucking amazing,” and pounds harder.

He has to bring one hand to the sink just behind you to stabilize himself from how roughly he’s going; his other hand takes a vice-like grip of your hip. His head ends up in the crook of your neck, and he kisses and sucks. Your hand comes to his hair, your other arm clinging around his shoulders clutching him as your whole body reverberates with his movements.

He slows down only enough to lean his head slightly down to where your tits are bouncing. He sucks your nipple and keeps it in his mouth as he keeps fucking into you. At the harsh and unexpected suck, you scream again. He makes no effort to quiet you. 

With his face at your chest, he’s opened a bit of space between your bodies, and he brings a hand to where he keeps disappearing in and out of you. He starts rubbing messily on your clit. 

With that sensation on top of all the others that have your body on fire, you cum violently around him with strangled yell. 

He thrusts through it, but a few clenches of your pussy later, he can’t help but cum too. Your clutching cunt milks him dry. 

He’s panting loudly when he finally stops moving, his hips still, his face resting on your chest. An aftershock ripples through him, and his body gives a quick shake. Then he gives your breast a quick peck before moving to kiss your mouth. It doesn’t last; he’s so out of breath, but he rests his forehead on yours as he recovers. His arms rest on the sink on either side of you, caging you in. You feel warm and safe, and you stroke up and down his strong arms. He smiles and pecks your lips. 

“Not bad, Potter,” you finally break the silence. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“You cannot possibly act nonchalant after the sounds you just made, Y/L/N. I’m surprised no one burst in here thinking someone was getting murdered.”

You laugh together. It’s concerningly nice.

When you settle down, James looks between you. He pulls out gently. And it’s a fucking mess. 

“I don’t think the words ‘bloody hell’ have ever been so appropriate,” he jokes, staring at it. “Oh god,” you say, covering your face in your hands again. “C’mon, Y/L/N. I thought we were past this bit.” It’s harsh but encouraging as he pulls your hands from your face and quickly kisses your forehead. “C’mon,” he offers as he helps lift you off the counter in a way that lets you hop over the… puddle. 

You both stand there staring at the crimson crime scene of a sink. 

Looking at it but leaning toward you, James asks, “D’you think we could get away with saying it’s Halloween decorations?” 

You burst out laughing again.

“The blood, maybe, but… there’s some of you there too…” 

“Well, at least our first time is certainly memorable. Happy Halloween, Y/L/N.” 

Your heart does something funny at “first time.” So, you ignore it for now and simply say, “Help me clean this up before Sirius actually does murder us in here.”

[dolliethv]

One Of The Girls.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! Hiii, this is a pretty TO long story, I wanted to write something with a lot of sexual tension and a lot of smut, read it calmly and I hope you enjoy it xoxo!!

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 6k

You weren't sure if attending Jude's party was a good idea, but something inside you—maybe the excitement of Halloween and the thought of celebrating with your group of friends, or perhaps the hope of seeing him—convinced you. Jude's huge, new house in Madrid, decorated with lit pumpkins and fake cobwebs, gleamed in the distance, full of people already enjoying the night.

You stepped inside, and strobe lights danced on the walls, while laughter and music filled the air. You grabbed a drink as you passed by the improvised bar, trying to relax. You hadn’t taken more than two steps when you felt that familiar gaze tracing your body. You slowly turned, and there he was, Jude, leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed solely on you.

You wished the ground would swallow you because your damn group of friends was headed straight toward Jude Bellingham’s group. Of course, they all knew each other.

After your friends had chatted enough with the other group, you decided to take the lead.

"Couldn’t you put a little more effort into your costume?" That was the first thing you asked when you finally looked him in the eyes for the first time that night.

Curious about what he was actually dressed as?

Seriously? A simple cop uniform? You could bet your life on the fact that men have zero originality—they always go for the easy option. Lord, give me patience.

You absolutely hated basic Halloween costumes. Anything that took less than ten minutes and minimal effort didn’t deserve attention. It might seem a bit over the top, but given the number of creative ideas this particular holiday offered, you just couldn’t stand it.

Not when you even designed and made your own costume for the occasion.

But it was funny how quickly Jude changed your mind.

Basic is good. Basic is great. Damn it.

"What’s your costume supposed to be, anyway?" Jude continued, his voice calm but his body still a bit tense.

"It’s Suki from Fast and Furious!" Drew, one of Jude’s friends, shouted loud enough that the music barely muffled it.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his blatant staring, but truthfully, neither of you cared. You turned and headed off with your friends to who knows where.

You knew you looked good. You’d worked particularly hard on your outfit for tonight, so you had no reason to hide. Everything was perfectly planned, from head to toe.

Minutes passed, and you tried to convince yourself there was no reason to panic, but there were a lot of people, and your outfit was a bit too revealing. So, when you felt hands around your waist, you were ready to scream for whoever it was to back off.

"It's me."

Oh my God, you almost had a heart attack.

Jude pulled you against him, your back pressed to his chest, his left hand settling on your hip while his right extended around your shoulder to not-so-gently push people aside. The tall, dark-haired boy didn’t take long to start moving you both, making space with his prominent frame when people were too slow to get out of the way, shoving them until he cleared a path for both of you.

Stupid party, stupid Jude Bellingham. It was his fault you ended up there anyway. Jude may not have seen your face, but he definitely felt how tense you were in his arms.

"Why the bad attitude?"

Bad attitude? You didn’t know much about attitudes, but all your limited knowledge vanished when he pulled you even closer.

You cleared your throat briefly, your words followed by a slight shake of your head.

"Am I the one with the bad attitude?" you replied.

Because truthfully, you’d been on your best behavior since you got to that house. Or at least trying.

Jude loved driving you crazy; he thought you looked damn adorable acting tough at barely 5'1".

"By the way, you look amazing."

It was a great move, saying something so flattering to ease the tension.

"Thanks," you murmured, not caring whether he heard, your eyes glued to the back of the guy Jude was elbowing out of the way.

Two stomped-on feet and a "Are you gonna move or what the hell are you waiting for?" later, you were finally out of the chaos.

Well, as far out of danger as you could be at a party and in a house full of mostly strangers.

However, Jude didn’t stop there. He guided you to what you vaguely recognized as the first hallway on the right, his hands never leaving your body. It wasn’t unpleasant for you, not at all, but you both drew more than a few curious stares. It didn’t bother you much now that your closest friends knew. Other people’s opinions of you were never the most positive anyway, but you were surprised at how little Jude seemed to care, considering it was his house.

When you finally stopped, you found yourselves where you’d suspected a few moments earlier, slightly sheltered from the loud music. There were a few other people around, but they were far enough away not to intrude on your conversation.

Jude released you a few seconds before turning you around and wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close as he leaned against the wall.

"I like your hairstyle; it’s cute," he said, grabbing a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Scratch that. Actually, I love how sexy you look with your hair down."

You were starting to seriously regret the day you told Jude you wouldn’t mind being complimented daily because it was getting out of hand.

How were you supposed to function properly when Jude kept looking at you with dark eyes?

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze to the side of his face to avoid dealing with the intensity of his stare. You needed to say something and had to do it now.

"People were staring at us."

Of course, your voice trembled, and of course, out of all the things you could’ve said, you picked the one with the most potential to ruin the moment.

Jude was being very open tonight, and while you didn’t dislike it, it was new and somehow made him even more intimidating. All you could focus on was trying to stay afloat, despite involuntarily melting into the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his voice.

"When you look like that, baby, of course, people are going to stare."

You were getting nervous so quickly that it was unreasonable. Your breathing was already picking up, and butterflies were fluttering, one by one, to the point that you could no longer distinguish between those in your heart and those in your stomach.

This was exactly why you shouldn’t stay away from Jude for too long.

"News travels fast, Bellingham. Especially when you’re the footballer of the moment."

But with Jude, you didn’t have to worry. Jude could take care of both of you, and maybe you shouldn’t trust him, but God, it felt so good to be protected.

You desperately wanted to kiss him. Every brush of his thumb against your skin was electrifying. You needed to be closer, needed more, and this time, it had nothing to do with lust.

It was the kind of need you hadn’t felt before, the kind that demanded an exchange of feelings, even if not through words. Even if you tore off your clothes and pressed skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, it wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to be inside Jude’s mind, to share all his thoughts, to experience the unknown, to finally understand each other, but you were too scared.

You couldn’t get there just yet.

"Your costume is stupid," you finally said, your voice coming out a bit more determined.

Jude’s lips curled into a smile, which quickly turned into a laugh that disappeared just as fast, but it was definitely something worth remembering.

"You’re so good at flirting," he purred sarcastically. "Tell me more."

You thought you might be able to keep a straight face, but as soon as you saw him smile, you followed. There was something so addictive about it, maybe the fact that you didn’t see it often, but it definitely made Jude ten times more attractive.

And he was already too attractive to begin with. God.

"It really is stupid," you confirmed your own thoughts, your fingers trailing up to fix the collar of Jude’s cop uniform. "But you look so sexy. I don’t know why I’m so into this kind of stuff."

You knew you weren’t the only one. It’s not for nothing that women love men in uniform.

"You don’t like the uniforms; you like the authority behind them. Or should I say, you’re afraid of it?"

Even though you had the same smile, Jude looked completely different, but he was right. You always felt uneasy around any kind of authority figure.

Watching Jude—with the quite noticeable height and body size difference compared to you, with the sleeves of his uniform stretching around his biceps every time he moved—you couldn’t blame yourself for feeling a bit nervous.

And to top it all off, a pair of very real-looking handcuffs hung from his belt.

So yeah, you gave up your principles about liking the basic for one night, but Jude had chosen a really good costume to spark your imagination.

"Honestly..." Jude grabbed your chin and pulled you even closer, his eyes fixed on your lips. "I wouldn’t mind being a cop if it meant I could make pretty things like you tremble."

As if he needed to be a cop to do that. Idiot.

As if you didn’t already find him intimidating enough without the costume. As if your knees didn’t buckle and your body didn’t heat up every time Jude looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds.

"I think that’d be an abuse of power."

Very socially aware of you, but it might be more believable if you stopped looking at him like you wanted him to take advantage of you. You know it's wrong to think that.

Jude hummed, sliding his thumb over your lower lip before pressing it and pulling it down. The movement was so sudden it made you hiss. It was almost embarrassing how willing you were for Jude to do whatever he wanted, to play with your body however he pleased, without questioning the reason.

"It isn’t if you enjoy it."

Their heads tilted to opposite sides, moving closer with lips tingling from the desire to kiss. You could feel Jude exhale before gently pressing his body against yours and brushing his mouth against yours when—

"Bellingham!"

Both grimaced, and you quickly jumped back, your hands starting to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes. You didn’t turn around or look at Jude; you didn’t want to know if someone had really seen you and didn’t want to deal with it.

Jude’s friends weren’t the type of people he enjoyed talking to, so it would be weird to find yourself in a situation where you had to pretend to be a bit interested in what they had to say.

"Oh, hey," Jude responded with much less enthusiasm as the sound of footsteps grew louder.

"Good party, man."

You recognized the characteristically deep voice and immediately tried to move a little further from the sound. You opted to take the empty space next to Jude, and to avoid seeming rude, you looked up, meeting Trent Alexander’s eyes before giving a small nod in his direction. The man nodded back with a shy smile resting on your lips.

"Hey y/n, you look great!!" He said.

"Thanks."

You knew him, or at least you knew who Alexander was. In your defense, you knew all the people in your circle of unfortunately extroverted friends. You knew he was a guy with too much money, another footballer, not surprisingly—very attractive—and also much kinder than many other rich and attractive people.

However, you started to feel anxious.

Alexander didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, even after greeting you. But then the guy lowered his gaze, not going below the level of your skirt, but enough to make you wonder— is this guy checking me out?—God, men are all so bold.

Suddenly, Bellingham cleared his throat, subtly but enough to move you a little out of Trent’s view.

Oh, okay.

"Sorry to bother you, but my friend here won’t stop saying she wants to meet the great Jude Bellingham."

Unaware of the presence of someone else before, you moved your gaze to Trent, where a model-like tall girl was giving all her attention to Jude.

You were annoyed by how attractive she was. You couldn’t imagine how she looked in Jude’s eyes. You weren’t a fan of the cliché thought of hating other women over men, but damn, this feeling was hard to handle.

"Can you blame me? He looks even better than I imagined," she said loudly.

Then you looked at how that girl was dressed.

She was obviously someone very bold, and you were all for female empowerment, but if she came any closer to Jude, you’d have to break her neck.

If Jude hadn’t noticed her before, he definitely was now, shamelessly scanning her figure until stopping on her chest a bit longer than necessary. When he looked back at her face, he gave her a playful smile.

"She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. My kind of girl."

Sorry, what? His type of what? Is he really giving me a hint?

A fake and shy smile spread across the unknown girl’s face as she tilted her head slightly and flipped her hair back, exposing more of her neck and collarbones.

"Oh, yeah?" She asked, her voice interrupted by laughter. "What else is your type?"

Me?

The girl started tracing circles with her index finger over the lower part of her collarbone before dragging it down, outlining the beginning of her breasts. They were quite exposed; it was hard not to notice them, but there was no worse way Jude could handle it than staring at them, his expression not hiding what he was thinking.

Bellingham took a step towards her, immediately placing his right hand on her hip without gripping it, just touching a bit, while moving to whisper something in her ear.

There was absolutely no damn way Jude was doing this in front of you, there must be some kind of reality error. No fucking way, you were really holding yourself back from pulling him away from her and giving him a beating.

Once the brunette straightened up, they were both smiling, and you couldn’t hear it, but you read it from the girl’s lips.

"I got lucky tonight."

Well, you had never considered yourself a crazy person, or at least not one who acted out of her mind with no regard for social norms.

Nevertheless, at that moment, you could barely stand.

You had no doubt about it anymore; it was too strong not to recognize, too powerful to ignore. You were jealous, so jealous that all you could think about was violence and all you could see was red.

"I’m leaving," Alexander suddenly said, visibly uncomfortable with the looks being exchanged.

You didn’t even have time to thank him mentally before the girl grabbed his arm as if her life depended on it, sweetly smiling at Jungkook and saying:

"I’ll be waiting."

And with that, they left.

The crowd made them disappear in less than a minute, leaving no trace. All you could focus on now was the unshakable smile on Jude’s face.

You despised him.

None of this was part of the plan.

Jude’s plan was to keep you without sex for a while, make you show how much you missed him, make you feel so needy that you’d give in to anything in seconds. Bellingham thought nothing could compare to the feeling he’d have once he saw your desperation, the ease with which he’d let you go, giving him the upper hand in the situation.

He was wrong.

Something better than a proud version of you was a version willing to admit, to admit that you were jealous, and he made you realize it after this little outburst.

"Where were we?" He asked as if nothing had happened, his attention slowly returning to you, clearly displeased at his side.

-I might have overstepped a bit- you thought. Relax.

Since Jude did everything he could to avoid giving you more than a glance while talking to that girl, wanting to make it as real as possible, he was enjoying watching your reaction.

You stared defiantly at the wall opposite them, obviously trying to transfer all your anger to her instead of Jude.

Seeing you cute probably wasn’t what you was looking for, but Jude found it absolutely adorable.

"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?" He gently brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his voice laced with false concern.

"No."

It wasn’t a very convincing lie with your teeth clenched and a blank expression on your face.

"Mm, I think it is."

"Good for you."

Jude had to stifle a satisfied smile. The way you responded with the first thing that came to your mind showed you weren’t thinking much before speaking.

"Not in the mood for a conversation anymore?"

You closed your eyes.

But you couldn’t do that, not when it was exactly what you wanted to do. He couldn’t be the first to break, admit his lust, show that he wanted to be with you so much that he’d trample his pride.

Not again.

“You know, I never took you for a jerk who got jealous so easily.”

If it were physically possible, your jaw would be hitting the floor. The air caught in your throat and your lips hung oddly open as you looked at Jude and found the lack of concern on his features.

Being honest was the easiest way to get through to him.

“How dare you?” You asked offended, pushing Jude away as hard as you could.

His balance seemed to falter as you failed to move him an inch, but he did successfully sway on his two feet, before Jude grabbed your wrists.

“How dare I what?” He asked you with an amused smirk. “Does she make you jealous? I was just having a conversation, babe.”

“No, not that.” You finished your statement with an irritated groan, violently breaking free from his hold. “You’re an idiot. Go have a conversation then.”

“Should I?”

The look you gave him only said one thing. “I fucking dare you.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to find her?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You didn’t look at her face even once.”

Well, if it wasn’t obvious, you screwed up. The chances of her living without Bellingham mentioning what you wanted him to not notice were now basically non-existent.

“She didn’t put that on so I would look at her face.”

You had never looked so angry, your head shaking in disbelief and fists clenched on either side of your body. You looked like you were really struggling not to slap him and Jude couldn’t blame you. That was the point, after all.

“Oh, wow.”

He was already on his way to calming her down, his hands reaching for your waist, when you raised his in defense.

“Don’t touch me.”

You even pointed with your index finger in warning, wagging it when Jude didn’t stop.

“I’m not joking, I’ll slap you, don’t touch me- mhppm-”

With one hand around your waist and the other pressing against your jaw, Jude had you backed up against the wall in no time. Despite your earlier threats and your bad mood, you surrendered into his arms quickly, melting into the touch, your soft moans being muffled by Jude’s mouth. The longer it went on, the more eager you became, tugging at his uniform, trying to pull him closer despite your bodies already being together.

When he pulled away, you were a mess. It was being a fight for him to refuse your touch.

“We can go to my room…”

He whispered against you, before moving lower.

“Talk…”

He pressed a kiss against your chin

“I’ll make you laugh…”

And then one on the side of your jaw

“I can make you cum…”

You shuddered at the proposal.

You both knew he wanted it, that was not in doubt. The question was how far he would go to get it.

“You will have my full attention.” With sarcasm.

Another kiss, just below your ear.

“All you need to do is ask.” He made sure you were looking at each other when he spoke, eager to see your reaction. “Tell me you don’t want to see me with someone else.”

You noticed how your body completely gave out, all hope in your eyes. Your excitement was replaced with panic as your pupils dilated and your mouth opened and closed without saying a word.

The offer was so tempting, the promise so real, so possible. I hate it.

You wanted it so badly, but it was a matter of pride and even though you were the prouder of the two of you, it was clear that you still had a hard time taking a step back from him.

“If I need to ask for attention, then I don’t want it.” You replied with a dry tone.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Your jaw clenched at the implication. You knew it.

With the girl dressed in a bad porn nurse costume.

(...)

“Can you stop looking at him? I’m talking to you.”

The words of Odessa, your best friend, barely reached your ears, your thoughts overwhelming you in an almost pleasurable way.

You watched as Jude’s hand wrapped around an unfamiliar waist for the umpteenth time that night, causing your own fingers to grip your knee tightly.

This time it was a redhead, dressed in something that was more meant to cover the most private parts of her body than disguise, but who were you to judge? Right?

There was clearly a set pattern that you noticed during the time you spent sitting, gaping and staring in Bellingham’s direction. People would come up to say hello, most often women, their hands touching as much as they could without being inappropriate and a few minutes after sharing a few words they would come over with eyes fluttering in a way that could only mean one thing.

The first few times it happened, your heart nearly stopped beating. You were sure you knew what was about to happen next- Jude would take her by the hand and lead her to his bedroom.

But it didn’t happen. Not with the curly-haired brunette, not with the six-foot-eight leggy blonde, not with the one he was feasting on now.

Is he not interested? You asked yourself.

A raspy growl rumbled somewhere deep in your throat before you grabbed your glass and clumsily emptied it down your throat, not caring how the liquid spilled from the corners of your lips and down your chin.

You called out to your friends, as you abruptly stood up, almost tripping over someone sitting between them.

“Let’s dance.”

Your lips formed a smile at the thought of Jude seeing you with someone else. It was childish, yes, but you didn't really care.

You were about to execute your plan, but when you turned around, you found nothing worth your attention. The spot Jude was occupying all this time now had other people in it, no sign of the brunette in sight.

You wished you could say that it didn’t affect you.

So you turned your back on your friends and walked in the opposite direction, your newly gained good mood now ruined. You thought maybe if Jude admitted to being jealous, you could too. It would make it less embarrassing.

If Jude was here, surely he could get something better.

Yes, if Jude was here. If he wasn't fucking someone else.

"Having fun?"

A familiar voice reached your ears, close enough to feel the vibration of the sound, making you shiver, thanking God the place was too dark for anyone to notice as Bellingham's proximity made your entire body shake.

You kept your eyes on the empty glass in front of you not quite sure how you were going to respond with his mood.

Any words or actions from you from now on could be detrimental.

"Don't you want to talk to me?"

Silence.

"Okay, I'll go then."

Jude didn't even move. He didn't pull away, nor did he lean back. He stood right where he was five seconds ago, the same annoyed, mocking smile on his features.

"You're still not jealous?"

You weren't just jealous, you were seething with it.

"I am, actually. Tell anyone and I'll make sure it's the last thing that comes out of your mouth."

Admitting jealousy was a big deal for you, especially since you didn't know if Jude felt the same way. Also knowing what was coming after this.

"There's not much that can brighten my mood right now."you entered the room, "I just needed courage for what I'm about to do." locking it once the door was closed.

When you turned around, your eyes met and Jude felt something he hadn't felt in a while, it felt like he didn't really know anything about you.

He wasn't blind to the progress you'd made in the different areas of your relationship, but there was still a lot left to say, explain, discover, and - in a situation like this, when you seemed to be a completely different person - he was surprised at how much he still had to get to know you.

"Yeah? And can I know what it is?"

He longed to feel you again on other parts of his body and even more so when your hot mouth landed on his mouth as you said-

"Punish you."

It wasn't that it hadn't crossed Jude's mind that you might do something like this all night, but still, hearing you out loud was enough to bring a smug smile to his lips.

"Oh, really?"

It would be a lie to say you didn't find it fun.

Things were definitely taking a different turn than he had planned, but then again, ever since the party started, all of his plans were ruined, so he was surprisingly not opposed to the idea.

He was actually very intrigued.

You hummed in agreement and within seconds your hands were back on Jude's body, this time being bolder and freer with your movements.

It was the first proper touch that night and Bellingham thought he was ready, but he really had no idea how much he had missed this until he experienced it again. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the feel of your palms and the heaviness of your fingers prevented him from doing so.

Your hands moved in opposite directions, one sliding down his abdomen and the other circling the side of his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you traced circles on his skin, massaging and releasing some of the tension.

He had a hard time trying to keep from getting an erection from the moment he laid eyes on you when you arrived. Now... now it was impossible.

"You know..." you started saying.

Jude heard your whisper, but could barely register it due to the heat that was beginning to creep steadily down his body, fading only for a moment when his belt got in the way, but then coming back stronger, with a grip more powerful than before. Bellingham would be ashamed to admit that his breath hitched as soon as he felt you where he wanted it most.

“I’d rather have these for myself, but you left me no choice.”

It all clicked, both metaphorically and literally, in his brain and out loud, but Jude couldn’t move fast enough to stop it.

The handcuffs were already dangling from the tip of your index finger as you swung them teasingly back and forth in front of his face.

Oh. Interesting.

The way you could overpower Jude in a mere second was wonderful.

“What makes you think I’m going to let you do that?”

You pursed your lips briefly as if contemplating his answer.

“And what makes you think I’m going to ask for your permission?” You replied.

“Maybe that drink was too much after all,” he looked at you with a smirk. “Looks like you’re confusing roles.”

Judging by his expression, you didn’t share the same opinion.

You pushed him until the back of his knees hit the bed.

Jude didn’t stop you or object, instead sitting on the edge as he was pushed down, curious to see how things would play out.

“Are you threatening me, baby?” He asked, leaning back on his forearms.

You looked perfect from every angle, she was so sure of it now.

Your free hand gripping Jude’s jaw and squeezing it a little in annoyance.

“My name isn't ‘baby’.”

You slid your fingers down the side of Bellingham's throat where the smear of a lipstick still rested on his skin.

As you stared into each other's eyes, you looked so angry that Jude couldn't help the heat spreading throughout his insides.

"Wouldn't that make you even more angry, baby?" He emphasized on the nickname on purpose, arching an eyebrow mockingly.

The sound that came out of your throat was quiet, but he didn't miss it.

-Even her grunts are cute.-

"Shut the fuck up."

It was clear that you weren't usually the type to get angry to that extent, and even if you had been, you were the type to never act on it.

"Keep your hands behind your back if you don't want to lose your most prized possession."

You felt it before you understood it - a pressure of something hard and unfamiliar against your crotch. Something unwanted.

And it came, a sign. Not too big, not too flashy, not too obvious, but painful and threatening.

Your foot moved so abruptly that the tip of your shoe met the tip of Jude's cock and hit dangerously close to his balls.

You did it. I got you.

"Good choice."

With one swift movement, his crotch was free again, but his hands were bound at the wrists by the steel rings.

You pushed him down onto the bed and pulled his shirt open, leaving his chest completely bare.

“Shit,” you muttered at the sight. “You’re lucky to be attractive.”

“And you’re lucky to be able to see me like this.”

You sent him a questioning look. “Oh, I am? Who hasn’t gotten to see you like this? Because from what I’ve witnessed, you don’t exactly have a criterion when it comes to who you let undress you.”

“You seem really upset by that thought, sweetheart. Are you scared of having a little competition?”

“And what makes them my competition? They’re not as pretty as me.”

“But they’re a lot more obedient.” He replied.

Pure shit.

There’s nothing Jude likes more than how disobedient you are.

“You know my legs are always open for you.”

"Baby..."

"You know you can take anything you want from me, anywhere you want... any way you want..."

Every syllable that came out of your mouth was filled with confidence. Your fingers caressed his jaw as if he was teasing, barely grazing the skin before pulling away and touching another part.

"You have such a dirty mouth." The boy said.

"You want it around your cock?"

Holy shit, did you really say that?

"Yeah."

You hummed, acting like you were considering it.

"But I think you acted like shit, I don't think you deserve it."

"You're lucky that I'm tied up right now, otherwise I'd fuck you until you were ruined."

You seemed to take it as a compliment, your thighs clenching tightly around Bellingham's hips to feel him better.

"Oh yeah? You wanna fuck me?"

As if his massive erection wasn't proof enough already.

“Yes, baby. So bad.”

His confession brought a satisfied smile to your face.

“You wanna see what I got under there?”

“Show me how pretty you are.”

But you didn’t take off any clothes.

You just started riding one of his thighs, your movements teasing and slow.

“Shit. Take this off me.” The dark-skinned one said.

“And why would I do that?”

God, this was getting so frustrating. Jude wanted nothing more to do than watch you choke on his cock until you remembered how to talk to him properly. You shifted a little on his lap, creating a small but effective friction.

“Baby…”

“Suck.” You claimed.

Shit. Usually, Jude was the one giving the orders. Usually, you were the one with Jude’s fingers inside your mouth, too. He opened his mouth obligingly and you immediately pushed two of your fingers in, letting them rest on the tip of his tongue before pushing them fully into his mouth.

“You like having my fingers in your mouth?”

Jude couldn’t help but like the mess he was turning you into.

You withdrew your fingers without warning and brought them to your own mouth, sucking and moaning lewdly as you looked directly into Bellingham’s eyes.

“You’re so fucking dirty.”

Your hand trailed until it was just above your breasts, eyes still on Jude’s as you squeezed your tits.

Jude didn’t even have time to react before he saw you move up your own body and rub through the material covering your pussy, touching up and down a bit teasing the boy in front of you, leaving a wet spot when you pulled your hand away.

“Move your hips for me. Can you do that for me?” That innocent tone you set made Jude explode. And he didn't need to be told twice.

He put all of his weight on his arms, his palms and heels sinking deep into the mattress, and he lifted his hips so hard that you jumped a little on his lap.

Without further ado, he thrust up, fast at first, to give you a taste of his desire, but then slower, nicer, dragging his length over your underwear-covered clit.

You decided to go a little further and freed Jude's cock, so damn big and veiny. You pulled off your underwear and started rubbing yourself. It was so damn delicious the difference in size and how the head of Jude's cock rubbed against your clit.

But what kind of punishment would it be, giving him something he so craved? You knew. You had prepared better.

So when you forgot about everything except the repetitive motion you were supposed to follow, when your moans were finally released loud and clear in the way only he had heard them before, when he could already feel the pleasure, you lifted your hips.

Bellingham groaned in frustration, closing his eyes as he fucked into the air, unable to stop his body from seeking the orgasm he had just been denied.

“Untie me this very instant.”

He may not have sounded angry at his ragged breathing, his body still recovering from the denial, but he was and he would gladly show you how terrifying he could be if he gave him the chance.

You smiled sweetly, dropping your weight onto his lap, a movement so sudden it left him breathless.

“No.”

"I wasn't-" He trailed off, a small sound escaping his mouth from another roll of your hips on his axis. "I wasn't asking."

"Fuck, did I tell you how big you are?" You replied, your small body shaking as you pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. "You should learn not to play with me Bellingham, I'm not one of those girls, don't get wrong with me."

You pulled up your underwear and pulled back up the shorts that barely covered your ass and the small miniskirt accompanied by a pink belt that was hooked with straps to the leggings that reached just above your knee.

"Shit, shit, shit..." He replied frustrated.

"I'm sorry but now you'll have to fix this on your own." You turned around and walked away.

Jude Bellingham is totally lost.

[potatomountain]

CIY- CH 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Turning Point" 📍WC: 3.3k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, some angst, dark themes implied, oral (male receiving), body piercings, cum-eating, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour 📍dividers made by: @cafekitsune 📍AN: As a birthday gift to me (9-24) I am posting this hecka early. But also annoucing that there will not be another CIY posting until after October (most likely. who knows, i might get impatient myself) as ill be focusing on Kinktober and some fics i have planned for October! There are 6 chapters left (roughly) so please enjoy <3

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Three weeks. Three weeks had gone by and you had to admit, you missed them. Well, some of them. Wooyoung’s incessant need for you. San and his flirting- his dimples. Yeosang’s cute little lisp and the sound of him tapping away on his keyboard. Hell you even missed hearing Mingi fuck others and keeping you awake at night. You might even miss Jongho’s constant scowl in your presence.

Seonghwa had been taking you to and from the club every night, five nights a week, and would tell you to rest the other two. You wouldn’t come into the office but now you wanted to. Maybe then you could do something about this odd bundle of emotions in your stomach. Yeosang sent you instructions on how to fill out a report of your undercover work on the program he installed in your laptop, which automatically stored the vital information and categorized and compared it with the rest. So in short, now you couldn’t even tell them about the new rumors you’ve picked up at the club.

At least now you knew why they were so busy, far too busy for you. The Vipers and the Wolves were still at each other’s throat, fucking up cash grabs, stealing product, or raiding known businesses of the other. San told you he was cleared to head back to fighting soon, and it worried you that the Wolves would hit the fighting ring while he was there.

But, what could you do about it? Undercover work was something that took months to years to gain enough influence to make a difference. You were nothing more than a fly on the wall gathering information, searching for weaknesses to use against the big players. A slip up that could get them behind bars.

Once more you thought of the dead boy in the alley. Once more you pictured someone else as that dead body. And once more you realized that, as a detective, there was nothing you could do to prevent that. It was a frustrating feeling.

And that’s why you found yourself heading to the gym on your next free day, ready to punch the frustration out or work up enough of a sweat that your muscles would be screaming at you until tomorrow.

It was a nice sweet surprise to find Hongjoong there, working on one of the machines, a thin sheen of sweat coating his bare arms and calves. He was wearing a hat, black tank and black gym shorts with an airpod in as he was chatting with someone. He didn’t notice you at first, but when you got close enough to hear his conversation, you frowned at how quick he hung up when he did notice you. “I’ll call you back later.” The weights dropped as he let go of the handles to turn the call off, shifting to look up at you with a bright and charming smile despite your deepening frown. “Firecracker, lovely to see you here.”

“Cut the bullshit” you weren’t having it today. Had the three weeks away changed something? Had your observations just been wishful thinking? Why was he hiding things from you? They still didn’t trust you fully did they? Ah, that hurt. Hongjoong seemed to catch on by your tone and stance, the smile softening to something more genuinely welcoming. “It was San, he was giving me an update on the Vipers I-” “Am I not allowed to hear what you had to say?” You cut him off, still staring him down. You shouldn’t be getting so worked up, you really shouldn’t.

But Hongjoong seemed good at reading you, reaching out and holding his hand palm up. “Would it ease your mind to know what is going on? What he was telling me? Or can I ask you to trust me on this, and you can learn all about it later?” You stared at his hand for a moment, eyes running up his arm to the tattoos that covered his bicep. Briefly you glanced at the ink before meeting his eyes. “It’s a delicate matter?” You decided to ask, arms uncrossing to rest at your sides. “Yes. The war they have going on is turning into a bloodbath.” He didn’t elaborate, just smiled wider when you did take his hand finally. Gently he pulled you closer.

Relaxing a bit further, you let him. He didn’t need to explain, because you realized what he meant. The Vipers were losing everything, and the Wolves would take what they could from them. Killing, maiming, or selling off each member or even associate. “I see… what are we doing about it?” He lifted a brow at your choice of words, pulling you right between his knees and holding both of your hands. You don’t know why he insisted on this sort of touch, but you didn’t mind one bit. “Nothing we can do. We can’t pull San out safely, but there isn’t a way we can stop the Wolves either. Not without risking more. Did you come here to blow off some steam? Worried about him?” Slowly you nodded, staring at your joined hands. “I don’t want to punch anything, just not think. The Boas don’t care much for either, but I hear how ruthless the Wolves are. They’re scared of them much more than the Vipers and-” Your words were cut off as he pulled you onto his lap. “Captain?” “How do you think San can get out of this unscathed? I’m worried too, Firecracker, and even if we can’t do much, it’s better to have some hope that something can happen to save him. Right?” He was comforting you, wasn’t he? The notion had your cheeks warming, mind shifting to the question. With everything you knew, what needed to happen for San to be truly safe from the Wolves? “I… well the Vipers are no match for the Wolves alone but if they had help… then San’s chances of- well you know. The Guardians are the only ones who can stop the Wolves, but I don’t see how they would get involved. Not unless this war causes significantly more damage, or they believe it will.” Your original thought was the Guardians getting rid of the Wolves anyways. After all, the more you learned about them, the more you realized that the biggest, scariest monster out there was the Wolves. The Vipers would be easier to take down, same with the Goblins. The Golden Circle could just be bought out, most of them just greedy cowards. And the Guardians and Pirates? They cared more for regulation to an extent than chaos.

The Wolves enjoy being cruel for cruelty’s sake. Sadists, killers, men who wanted to see the world burn and wanted to be the hands responsible for it. People were toys to them. Ones they wanted to break and use any way they saw fit.

You’d rather see San with his busted lip and black eye from a fight in the ring rather than the possible torture the Wolves would put him through. “The Wolves won’t stop until every last Viper is dead or turned to them or sold. I’d rather the Vipers win, and that can't happen without the Guardians. Either working together or the Guardians step in to apply pressure to the Wolves to back them off.” Hongjoong’s sudden bright smile threw you off and you were on your feet in a second. “What?” He chuckled, just to pull you back down with enough force you tumbled into him, hands on his chest and lips suddenly on his. He swallowed up your squeak, pulling you fully onto his lap as his tongue sought yours. You hadn’t expected it, but he tasted so good that you didn’t want to pull away. Yet as soon as melted into him, he was separating your mouths. “You really are a genius, I think. That’s something we never thought of.” You blushed at his compliment, staring up at him as his fingers carded through your hair. “What ideas did you have?” “Ones that involved what the Vipers alone could do, or we as detectives. Sometimes we forget to take a step back and see all this from a different angle.” “I see… but can we really do anything like that?” He shrugged. “We could have Wooyoung or San suggest it. If the Vipers are smart, and want to survive, they’ll latch onto that idea hopefully before it’s too late.” Pride swelled through you, as well as respect. Hongjoong did respect you, to go from easing your worries, to turning your thoughts into something productive, and then backing your idea as an equal. All while he was kissing you, touching you, melting you in his arms like you were his lover.

“Captain-” “Please call me Hongjoong, or something like that outside the office. Especially when you’re in my arms like this.” He stopped you, arm tightening on your waist while his other hand massaged your scalp a bit. He chuckled at the pleased sound you made at the touch.

“H-Hongjoong… did Seonghwa- ah Hwa- tell you about…” You trailed off, eyelids getting heavy the more you relaxed in his embrace. He nodded. “S-so you know how much this means to me?” “I do, Firecracker. And he told you how things work, and his unofficial invitation?” When you nodded, his hand tightened in your hair enough to pull an unexpected moan from your lips. “I’m going to take how pliant you are in my arms as an acceptance of that if you keep this up. Wooyoung might be the most vocal about his desire for you, but I feel it just as intensely.” Your hands gripped his tank tightly, lips parted as you enjoyed the way he was getting a bit rough with your hair. Massage, then tug. Smooth then tug harder. “Then why pull me onto your lap?” “To treasure you, though I didn’t think you would let me.” He admitted, shifting you on his thighs a bit until you could feel his hard on against the side of your thigh. “Yeosang is going to get another show at this rate.” Laughing under your breath softly, you shifted on his lap. “Good. I’m not too happy about him telling you all about San and Chan. He likes to watch and then run his mouth to you all? I should show him what he’s going to miss because he’s always hiding behind those screens.” Detaching yourself from Hongjoong, you stood back up between his legs, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders to card your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck, just under the cap. Latching your lips onto his to keep him from questioning you, your mind wandered to Yeosang and the expressions he made when he had been watching you and Wooyoung. Would he make those now? Better yet… What expressions would Hongjoong make?

With your lips still attached, brushing over his soft ones, letting him chase yours with each stroke, your hands ran down his chest. His shirt stuck to him with damp sweat, muscles tensing under your fingertips: first over his pecs, which had a nice curve to them, and then over his stomach. The lower they got, the more desperate his lips on yours.

The sound he made, the breathy whine as you cupped his sizable bulge in his shorts, turned you on even more. So eager to see just how far you could push him.

In a way, this was your first time initiating with them. As you slipped down onto your knees, palming at his hardening cock through the material of his shorts, you acknowledged the fact he hadn’t asked for this, or done much to make you want him: you just wanted him, and wanted to do this. Wooyoung had begged and begged. And Mingi had wanted to prove to you how much he wanted you. You just let them have the opportunity, reaping the ecstasy they gave you. And as much as you loved taking what they had to offer, you wanted to give back as well. In particular to the man before you. The man who was trying so hard not to pull your hair too much. Who was gripping the seat beneath him as his hips rolled up into your hands, pretty lips parted and swallowed from your kisses.

If Hongjoong had turned you away, or tried to block you at every turn like you had expected him to do before meeting him, you wouldn’t have this growing warmth in your heart at every thought of them. The swell of pride at your ongoing work. You wouldn’t have a confidant in San and Seonghwa. Wouldn’t have the eager lovers Wooyoung and Mingi. The witty banter of Yunho and Yeosang.

And perhaps, pressing your lips to where you could feel his tip twitching beneath the material, you wanted to convince them that they had to have you, just as you had to have them.

Selfish, greedy, maybe a little manipulative: that’s what you thought of yourself as you pulled his shorts down enough to expose his cock, staring up at him with a question in your eyes. 

Maybe you were all those things, but it was worth it as he tightened his hold on your strands significantly and pulled you against his cock, smearing the bit of precum and sweat on your lips and cheek, pleading with you. “Take what you want, gorgeous, I’m yours to use.”

How could you deny him- deny yourself- when he looked so delectable like this? 

Taking the invitation for what it was, your tongue ran up his length as your hands worked his pants down further. His words rang in your head, the adoration mixed with lust in his expression adding to the pit of emotions coursing through you.

With your lips wrapping around his tip, eyes focused on his expression, you marveled at the warm metal now clicking against your teeth. Quickly you pulled away and glanced down, breath hitching at the metal bar on the underside of his tip, right through the soft flesh in between the twi curves of his hood. “Oh fuck-” Mingi and him? Different places but you could remember how the piercing felt… if you took Hongjoong inside, you’d feel the metal scraping against your walls and the thought had you dripping in your underwear.

Wanting him to want that just as much, you took him back in your mouth, humming as you quickly took as much of him as you could. His eyes rolled back momentarily, breath hitching and fingers curling in your hair. He could fuck your mouth right now and you’d let him.

You’d let him do a lot of things if he continued to let out sweet whines like the one that just fell from his pretty lips. He wasn’t small, but definitely not Mingi’s size. But Hongjoong never needed size to get his point across, or for you to notice him- there was much more about him and the man utilized that to command a room and gain a grip on anyone he wished. 

Right now you were the one in his grip, both figuratively and literally, as you pushed his shorts down and spread his thighs wider. Shuffling a bit closer, you took more of him in, humming around his cock once more as it hit the back of your throat, nose so close to his pelvis, but you managed. The sweat didn’t bother you, neither did the feel of the hard floor under your knees, not when he seemed to be unraveling at your touch. You were enjoying him so much you swore you could suck him off for hours without a reprieve. So what if your throat was sore? If you were tasting his cum and sweat for hours after with every drink and food you devoured? Pressing your tongue up as you pulled off his length, sure to add even more pressure to the piercing and was rewarded with a whiny moan as his body reacted: hips bucking and hand tightening in your hair to hold you still.

Oh so it made him sensitive?

Bobbing your head back down, taking as much of his length as you felt comfortable with, you focused more attention on his tip. Every time you pulled away you added pressure, letting your teeth scrape against it or twisting your head just enough as you pushed back down.

Hongjoong was noisy, between high pitched pants, to low curses under his breath, his fingers in your hair a give away to what he liked best. You used that to your advantage, nails digging into the inside of his thighs when you realized he liked that.

“Ah- fuck- gorgeous- Gunna make me- mmm fuck fuck~” His head kept rolling back but he would push forward to watch you as much as he could, mouth hanging open, teeth clenching in little hisses of pleasure. You hummed and moaned around his cock, picking up pace and pressure as your own need was clouding your thoughts. Have him cum first then maybe you could convince him to fuck you in the showers.

Your nails dug into his thighs more when he started pushing you, just slightly as if guiding, down on his cock. His head rolled back again, moans gaining volume as your name and praise joined the sweet sounds.

In awe of him you nearly choked when his thick cum hit the back of your throat in spurts. You pushed away a bit, lips still latched onto his twitching tip as he emptied his pretty balls on your tongue.

He lifted his head once he was spent, panting heavily and meeting your gaze. He slipped out of your mouth with a loud pop, your tongue lolling out to show the bit of cum still pooled there before you made a show of swallowing it.

“Fuck, Firecracker… I didn’t expect you to do this.” He smoothed out your hair, your scalp a little sensitive from how hard his grip had been.

Smiling, you rested your head on the inside of his knee, smoothing over the crescent marks you had made with your nails and admiring the piercing on his softening cock. “I wanted to. Wanted to show I want you too. I know I wasn’t as… vocal about it. Maybe with work but not in this way.” You tilted your head to look up at him, licking your lips and still tasting him on them. “If you have time… would the showers be private enough? I think Yeosang got enough of a show.” He chuckled, pushing the hair out of your face before gently tapping your cheek. “I should. Stand up for me?” 

Once you did you watched as he pulled up his underwear and shorts. Now you had a moment to admire the work on his arm, you liked learning about them and most people got tattoos that represented a part of them. Plus, tattoos were big in the underworld, often a way to show your rank or who you belonged to.

You noted a few portraits, black rimmed hats and masks, the eyes sharp. There were eight, you counted, surrounded by waves with… with a pirate boat detailed on the upper part of his arm. 

He called your name, moving just as you took note of a few letters on his arm. Sex was no longer on your mind, your brow furrowed as your mouth fell open to speak the first question that formed instead.

But the words were overshadowed by an alarm ringing through the gym and Hongjoong cursing. “Fuck- there’s an emergency.” He quickly pecked your cheek. “Head back to your apartment and wait for a call? I’ll let you know when everything’s okay.” He started grabbing his other things, but you were in shock.

The alarm turned off once he was gone but you were still rooted in place.

From the letters you had been able to make out, two of them had been “B” and “P”, just like Mingi had. 

Were they part of the Black Pirates? Were they… the enemy?

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

A/N: 🚨🚨 Lobotomy Kaisen: Bootleg K-Drama Edition 🚨🚨 At this point, I am single-handedly running a low-budget, emotionally devastating K-drama, funded by ₩5 & the spare serotonin I found when my cat smacked me. This chapter? Peak “second lead deserved better” energy. If you squint (or are sadistic), our Nanago girlies are feasting tonight. To my loyal readers who send comments/messages—y’all are the reason this fic is still breathing. I had fully lost hope in this series bcs I thought no one wanted to read it anymore, & I had the worst writers block ever, but here we are, back from the grave. Small confession: I proofread this while high on my sleep meds (calm down, it’s all prescribed—ya girl’s got Olympic-level insomnia). So, if some bits feel like I hijacked my own fic mid-scene or if a random paragraph hits like Whiplash—congrats, you’ve found one of my self-inflicted plot derailments. Think of it as an Easter egg hunt: Find the bits that are just me roasting my own writing and/or hating on the men shamelessly. Bonus points if you guess which parts were written before vs. after I started hallucinating colors with smells. Don’t worry, next updates will be soon—turns out being delirious is my peak creative state because now I have too many ideas for my hands to be able to write before detaching themselves from me & asking for labor law rights. Now, let’s dive into this delicious dumpster fire. 🔥

Previous Chapter 15 (alt ending 2.6) - Ibiza (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 16 (alt ending 2.7) - Placeholder: This Should Have Been Love

Few Years Ago: Before Realizing

The Golden Era of Group Chats (Before You Ruined Everything)

Group Chat: Gohoe & his pimps 🏴‍☠️📜🍷

(Created by Hentai Kakashi. The name changed hourly. Nanami kept changing it back to ‘No.’)

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: Did you eat?

You: Yes.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: PROVE IT.

You: ??

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: SEND A PIC or it didn’t happs.

His English was still bad.

You: This is weird.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: Stop entertaining him.

After a while of staging an “accidental” run-in with you that day, the men had to return home—not because they wanted to, but because Yaga was dangerously close to storming in and dragging them back to Japan by their ears. Nanami reluctantly dragged Gojo away, though the latter’s protests were loud enough to echo through the entire airport. You promised to stay in touch, waving them off with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Surely, they’d have someone back home—someone more suited to their chaotic, high-stakes lives. And after all the harmless flirting, they’d forget about you once they got back to fighting curses and dealing with the endless drama of the Jujutsu world.

But they didn’t.

Instead, they texted. Whenever they had time. And you replied whenever you had time. It started out fine. Normal, even.

The time zones made it tricky, but you’d figured out a system. Calls were rare—Nanami refused to let you stay up past midnight, and Gojo somehow always picked the worst possible times—but texting was manageable.

The group chat, though, was a disaster.

It existed mostly as a place to roast Gojo. He’d been banned from sending voice notes after holding down the button and belting out an entire off-key rendition of Smooth Operator with his cute English. Nanami only typed in full sentences, like an exasperated father monitoring his delinquent child. And you? You contributed memes, the occasional insult, and once a video of Megumi’s dogs destroying your latest gaming console prototype, which made Nanami send a single, ominous, "That was preventable."

Sometimes, Gojo’s texts were absolute nonsense:

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: If I die, tell everyone I was hot and mysterious.

You: No one thought you were mysterious.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: No one thought you were hot either.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: YOU KNOW WHAT. BOTH OF YOU ARE BLOCKED.

Or completely deranged:

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: What if we kissed but also you let me name your next game protagonist?

You: Oh no.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: Don’t engage.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: Come onnnn 😚 I already have names picked out:

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: 1. DomainDripLord

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: 2. SixEyesSnipes

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: 3. xX_LimitlessCarryGod_Xx

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: 4. InfinityFlexxer

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: 5. HollowPurplePapi

You: No one is calling you Papi, freak. Kento, please install parental control in his phone; he’s spending too much time with 14-year-olds.

Nanami’s texts were, as expected, normal and adult-like in comparison:

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: I read an article about the burnout in the gaming industry today. Are you facing similar challenges?

You: Yeah. Work’s been exhausting.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: Take a break.

You: Wow. I didn’t think of that. Thanks, genius.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: …

And yet, sometimes, he too could be unhinged:

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: Gojo is currently attempting to cook.

You: Oh god.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: WHO SAID I COULDN’T??

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: The smoke alarm.

You: I just saw a guy at the store that looked exactly like a younger version of Kento.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: OH MY GOD BABY NANAMIN?? WAS HE WEARING A SUIT???

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: I am blocking both of you.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: [Image Attached: a blurry zoom-in of some random salaryman in a tan suit.]

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: NANAMI IS THIS YOUR SECRET SON???

You: DNA TEST WHEN?

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: You are both insufferable.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: THAT'S NOT A NO.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: [Nanami has left the chat.]

You: LMFAOOOO HE LEFT.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: He’ll come back. He always does.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: [Nanami has rejoined the chat.]

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: If either of you texts before 6 AM again, I will make sure you regret it.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: SEE?? HE CAN’T STAY AWAY.

You: Stockholm syndrome, honestly.

Daddy Blade🗼⛓️: It is not Stockholm syndrome. It is suffering.

But beyond the chaos of the group chat, real conversations happened in private messages.

Gojo was an unpredictable texter. Sometimes he’d disappear for days, only to spam you with a series of completely unrelated messages at three in the morning.

03:03 AM

Hentai Kakashi: Hey. R u up?

03:07 AM

Hentai Kakashi: No wait. Sleep. Nanamin will kill me if he finds out I woke u up. Again.

03:09 AM

Hentai Kakashi: But like. If u are awake. I had a nightmare. It was about… ducks. A whole army of them. Staring. Judging. I think I have enemies in the bird community.

03:15 AM

Hentai Kakashi: …Ok I’ll stop now. Goodnight.

03:16 AM

Hentai Kakashi: But if u wake up and see this, pls validate me. Ducks are scary.

Nanami, on the other hand, texted with the precision of a man writing formal emails even when sleep-deprived.

07:30 AM

Tax Evasion Daddy: Good morning.

07:32 AM

Tax Evasion Daddy: I assume you are still asleep. That is good. Sleep is important.

07:45 AM

Tax Evasion Daddy: When you wake up, let me know if you need anything.

09:14 AM

Tax Evasion Daddy: I received an alert about a financial transaction on your account. Did you just spend an unreasonable amount of money on coffee and, if so, was it necessary?

09:16 AM

Tax Evasion Daddy: Never mind. That was a redundant question. Of course it was not necessary.

09:17 AM

Tax Evasion Daddy: I am not controlling your finances, but I am concerned about your caffeine intake.

09:45 AM

Tax Evasion Daddy: I hope you had breakfast.

10:00 AM

You: How'd you get my spending details??? 💀 

But beyond the chaos, beneath all the sarcasm and petty fights, something real lingered in their messages.

Even in the absurdity of Gojo’s 3 AM texts, even in Nanami’s overly formal check-ins.

They weren’t just texting because they were bored.

And neither were you.

It should have been frustrating, but it wasn’t.

You started checking your phone between meetings, expecting their names to pop up. You caught yourself laughing at one of Gojo’s ridiculous voice messages. You reread Nanami’s texts at night, the weight of his words lingering long after you put your phone down.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what this meant.

And that was the problem.

Because you’d never let yourself want something like this.

So you did what you always did when something felt too big, too complicated. You ran.

Not literally. Not yet.

But you started responding less. You claimed you were busy—which wasn’t even a lie, just a convenient excuse. You let calls go to voicemail. The group chat became an unread notification you swiped away without a second thought.

It didn’t take them long to notice.

Gojo was the first to call you out.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: You hate us now??? damn. Guess I'll go die in a ditch.

Sensei Slay☀️🦕: Or maybe you just love Nanamin more than me. Understandable. Tragic. But understandable.

Nanami’s response was quieter. Less obvious.

Sassy Daddy🗼⛓️: You’ve been distant. Is something wrong?

You stared at both messages for a long time, your thumb hovering over the screen. Then, because you were a coward, you pretended you never saw them.

Then the first time you ignored Gojo’s call, it was easy. A swipe of your finger, a breath held just long enough to pretend you didn’t see his name flash across your screen. The second time, Nanami called, and you let it ring until the silence settled into something heavier than guilt. By the fifth time, you started putting your phone on Do Not Disturb, convincing yourself it was because of work—because you were a trillionaire CEO with a company to run, not because your heart clenched every time you saw their names. Not because you felt like an idiot for wanting two men when you swore you’d never be the kind of person who couldn’t make a decision.

So you disappeared—not physically, not yet, but in the ways that mattered. Texts went unanswered, YouTube videos met with professional coldness. When Gojo sent a selfie of himself eating cake, whining about missing you, you left him on read. When Nanami sent a curt message asking if you were alright, you typed out a response—I’m fine, just busy—and stared at it for a full minute before deleting it.

You didn’t expect them to let it slide forever. But you didn’t expect them to show up, either.

It didn’t work.

Because two special-grade sorcerers were not the kind of men who let things go.

And the next time you walked into your office, sleep-deprived and convinced you’d successfully avoided your feelings, you found them both waiting for you.

Gojo was stretched out in your chair, his long legs propped up on your desk, sunglasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. Nanami stood beside him, arms crossed, his sharp gaze cutting through you like he’d already run out of patience.

You stopped in your tracks, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Surprise Sweetheart” Gojo drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to look at you.

Nanami didn’t smile. His voice was low, steady, and impossibly soft. “We need to talk.”

The jet lands before dawn. You didn’t know that, of course, not yet. You didn’t know that Gojo and Nanami spent the entire flight arguing about whether to ambush you at work or at home. (Nanami, of course, thought home was the better choice—less spectacle, less drama. Gojo, being Gojo, argued that spectacle and drama were necessary.)

You stopped dead.

Gojo grinned. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t our favorite CEO. What’s the matter, sweetheart? Forgot how to text?”

Nanami’s voice cut through, calm but firm. “We’re not here to play games. You’ve been avoiding us.”

Your throat went dry. “I’ve been busy.”

Your fingers twitched against your phone, a fight-or-flight response that neither of them would let you act on. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

Nanami exhaled, slow and measured, like he was holding back a lecture. “We should be asking you that.”

You rolled your eyes, keeping your face carefully neutral. “I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting—”

“Canceled,” Gojo interrupted, leaning back in your chair with a grin that was far too smug for your liking. “Something about an emergency security issue? Wow, wonder who could’ve arranged that.”

You stared at him, your mouth parting in disbelief. “You—”

Nanami stepped in before you could finish. “You’ve been ignoring us,” he said, his voice steady, but there was an edge to it now, something dangerously close to frustration. “Avoiding us.”

You scoffed, looking anywhere but at them. “I’ve been busy.”

Gojo hummed, the sound low and teasing. “Busy running away?”

“Busy working,” you snapped, though the words felt hollow even as they left your mouth.

“Right,” Gojo drawled, his tone dripping with skepticism. “And we’re supposed to believe that?”

“I don’t really care what you believe,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest in a feeble attempt to shield yourself.

Nanami’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing just enough to make your stomach twist. “Then say it.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Say what?”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm, amusement flickering across his face like he already knew the answer. “Say that you don’t have feelings for us. That’s why you’re avoiding us, right? Because you don’t care?”

Your stomach dropped. You hated how easy it was for them to see through you. Hated that your usual defenses crumbled the moment they stepped into the same room. Hated that they could strip you bare with nothing but a look and a few well-placed words.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to join Kurt Cobain if you jumped from this height.

You forced a too loud laugh, the sound brittle and unconvincing. “That’s ridiculous.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. Gojo just tilted his head, watching you too closely, his piercing blue eyes cutting through every lie you tried to tell yourself.

“Then look me in the eyes and say it,” Gojo murmured, his voice soft but commanding.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, until Nanami finally broke it. “That’s what I thought,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something that sounded almost like relief, but he was smirking too smugly for your liking.

Your throat tightened, your chest aching with the weight of everything you’d been trying to avoid. You wanted to argue, to deny it, to slip out of this conversation like you’d slipped out of their reach for weeks. But you couldn’t. Not when they were standing in front of you, not when the weight of your own feelings had finally caught up.

Gojo sighed, but for once, there was no teasing in his voice. Just something softer, something real. “You don’t have to pick, you know.”

That finally did it. Eighty-four floors were more than enough. “Kurt, please wait for me,” you thought.

Your breath was caught, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure they could hear it.

Nanami nodded, his expression softening just enough to make your chest ache. “We already decided. It’s the three of us. Not one or the other.”

The words hit harder than they should have. You’d spent weeks convincing yourself that loving them both was impossible, selfish, an equation that couldn’t be solved. But here they were, standing in front of you, telling you that the answer had always been simple.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your desk like it was the only thing keeping you upright. “You’re both so dorky,” you muttered, your voice hoarse.

Gojo laughed, the sound bright and triumphant. “Yeah, but we’re your dorks.”

Nanami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting this entire conversation. “Don’t encourage him.”

But there was relief in his voice. A quiet kind of victory.

And for the first time in weeks, you let yourself breathe.

---

Present Day

But that was before you fully let yourself fall for them, before you started having fleeting thoughts of a life with them—of lazy mornings tangled in sheets, of quiet evenings where their laughter filled the spaces between your heartbeats. Before you let yourself imagine what it would be like to belong to them, completely and irrevocably.

But now,

There was a line—an invisible, aching thing stretching between you and them. You weren’t sure when it had started forming, but you knew where it ended.

Right here.

Right now.

At the mall, with Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento trailing behind you, whispering like you couldn’t hear them.

Something something mania.

You didn’t care to listen. You had other priorities—like replacing your third shattered phone this month and reclaiming some semblance of independence. For how long were you supposed to keep hijacking Nanami’s phone like a child? How long were you supposed to pretend that this was normal? That you were normal?

You reached the phone store, found the model you liked, and walked straight up to the support counter, waving a salesperson over.

“I like this one,” you said, your voice even, though your chest felt like it was cracking open. “Can you get me a higher storage version?”

The salesman smiled, nodding. “Great choice. Very privacy-forward. I’m sure we have what you need.”

He stepped away to grab the phone, and you exhaled slowly, rubbing your palm against the swell of your stomach. Six months. Six months of waiting, of watching them orbit each other like you were an afterthought.

A prisoner, not a partner.

The salesman returned, holding up the upgraded model. “This should work. Anything else?”

“Yes.” You reached for the box, your fingers brushing against the cool surface. “I’ll take two. And two SIM cards. One of them will pay.” You gestured vaguely toward Gojo and Nanami, who were still lost in their private discussion, their voices hushed but not enough.

“She’s spiraling, Kento.”

“She’s grieving, Satoru.”

“She’s—”

They stopped when they noticed the way the salesman was staring at them, waiting.

For a second, they looked like deer in headlights.

Then, resigned, Gojo fumbled for his card, barely looking at the total. Nanami sighed, shoulders tense, running a hand down his face. They weren’t paying attention. They never paid attention.

You took the chance to test the new phone’s camera, snapping a few selfies to see if the quality was worth the price. Another salesperson handed you an unopened box of the same variant, and you thanked them quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

At the counter, Gojo fumbled with his card, absentmindedly agreeing to every add-on the salesperson suggested. He was too busy arguing with Nanami—about you, about how you were “going insane,” about how they needed to “handle this.”

Behind you, a girl—one of the employees—perked up, her eyes widening as she stared at Gojo.

“Wait… are you Gojo?”

Gojo turned, slow as death, his sunglasses sliding down his nose just enough to reveal the sharp glint of his eyes. Nanami stiffened beside him, his hand twitching like he was ready to grab you and bolt.

You didn’t even blink, already typing out a message to Haibara. The girl’s voice was background noise, an annoyance you didn’t have the energy to acknowledge.

But she wasn’t deterred. “I saw you guys on TV. You’re, like… so strong.”

You felt Gojo gesturing—probably for her to shut the fuck up—but it was too late. The damage was done.

You turned slowly, your expression blank, your voice flat. “Yes,” you said, cutting through the awkward tension like a knife. “They are them. You can have them if you like.”

The girl’s blush deepened, her hands fluttering nervously. “Oh, no, I—”

“But don’t get too attached.” You tilted your head, smiling too sharp, too cold. “They’re only out until their surrogate wife’s babies are born. Then they’re going back to jail.”

Behind you, Gojo exhaled sharply. Nanami tensed, his jaw tightening as he stared at the floor like it might swallow him whole. The male salesman—who had been ringing up your order—looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“…I just wanted to know how they’re so strong,” the girl mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled again. Fake. Strained. Hollow.

“Sure you did.”

A long silence stretched out, thick with something unnamed. The air in the store felt heavier, the fluorescent lights too bright, the hum of the AC too loud.

By the time the transaction was complete, the energy in the store had shifted. The male salesman was glaring at his co-worker like she’d nearly cost him his commission.

You didn’t care. You took the bag and walked out, your steps quick and deliberate, straight toward the next store.

You picked up some photography accessories, shooting a death glare at any male salesman who dared approach you, ready to mansplain his way into a commission. You didn’t need to listen to some mediocre Instagram photographer explain something you’d been doing nearly all your life. (Okay, fine, maybe you were projecting your anger onto innocent retail workers instead of your husbands, but in your defense, this wasn’t about them.)

A light, a few backdrops, a tripod—whatever you needed, you already knew which ones you wanted. The motions were mechanical, your mind elsewhere, your body moving on autopilot like a sleep-deprived robot with a shopping list.

The salesman handed you the receipt, and you took it without a word, your hands trembling slightly as you shoved it into your bag. You didn’t look at Gojo or Nanami as you turned and walked away, your steps quick and deliberate.

Then, before you knew it, you were being dragged toward the Mommy & Me stores.

And the walls started closing in again.

Gojo and Nanami flanked you, their voices low but insistent, cutting through the haze of your thoughts like knives.

“You need to rest,” Nanami said, his tone firm but distant, like he was speaking to a stranger—like he hadn’t spent the last six months auctioning off your bed, your life, your body.

“You’re overdoing it,” Gojo added, his usual teasing replaced by something sharper, something that felt too much like concern. It was the kind of concern that made your skin crawl, the kind that felt less like care and more like control.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Not when your chest felt like it was cracking open, not when every step felt like a battle you were losing.

The store was a blur of pastel colors and soft fabrics, a world that felt so far removed from the chaos in your mind. You stared at the tiny clothes, the cribs, the stuffed animals, and felt nothing.

Nothing but the weight of the twins growing inside you.

Nothing but the ache in your chest, the hollow emptiness that no amount of baby clothes or nursery decor could fill.

Nothing but the crushing realization that the men beside you—the fathers of your children—saw you as a problem to be managed, not a person.

You were drowning, and they were too busy arguing about the water to notice.

The baby store smelled of lavender and plastic, a cloying mix of nostalgia and artificial newness. You stood between Gojo and Nanami, one hand pressed absently to your belly, the other gripping the handle of the shopping cart as they debated the necessity of a wipe warmer.

“I’m just saying, if we’re going all out, we might as well,” Gojo mused, flipping the box over to read the specs like it was a tactical decision. “Imagine tiny little butts being caressed by warmth.”

Nanami barely glanced at him. “It’s a scam. Babies don’t care about temperature consistency.”

“They don’t care about their own temperature consistency. We, however, should care. What if cold wipes wake them up at night?”

“They’ll be awake anyway.”

You stood between them, a silent observer in your own story. Once, their bickering had been the background noise of your happiest moments. Now, it felt like white noise, like the hum of an appliance left running in a room you were never in.

“Like you both will be there when they need diaper changes,” you snorted, walking ahead, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

They didn’t hear you. Or they did but acted like you were some teenager, best left ignored.

You stared at the row of cribs. White. Mahogany. Scandinavian minimalism. They all blurred together. It wasn’t like they needed your opinion.

“The grey one matches the nursery theme,” Nanami said, nodding toward a sleek, modern crib.

Gojo hummed in agreement. “Yeah. And it’ll look good next to the changing table.”

You hadn’t even talked about it, let alone agreed to a theme. You opened your mouth. Closed it. They had already moved on.

The raccoon’s wardrobe was next—because, of course, they had to take that away from you too.

Gojo held up a tiny hoodie, designed for some bougie suburban dog. “You think the little guy would like this?”

Nanami gave him a long, exhausted stare. “It’s a raccoon.”

Gojo grinned. “Don’t talk about feral rizz like that.”

They shared one of those looks. The kind that made your chest tighten like a wound being pulled shut with the wrong stitches.

You exhaled. Slowly.

Gojo turned to you suddenly, almost like he had just now remembered you were here. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Your hand moved to your belly, a habit, a tether.

“I’m fine,” you said, which was mostly true.

They nodded and went back to discussing the best baby monitor on the market, and you wondered, idly, if they would even notice if you walked out.

You were the one carrying the twins. The reason they were here, picking out soft blankets and pacifiers. But standing there, watching them plan a future with such efficiency, such ease, you couldn’t help but feel like the unnecessary part of a perfectly functional equation.

Like a placeholder.

The baby store faded behind you, swallowed by the artificial glow of the mall’s overhead lights. You walked, your pace measured but unhurried, one hand resting absently on your belly like you were carrying the weight of the world and not just two tiny humans.

They wouldn’t notice you were gone. Not immediately. Maybe not at all.

The food court smelled like salt, grease, and something sweet frying in oil—like nostalgia and poor life choices. It was loud—families arguing over pizza, teenagers screeching over TikTok trends, and the occasional lost businessman tapping furiously on his phone like he was single-handedly saving the economy.

You ordered a burger. No truffle aioli, no organic bullshit, no “let’s elevate this dining experience," no "Darling, you can’t eat Nutella straight from the jar then horde the jar because you are too swollen to move,” no "Pookie, you fart stinky now pregnant,” nonsense—just a plain, greasy burger wrapped in crinkled paper. The cashier looked at your stomach, then at you, and asked if you wanted a second one.

You did.

You sat alone at a table, the kind that wobbled slightly if you leaned the wrong way. The first bite was perfect—warm, messy, real. The kind of real that wasn’t curated, wasn’t planned or debated over like a fucking nursery theme.

You chewed slowly, scrolling through your phone and watching a video of a raccoon stealing a hot dog from a toddler (it may or may not have featured Haibara and your feral son). It was the kind of content that made you feel seen.

Back in the store, Gojo was probably making some ridiculous argument about baby socks needing to be designer. “They’re not just socks, Nanami, they’re a statement,” he’d say, holding up a pair with little Gucci logos on them. Nanami would be exhaling through his nose, just patient enough to entertain it, but you could practically hear the “I’m too old for this” in his silence. Let them argue over wipe warmers and crib aesthetics.

Maybe, at some point, they’d realize you were gone.

Maybe.

But right now, you were just a woman eating a burger. Not a CEO. Not a wife. Not the mother of their children.

Just you.

---

Their POV

Inside the store, Nanami’s phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

He shouldn’t have answered. He knew better. But his instincts told him otherwise, whispered that it could be Ino, that it could be someone from the higher-ups.

So he pressed accept.

A low chuckle slithered through the receiver, slow, deliberate. Unfamiliar. Familiar.

"Wow. You’re dumber than I thought."

His spine went rigid. “Who is this?”

"Aww, you forgot about me so easily after our wild night together, handsome?" The voice was all honeyed amusement, saccharine and sharp, like the taste of something spoiled.

“I'm loyal and I don't have time for your pranks. Good day.”

"You sound tense. Something wrong? Lose something?"

Nanami turned sharply. Gojo was still there. He was eyeing some godforsaken breastfeeding couch, muttering about comfort and lumbar support like the idiot he was.

But you—

His breath stalled.

"Where is she?" Nanami’s voice tore through the store, rough, unhinged, barely human.

Heads turned. Parents stared. A mother clutched her toddler closer.

Gojo twisted, the lazy slouch of his shoulders snapping into attention. His head swiveled. His Six Eyes darting around instantly.

But you weren’t there.

You weren’t in the aisle.

You weren’t anywhere.

He couldn’t feel you.

Not the cursed energy from your womb. Not the subtle pulse of your presence that had been second nature now.

Gone.

Nanami was still yelling, his grip on the phone so tight his knuckles blanched. “Who are you? If you think you can take her without consequences, I will personally cut your body into so many pieces your people won’t even recognize you.”

"Aww, so romantic." The voice practically purred. "Finally, you’re respecting your one true archnemesis."

The air thinned.

His stomach dropped.

"What do you want, Haibara?" His voice was deathly quiet.

"Me? Nothing." A pause, languid, mocking. Then, smooth as silk, Haibara added, "but the rest of the world wants your wife."

Nanami’s breath left him. Gojo came over, his face pale, his Six Eyes scanning the store like he could will you back into existence. Nanami turned to him, his fingers going numb around the phone as he lowered the volume and fumbled to put it on speaker.

"She’s got a bounty, Kento-dono." Haibara’s voice was light, almost lazy, but the weight of his words suffocated. "Crisp five hundred billion dollars. Do you know how many zeros are in that?" A chuckle. "Last I checked, quite a few. If you don’t know why, then ask your other idiot; he’ll know what bounty means on babies' heads."

Cursed twins.

A rare commodity.

Of course, it made sense.

Nanami’s grip on his phone shook. His vision blurred.

Gojo’s panic flickered white-hot, burning through the confusion, through the nausea curling in his stomach. His hand clenched at his side, his jaw tight enough to shatter teeth.

He knew what was happening. He'd had the same bounty on his head when he was born too.

"I called to let you know about the bounty on her head, and because I know you lost her again," Haibara continued, voice amused. "Thought maybe you two morons should keep a better eye on her. She keeps running off, and two Special Grades can’t even keep a regular non-sorcerer pregnant woman in check?"

Nanami couldn’t breathe.

“She was—she was just here.” Gojo’s voice was thin, like he was trying to convince himself, like if he just said it enough, reality would bend and you would be back, glaring at them, rolling your eyes, safe.

But you weren’t here.

You weren’t anywhere.

"How do you know we lost her?" Nanami’s voice was barely controlled. Feral. "Do you have her with you?"

"Nope." Haibara popped the ‘p’ like this was a joke. "I’m just better at keeping an eye on her. Even when I’m away. Maybe I should’ve had the Six Eyes." He laughed.

Gojo twitched.

"Just tell us where she is," Nanami ground out, the blood roaring in his ears. "I don’t have time for your buffoonery."

"Oh? Do you need me to throw out the trash too? Wipe your bum while I’m at it?"

Gojo’s fists trembled. The tips of his fingers burned.

He needed to find you. Now.

"How long has the bounty been up?" His voice was eerily calm. The storm before the end.

"Dunno," Haibara hummed. "Fifteen minutes, maybe? But assassins are already bidding. Thought you would’ve figured it out by now."

Fifteen minutes.

That was eternities in their world.

Gojo felt sick.

Haibara sighed, almost disappointed. "Guess you two have been distracted. By diapers. By a future you both don’t even get to have with her."

Nanami felt something in his chest crack.

Gojo didn’t blink. His head pounded. His throat closed up.

A beat. "Don’t worry. I’ll wipe her tears when you both are sent to jail. Never even having held your kids."

The call ended.

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick like tar, pressing down on them until it felt like they couldn’t breathe.

Nanami’s pulse thundered, but his body felt numb, like the blood in his veins had turned to ice.

Gojo exhaled slowly. Too controlled. Too blank. Not real.

“We don’t tell her.”

Nanami swallowed, but the bile clung to his tongue.

“No.”

Gojo turned in a full circle, his Six Eyes scanning the store with a desperation that made his chest ache.

“She was right here,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

He looked at the empty space where you should have been, where you had been just moments ago. His hands clenched at his sides, fingernails cutting into his palms. She was right here.

He took another step, eyes darting across the store. His breath was sharp, shallow, desperate.

Nanami was already scanning the store, his fingers flexing at his side. Too rigid. Too restrained. His heartbeat drummed against his ribs. Fitting rooms. Entrances. Exits. Every possibility turned over in his mind, methodical even as panic curled around the edges of his thoughts.

"Check the fitting rooms. I’ll check outside."

“No.”

Gojo’s voice was a blade, cutting through the air. His fingers flicked up, Six Eyes burning. His sunglasses were already gone, abandoned, shoved into his pocket like an afterthought.

A pause. A breath.

Nothing.

“I don’t see her.”

Nanami froze.

If Gojo couldn’t see you, it meant you weren’t just a few aisles away, not lingering by the checkout line, not waiting by the bathroom. It meant you were gone.

Mall security was useless. The intercom announcements, the slow, confused clerks asking what you were wearing, asking if they had a recent photo. As if they needed to describe you.

You wouldn’t just leave.

Nanami’s jaw locked. “She wouldn’t just leave.” His voice was tight, forced through clenched teeth. “Would she?”

Gojo’s hands curled into fists. His breath stuttered.

“She’s six months pregnant, Kento.” His voice was hoarse, like the words scraped against his throat. “She wouldn’t just—” His breath hitched. “Unless we made her feel like she had to.”

The thought hit them both at the same time.

The way you had been quiet lately. Not in your usual, calculating way. Not the way you went silent before striking a deal or winning an argument. But distant.

The way you let them pay for everything, when you were the kind of woman who once bought entire companies just to prove a point.

The way you had stood there, hands on your belly, as they planned a life around you, but never with you.

Gojo was pacing, running a hand through his hair like he wanted to tear it out. The sight did nothing to calm the sick feeling creeping up Nanami’s throat.

Nanami swore under his breath. “We’re fucking idiots.”

Gojo was already moving.

Three minutes.

Two of them wasted on panic.

On scanning every store, every floor.

On his mind spinning through the worst possibilities.

What if someone had found you first?

What if they never—

Then—

On the corner of the tenth floor, in a wheelchair, there you were.

Eyes closed.

They were near you in an instant, but Gojo ran faster than Nanami, something frantic in his movements, like he was reliving a childhood memory he’d buried deep. He appeared next to you, his hands trembling as he pulled you close, his voice breaking as he spoke.

“Hey, why—hey, wake up!” he said frantically, his hands cupping your face, slapping your cheeks lightly as if trying to rouse you from a nightmare.

But before Nanami could check your pulse or shush Gojo, you blinked blearily, your voice soft and groggy. “Ahh. I just fell asleep. Let me go.” You tried to shove Gojo away, but your voice came out pleading, more vulnerable than you wanted it to be. You got up, only to realize he wasn’t letting go, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid you’d vanish again.

---

Your POV

And he did. He held you close, the way he used to before he’d taken everything into his hands and ruined it. His grip was desperate, his breath uneven against your hair, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into it. Not because you wanted to, but because you could feel the fear radiating off him, the way his hands shook as they pressed into your back.

You didn’t know what was going on, but you were going to enjoy their suffering.

“Why’d you run off?” Nanami asked, his voice low but strained, like he was holding back a storm. “If you were tired, you could’ve said so.”

When you didn’t respond, Nanami assumed the worst, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Gojo. Gojo, ever the one to voice the unspoken, broke the hug to look at you, his hands still gripping your shoulders like he thought you might bolt.

“You were trying to run away and got tired, so you fell asleep?” he asked, his voice cracking at the edges.

Nanami’s eyes looked pained, his usual composure slipping as he stared at you, waiting for an answer you weren’t ready to give.

"Are you insane?" Gojo’s voice was sharp, almost shaking.

“You’re pregnant. You don’t just—” He exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his forehead like it physically hurt to process what was happening.

You pointed at the food court like a scolded child, your expression blank.

Gojo’s laugh was choked. A breathy, broken sound.

"A fucking burger, sweetheart? You ditched us for a burger?"

You didn’t look at them.

Now, they were the ones feeling invisible.

“Why were you sitting on a wheelchair? It’s not our fault to be worried,” Nanami said, his voice rising slightly, the frustration bleeding through.

You shrugged, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t know, Kento. You didn’t put enough chairs in the mall anticipating my arrival. How callous of you.”

The insult sounded weak even to your own ears, but you still turned and walked away like it made perfect sense.

---

You had fought.

You had screamed yourself hoarse in a parking lot, your voice cracking on every expletive, every demand.

You had taken a step back, your pulse pounding. “I’m driving.”

Nanami’s voice was low, firm.

“No, you’re not.”

Something inside you snapped.

“You’re not my fucking babysitters.”

Gojo didn’t flinch, didn’t meet your eyes. “We know.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “Then why the hell are you treating me like a goddamn child?”

Nanami’s head tilted, his gaze sharp. “Do you know how fast you were driving earlier?”

You set your jaw. “I didn’t crash.”

“Yet.”

The word cut deeper than you expected.

"You’re not fucking serious."

"You’re not actually banning me from driving—"

"Like I’m some delicate little—!"

But they wouldn’t budge.

Nanami’s jaw was set, unmovable, his hands clenched at his sides. Gojo wouldn’t even engage, wouldn’t throw the usual “aww, sweetheart, don’t be mad at us” line your way.

They had already decided.

You hadn’t mattered in that decision.

Gojo had tried to coax at first. Soft words, gentle hands reaching for yours. You had slapped them away.

Then, Nanami snapped.

"You almost killed them."

The weight of it hit your chest, something hot and tight and suffocating.

You wanted to argue, to scream, to rip the keys out of Gojo’s hand and prove them wrong.

But Nanami’s eyes pinned you in place.

Gojo, usually so quick to defuse things, said nothing.

Neither of them would budge.

The world felt smaller.

Like a trap had been laid around you before you even realized it.

And when Nanami exhaled, his eyes flickering over your face, his voice softened.

“Get in the car.”

The parking lot was suddenly too quiet.

Nanami was breathing hard, like he had forced the words out against his will. His fingers flexed, curled, dug into his palms like he was holding something back.

Gojo wasn’t looking at either of you. His lips parted, then shut. Like there was nothing to say that could fix this.

And maybe there wasn’t.

Because the worst part?

They were right.

You had driven too fast. Too reckless. Like you had something to outrun.

And now?

They were overcorrecting.

The leash tightening.

And you could do nothing but choke on it.

They didn’t let you drive.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

You reached for the passenger’s side door, but Nanami was already there, his hand closing over your wrist with careful, deliberate restraint. No force, no brute strength—just quiet, unshakable control.

"The back seat," he said.

Not the passenger seat.

The backseat.

Not a request. Not a suggestion.

A verdict.

Nanami opened the back door for you, his face impassive, too neutral. That dangerous stillness he fell into when he was hiding something, when he was choosing his words carefully, when he thought you were too fragile or volatile.

Gojo didn’t crack a joke. Didn’t tease you for looking pissed. Didn’t even flash that usual “baby, trust me” grin.

They didn’t comment on the way your shoulders shook.

Didn’t say a word about the way you turned your face to the window.

Didn’t acknowledge the way you looked, for just a second—

Like you might cry.

Gojo just shut the door after you, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the car like this was normal.

Like you hadn’t spent your entire life steering yourself, controlling the wheel, deciding the speed.

Like you hadn’t spent the last six months fighting to not become a passenger in your own life.

Like you hadn’t been the one navigating the world before they even knew your name.

The car pulled out of the lot in silence.

You stared at the back of Gojo’s head, at the tense line of his shoulders. He wouldn’t even meet your reflection in the rearview mirror.

That sick, crawling feeling in your gut didn’t fade.

You stared out the window, arms crossed over your belly, jaw tight enough to hurt. Your babies shifted inside you. You didn’t know if it was from your tension or theirs.

---

Soon, Jujutsu Tech. loomed ahead, dark and empty, carrying the kind of stillness that only places drenched in death could hold.

"I want to go home," you said, your voice flat, distant, barely concealing the anger burning underneath.

Gojo turned, smiling, but it was wrong. Too thin. It barely touched his eyes.

“We won’t be long, sweetheart.”

A lie.

Nanami’s fingers brushed your wrist. A grounding touch. A silent plea. Maybe an apology.

You stared at his hand like he was touching someone else.

Then they were gone, swallowed by the heavy wooden doors.

You sat there in the locked car, tapping your nails against your phone case, opening and closing an app without reading a single word.

The minutes dragged.

You leaned back against the seat, staring up at the sky.

Inside, something was happening. Something big.

You could tell by the way the air shifted.

By the way the crows in the trees scattered.

---

Their POV

Inside, the air was thick with something rotting.

Not literally—though the higher-ups always carried the stench of old paper and slow decay—but something worse. Something insidious.

Gojo stood loose-limbed, hands in his pockets, head tilted just so. A predator’s angle. Nanami had that look—the one that meant he was already seeing blood.

Across from them, the elders sat in their sunken chairs, bodies swallowed by the deep shadows of the paper screens. Silent spectators to their own machinations.

Nanami spoke first. “How long?”

The head elder blinked, slow and disinterested. “Excuse me?”

“How long,” Nanami repeated, voice even, “have you known about the bounty?”

The elder gave a thin smile. “Since the moment it was placed, of course.”

Gojo laughed, sharp and ugly. “Of course.” He turned to Nanami. “They knew. They sat on it. Probably made bets on how long it would take for us to notice.”

Nanami inhaled slowly. Exhaled. “Why weren’t we told?”

The elder’s sigh was almost theatrical. “Because it was irrelevant.” He tilted his head, birdlike. “If you had been competent enough, you would have realized much sooner.”

Something in Gojo’s expression went blank. Empty in a way that was dangerous. “Right. Because why warn the people actually protecting her, right?”

A second elder, thinner and somehow more cruel, tapped his fingers against the table. “You misunderstand, Satoru.” His voice was soft. “We wanted you to notice.”

The temperature in the room dropped.

Nanami’s fists clenched. “Explain.”

The elder’s smile widened, and when he spoke again, it was with the confidence of a man who had never once feared consequence.

“You should get rid of her.”

Silence.

Then, smooth as poison—

“Your very existence has already increased the world’s cursed energy tenfold. You want us to believe this pregnancy was an accident? That you, the strongest, somehow failed to control your own body?” He clicked his tongue. “How sloppy, Satoru.”

Gojo’s jaw ticked.

The elder leaned forward. “Tell me—what do you think those things will become? Ordinary sorcerers?” A chuckle, dry as old paper. “They’ll be anomalies. Unstable. Stronger than you, in ways even you cannot predict. If they survive.” A pause. “And that is an uncertainty.”

Nanami didn’t move, but something coiled behind his ribs.

“They could die in the womb, you know.” The elder’s voice was almost gentle. “Too much power, too small a vessel. You should be grateful. It would be kinder than what awaits them.”

Gojo’s fingers twitched.

The elder continued, undeterred. “But let’s say they do survive. That you don’t watch them wither from the inside out.” His smile thinned. “What then? You think the world will let them live?”

A long pause.

“We don’t need them.” The elder’s voice turned flat. “We need control.” A tilt of his head. “They would be better off as cursed objects. A weapon to be wielded, rather than something that could one day turn against us.”

He folded his hands.

“You already make things difficult. Why multiply the problem?”

Silence.

Gojo blinked once. Then again, like he hadn’t quite heard.

Nanami—who had spent his entire life perfecting the art of restraint—moved first.

His ratio blade cut through the air, through bone, through everything the elder had been. His head hit the floor with a wet thud.

Gojo followed. No Limitless, no Infinity—just force. His hands closing around the second elder’s throat, his smile sharp, shining.

“Wrong answer.”

It was over in seconds.

No grand battle. No drawn-out screams.

Just work.

The kind of work that left blood in the cracks of your hands and the scent of death in your hair.

Nanami exhaled. Gojo wiped his hands on his dark pants like he had touched something dirty.

“They were never gonna let her live,” Gojo murmured.

“They were never going to warn us.”

A long pause.

Then Gojo grinned, all teeth, all vicious relief. “Well. Problem solved.”

Nanami sighed. “Let’s go before she gets impatient.”

Outside, you were still sitting in the car.

Unaware of how close you had come to not existing at all.

---

Your POV

You were starving. Again.

Pregnancy did that—one second, you were fine, the next, your body was demanding something salty and fried like it was a life-or-death situation.

The car was too quiet. The night was too still. You drummed your fingers against the door, the rhythm sharp and impatient. Your entire existence had been reduced to craving fulfillment, and right now, that fulfillment needed to be deep-fried and covered in salt.

Then—movement.

A teenager, white-haired, passing by with his hands stuffed in his pockets, face partially obscured.

Target acquired.

You rolled down the window. “Hey, kid.”

He stopped, turned, and blinked at you.

“Do me a favor,” you said, pulling out a crisp bill and holding it out. “Run into the store and grab me a soda. And—” you paused, adjusting your outfit because you didn’t want to be bullied for a mid-fit (he seemed like the type who would)—“some samosas or chips. Just get whatever looks good.”

The teenager tilted his head. “Shake.”

You frowned. “No. Soda.”

“Bonito flakes.”

“…What?”

He nodded, very serious. “Salmon.”

You inhaled deeply through your nose. “No. Soda. Chips. Something salty. Preferably fried.”

“Bonito flakes.”

Your eye twitched. “Are you messing with me?”

“Shake.”

A pause. A long, painful pause.

You stared at him. He stared back.

The tension thickened.

A single leaf drifted by, carried on the wind.

Finally, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “You know what? Never mind. Just get me Shoko.”

“Salmon.”

You shot him a look.

And then—

“Uh, hey.”

A new voice. A new presence.

You turned to see a dark-haired young man walking toward you, his expression a mix of mild concern and secondhand embarrassment.

The teenager—Menace Flakes—perked up. “Shake.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The newcomer sighed, rubbing his temple before looking at you. “Sorry, he’s not trying to mess with you. That’s just... how he talks.”

The dark-haired guy scratched the other’s cheek. “Sort of. It’s his cursed technique.”

Well, that was oddly homoerotic for some reason, but it wasn’t your problem.

Then his words caught you off guard. You glanced back at Menace Flakes, who blinked at you expectantly, as if he hadn’t just given you a goddamn aneurysm.

“Cursed technique?”

“Yeah,” the new guy replied. “His words make things happen. If he said something normal like ‘give me a Lambo,’ it could go south real fast.”

Huh. Weird.

You exhaled. “Fine. Whatever.” You waved a hand. “Could you buy me something to eat? You know how pregnancy is.”

The new guy nodded, but didn’t move.

Instead, his expression shifted—subtle, but sharp.

His eyes drifted downward.

Not at you.

At your stomach.

You tensed.

The air around you shifted, and for the first time, you saw his shoulders square, his stance change—like he had just registered something wrong.

“You’re—” He hesitated. “What are you?”

Your jaw locked.

Not who.

What.

Your stomach. The part of you that was currently housing two tiny freaks of nature.

He was looking at it like it was a nuclear warhead.

You exhaled slowly. “You cannot be serious.”

But he was. His fingers twitched at his side, cursed energy humming just beneath the surface.

“I can feel it,” he muttered, eyes locked on your stomach like it was about to lunge at him. “The cursed energy—it's massive. It’s—unnatural.”

You stared at him. “Yeah, no shit. I’m six months pregnant with Gojo Satoru’s kids.”

He did not look reassured.

“You are lying,” he said flatly. “No women want him.”

Menace Flakes, meanwhile, nodded sagely. “Salmon.”

“Stop helping,” you snapped.

---

The dark-haired one exhaled sharply, clearly debating whether to exorcise you, arrest you, or just straight-up pass out.

And then—

The air split open with a crack.

A presence—massive, overwhelming, and unmistakably obnoxious.

And then—

“SWEETHEART! BABY! LOVE OF MY LIFE!”

Gojo Satoru exploded onto the scene, arms spread wide, sunglasses slightly crooked, radiating pure, undiluted drama like he had just crash-landed in a soap opera.

The dark-haired one froze.

Menace Flakes blinked.

The pregnant woman in question exhaled. “Oh, great.”

Gojo landed beside you in a flourish of long limbs and expensive fabric, dramatically pressing a hand over his heart like he was personally enduring your suffering. “I felt your distress from inside the building and thought—oh no! My delicate, vulnerable wife must be suffering!”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “I was just trying to get them to buy me a soda.”

Gojo gasped, looking scandalized. “WITHOUT ME?”

The dark-haired one, still standing there, fists clenched, visibly struggling to process any of this, finally managed, “Wait—what?”

Gojo turned to him with the kind of slow, patronizing patience that made you want to file for divorce on the spot. “Yuta-kun.” He gestured toward you with a flourish, his tone unbearably smug. “Meet my wife.”

Yuta’s soul momentarily left his body.

He turned to you.

Turned back to Gojo.

Then back to you.

“She’s married to you?”

Gojo grinned. “Yes.”

“…Willingly?”

Gojo staggered back like he’d just been mortally wounded. “Excuse me, Yuta, I’ll have you know my wife adores me.” He turned to you, batting his lashes and pouting his lips in a way that made your insides almost immediately forgive him—like he could do no wrong. “Right, sweetheart?”

Familiar heat dropped in your stomach; he hadn’t looked at you like this in months.

But the way he was acting made you wonder if he was bipolar, like the unlicensed part-time mental health diagnostician you were.

A few months ago, you’d turned to psychology and philosophy to try to justify his antics or at least understand the reasoning behind them, but then you’d given up—mostly because you realized that even Aristotle and Carl Jung would be confused.

You stared at him. Then, without breaking eye contact—

“I was literally about to walk into traffic.”

Gojo cackled, delighted. “Classic my wife!”

Yuta, meanwhile, was still trying to reboot his brain. “And the cursed energy—?”

Gojo clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Ah, yes, my future children. Purse friendly—Gojo's, if you will.”

Yuta made a noise that could only be described as an existential wheeze. “Sensei, you’re telling me she’s pregnant with your kids, and that’s why she’s emitting that much cursed energy?”

And then—

A new voice.

Calm. Measured. Deeply exhausted.

Nanami, walking up like he had just spent the last ten minutes cleaning up Gojo’s mess, casually fixing his cuffs as he passed a hand over Menace Flakes’s head.

“Our kids.”

Yuta’s soul made a desperate attempt to leave his mortal shell.

Gojo beamed, clapping his hands together. “Yep! Kento’s involved too!”

Yuta let out a strangled sound, while Menace Flakes—completely unfazed—nodded. “Okka.”

“Thank you, Toge-kun.” Nanami said.

Gojo finally turned back to you, all smiles. “Now, my love, my moon, my gorgeous trillionaire—what’s this I hear about you running off?”

You exhaled sharply. “I was hungry, and you idiots locked me in my own car.”

Gojo gasped, reeling. “A travesty!” He turned to Nanami. “Ken Ken, we’ve wronged her.”

Nanami sighed. “You wronged her.”

“I wronged her,” Gojo conceded solemnly. Then, bright again—“So! Riceballs? Soda? My life’s mission is now to make sure my pregnant goddess is fed.”

And with that, Gojo climbed through the window of the car like an overgrown raccoon, all his limbs too much like giant spiders in a miniature toy car, while you stared at him in abject seen-it-all.

Nanami, a functional adult, got inside like a normal person. “See you around, Yuta. Inumaki-kun.”

Meanwhile, Yuta just stood there, staring into the void, rethinking every single life choice that had led him to this moment.

Inumaki patted his arm.

“Bonito flakes.”

---

Their POV

It had started to rain when Yuta and Toge walked off.

It came down in sheets, soaking through your clothes, clinging to your skin like a second betrayal. The city blurred around you—distant headlights, muted neon signs bleeding into puddles on the pavement. Somewhere in the distance, a car horn blared, muffled by the downpour.

But you didn’t run.

You walked away.

You didn’t run.

And that was worse.

Gojo’s heart stuttered in his chest, his mind racing to string together words fast enough to stop you, to slow you down, to do something before you slipped too far from reach. The cold wrapped around your frame, tightening like an omen, and he hated it—hated the way it took the space he was supposed to fill.

"Hey, wait up!" His voice cut through the storm, sharp with frustration. But beneath it—something raw. Something he didn’t have the luxury of hiding anymore.

You didn’t stop.

Nanami exhaled sharply beside him, his eyes locked on the way your shoulders curled inward, how the rain clung to your skin like a second betrayal. Your steps were slow, measured, as if you were daring them to catch up. Daring them to prove you wrong.

You wouldn’t have left if you thought they’d follow.

That truth lodged itself deep, ugly and undeniable, and it made Nanami’s jaw go tight, made Gojo’s hands clench at his sides.

Then—

"Darling."

Nanami’s voice, low and steady, cut through the storm. No hesitation. No desperation. Just certainty, like he was willing you to turn back.

And you froze.

Gojo felt it before he saw it—that moment of impact, the unspoken recoil of a wounded animal caught in headlights. Not fear. No. Worse.

A kind of hurt so deep it turned to silence.

When you turned, your eyes burned—lit with something Gojo had never seen before. Something that made his breath catch in his throat. He had seen you angry before, seen you upset, seen you hurt. But this—this was different.

"I’m not a project," you said, your voice cracked open at the edges. "I’m not something you can fix."

Gojo flinched.

Actually, physically flinched.

The smirk that usually softened his presence was gone, stripped away by the weight of what you had become under their hands. And in its place—something uncomfortably human. Something like guilt.

"We’re not trying to fix you," he murmured, softer than he ever spoke.

You laughed. Short. Sharp. Bitter.

Nanami felt it like a shard of glass pressed into his ribs.

"Then what the hell are you trying to do?" you demanded, your voice full of something neither of them had ever been able to name. "Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like you’re trying to be with me."

Nanami stepped forward. Not out of anger—out of control. His hands curled into fists at his sides, fighting the instinct to reach for you. To pull you back in. To erase whatever distance you had put between them.

"We’re trying to help," he said, slow, careful, but even he could feel the crack forming.

"Help?" You spat the word like poison. "Is that what you call it? Whispering behind my back? Making decisions for me? Acting like I’m some delicate fucking thing you have to handle?"

Gojo moved before he could stop himself, before he could think. His hand hovered in the air, fingertips twitching, unsure.

Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.

Like he already knew he had lost that right.

"We’re just worried about you," he whispered.

You stepped back.

And that—more than the words, more than the rain, more than anything else—was what made the air between you go thin.

Gojo and Nanami exchanged a look.

You hated them for it.

Hated the way they always seemed to understand each other when you couldn’t even get them to look at you like you mattered.

Finally, Nanami broke the silence. "We see you," he said. "We’ve always seen you."

Your breath hitched. Your hands curled into fists.

Gojo knew what came next before it happened.

He saw it in the set of your shoulders, in the way the weight of everything—the waiting, the watching, the giving, the sacrificing—broke you down all at once.

And then you snapped.

“What exactly have you two done in all of this time?” Your voice was low, dangerous. “I’ve been here—sitting, waiting, watching you both… loving you, supporting you, making sacrifices…”

You were shaking now, the weight of it all crashing down on you.

Gojo wanted to say something.

Nanami wanted to fix it.

But they both knew—

---

Nanami’s POV

She wasn’t something they could fix.

He knew that now.

It was in the way she stood, shoulders squared despite the weight pressing down on her. The rain clung to her skin, darkened her hair, but she didn’t shiver. She didn’t fold in on herself like before.

She just looked at them, and for the first time, Nanami realized she wasn’t waiting for an answer.

Because she already knew what she wanted to say.

"What have you done?"

Her voice cut through the rain, sharp and jagged as glass.

"Have you done anything but murder people for me? Huh? Have you done anything but that, because I’m still here. I’m still left behind! I’m six months pregnant, carrying twins, and all you’ve given me is your guilt and your selfishness!"

Nanami felt Gojo tense beside him, felt his breath hitch—but neither of them said anything.

Because what was there to say?

Her words were truths, ugly and cold, carved from the wreckage of everything they had left behind.

"Did you even bother to fix anything?"

She took a step forward, eyes burning, her voice raw from all the things she had swallowed down until now.

"Did you go to therapy? Did you even think for a second about how this actually affected me, or were you too busy fucking each other in every corner of the universe while I—I—was treated like a ghost?"

Gojo let out a shaky breath.

"Okay… Okay, that’s… that’s actually a good idea."

Nanami turned his head sharply, but Gojo was already looking at her, rain dripping from his lashes, his expression unreadable.

She blinked. "What is?"

This time, it was Nanami who answered. His voice was quiet, but no less firm.

"Therapy. We should… We should go to therapy."

He expected her anger. Expected the fire, the bitterness that followed.

"You think therapy will fix this?"

She laughed, but it was a hollow thing.

"No amount of talking will fix the fact that you two have torn this apart, one betrayal at a time, one “Don’t let her find out Satoru,” at a time, huh Nanami. Look at me. Therapy won’t bring me back from the way you made me feel like I don’t matter."

Nanami swallowed.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

"We didn’t mean to—" Gojo started.

"You didn’t mean to?!"

Nanami winced as her voice cracked.

"You think that’s enough? To not mean to?"

She dragged a hand over her face, and Nanami felt a strange heat build in his chest. Shame.

She was right.

She had always been right.

"Maybe I don’t want your guilt. Maybe I want you to actually show me that you care, without treating me like some side project when it’s convenient for you!"

He took a step forward. A mistake.

She stepped back, shaking her head, her walls rising between them like steel gates slamming shut.

"I’ve had enough."

There was no finality in her voice. There was no anger. Just exhaustion.

She had given them everything.

And they had taken all of it without once asking what she needed in return.

"And no amount of affection will erase the fact that you both ignored me. That you let me feel invisible—that you didn’t think about how lonely this entire situation would make me feel. You wanted me to just... accept it."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and Gojo looked like he wanted to say something, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

But he didn’t.

Because she wasn’t done.

"Yeah, therapy sounds like a good idea."

Nanami felt the weight of her words before she even finished.

"Maybe it’ll help you two figure out how to actually be. Because right now? You’re just two men who can’t even figure out how to take care of their own wife and call “smothering and ignoring” love."

The words weren’t meant to hurt.

But they did.

They stood there, soaked to the bone, and neither of them knew what to say.

Because there was nothing they could say.

And then—

She stepped forward.

Not toward him.

Toward Gojo.

And Nanami stood there, watching, as she pressed herself against him, her fingers gripping at his jacket like he was the only thing keeping her from breaking apart.

Gojo didn’t move at first.

Then his arms wrapped around her, slow, hesitant, like he was afraid.

Not of her.

Not of the storm raging inside her.

Afraid of what she had just said.

Afraid of what it meant.

"I’m scared, Satoru."

Nanami heard the words, but they weren’t meant for him.

"I never wanted to be a mother."

Her voice cracked.

"I never thought I’d be one. And now I feel like I’d die if something happened to them. I never even got to process it; I have been on flight, flight or freeze constantly. I need to breathe; my body hurts. I’m tired..."

Nanami exhaled, something twisting sharp and deep in his chest.

"And I don’t have you both."

Her fingers dug into Gojo’s jacket.

"I should have been the most supported woman in the world, but I’m not. No matter how rich or successful I am, it doesn’t matter. I wanted my husbands to know first, to care, to fix your discresions before they got worse. But instead, I feel like a fucking surrogate. Like I’m just—"

Her voice broke, the words crumbling under the weight of everything she’d been holding back. The tears came then, hot and relentless, spilling down her cheeks, getting swallowed in Gojo’s shirt, as she choked on the truth they’d been too afraid to say out loud.

She choked on the words, and Nanami thought he might break apart with her.

"Like I don’t matter to you."

Gojo’s arms tightened around her.

He froze.

Nanami did too.

Because it was true.

It had always been true.

"I don’t need your worry. I don’t need your regret."

Her voice was breaking apart, unraveling in the space between them.

"I just—"

Nanami closed his eyes.

"I just need you to see me. Not whatever version of me you think exists. Not whatever you think I should be. Me."

The rain was falling harder now.

Neither of them moved.

Nanami wanted to reach for her.

But she hadn’t come to him.

She hadn’t let herself fall apart in his arms.

Maybe she was still afraid of him. Of the way he had dragged her out of that closet. Of the way he had taken her away from Norway, against her will.

So he didn’t step forward.

He just stood there.

Watching.

And Gojo—Gojo finally moved.

He was crying, but the rain stole the proof before it could exist.

"Let’s go to couples therapy," Gojo whispered.

---

A/N: 🔥 COUPLES THERAPY ARC UNLOCKED 🔥 This fic has now reached its Enemies to Therapy to Lovers phase. 🧐 I’ll wait in the comments. 👀

Next chapter 17 (alt ending 2.8) - Invisible (Tumblr/Ao3)

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[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

IX. I'm the well they're gonna drag you down.

parts: previously / next plot: and they were rooommates. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, mentions of blood and stitches and drugs and alcohol, this chapter is fluffier because reader deserves a break, reader and bruce discussing their one-night stands, bruce thinks he's funny but he just can't hide how much he likes you okay, jealousy thy name is "disturbed". words: 6.9k. a/n: shoutout to allnurses.com contributing to at least 8 hours of research on how medications are stored in hospitals for one scene. any nurses in chat please do not stone me, I took creative liberties. also, in case there is any confusion, this chapter and the vignette take place all in (mostly) the same day.

The car gets about halfway down the street before Bruce observes out loud, "Something's bothering you."

You're clean and changed, but your hands are shoved between your thighs as you try to control their shake. Knowing what you know now, you have no reason to keep this from him. He is, by all means, the one person you should tell.

But you struggle to work up the courage without a mask looking back at you. The character of Batman you'd created in your head clashes violently with the character of Bruce. You'd written your own Jekyll and Hyde and tripped yourself up in the final act when it turned out they were one and the same, "You have a lot on your plate right now."

"So do you."

You resist the urge to grit your teeth, "It's about Judith."

Bruce thinks for a moment, "The old lady who doesn't like me."

"The very same. I... wasn't there for her last night, when I should have been. She was mugged on her way home."

Bruce doesn't make a big show of a reaction, though you notice he sits straighter, taking a break from gazing out of the window to glance at you every once in a while, "Is she badly hurt?"

"It could've been worse but... she's more shaken up than she wants me to believe."

"And her family?"

"Murdered." Bruce's car rolls by a street corner where a young mother wrangles her child back from the crosswalk, "I tried to convince her to have one of the deacons from church ride home with her from now on but she wouldn't listen. She doesn't want to be babied." Her stubbornness isn't at all unfamiliar.

"Did she see who did it?"

"She said some guys at the liquor store down the way. They hang out there every night," your eyes trail from the window down to the floor before finding Bruce's face. His profile is sharp and clean, the dark neck of his sweater stops just before the hair at his nape begins to cluster. Your eyes follow the bridge of his nose and it mirrors Batman's profile, a mix of pointed and blunt edges, "There's a... an heirloom in her purse. A lighter. She keeps it with her all the time. Her husband had it on him when he... well, he had an awful habit. She'd really like it back."

Bruce turns his head to you and you steel yourself. In the bright early morning, he is annoyingly resplendent. In the unfair way that all pretty people tended to be. It feels wrong to be asking him this. This is a stranger. You're begging for help from a stranger. You force down the sickness rising in your belly, "Please, will you-"

"I'll take care of it." He answers and it is final. He seemed to have made up his mind before you'd even asked.

The resolve in him is enough to slow your shake to nothing. There's a part of you that still doesn't quite believe what you'd seen last night, and so the certainty of Judith's well-being does not deluge you. It trickles down, dripping over your eyelashes, sprinkling off your fingertips.

You let yourself get caught up in his eyes the way you used to. You let the familiarity of them ground you and, though not with a sweeping acceptance, sigh in relief.

It's a small win in the grand scheme of steaming hot bullshit going on in your life.

You’ve taken things from General for Bruce’s sake before. Bandages and needles and disinfectants. This, however… this was a schedule II drug that could land you in prison if you got caught with it. And you were going to walk out of here with it like you were none the wiser.

A hand on your elbow forces you to slow down, drawing you back to your companion’s side. You don’t need to hear it so he doesn’t say it, but you’re embarrassed anyway. How Bruce maintains himself is enviable. “You’re a good actor.” Bruce peeks at you as you guide him through the first floor, “The thing with Gordon. You took it on the chin like a champ. You turned into a whole new person.”

“I avoid implicating myself when I can.”

“The party too. You diffused the tension, like, perfectly.”

Bruce hovers beside you as you call the elevator, a few patients and nurses lingering further behind. You can feel him probing your words for your natural line of thinking, “Couldn’t pull one over on you, though.”

No, you think, you just creeped me out while every bat-shaped clue flew right under my nose.

The elevator door slides open and the two of you squeeze into the back as the rest file in. You find yourself in a corner, braced against Bruce’s side as his hand reaches around your back to hold the railing. One of the nurses catches sight of him and swoons, the other trying (and failing) to look uninterested.

“Coming to see the new wing?” The swooning nurse asks, turning around to grin at Bruce. “Sounds like it’s coming along great. They make lots of helpful noise all day long.”

Bruce laughs good-naturedly, “Hopefully it’ll make up for all the trouble once it’s finished.”

The “uninterested” nurse nods, eyes frantically flashing from Bruce’s eyes to the floor and back over and over, “For sure! It’s really great you give back to General like this. Your dad would be proud.”

His face has no distinct reaction to it, nothing immediately telling that that comment hit too close to home. He smiles as he always does and thanks them as he always should do, and as they get off on the second floor, it’s just you two and an old man waiting for the next stop.

Bruce, to you, had long lived in his father’s shadow. The great Thomas Wayne who, despite his briefly smeared reputation, had been the face of the Wayne family for you. Even the some-twenty years after his passing had yet to shake that image from your brain.

It was his father’s legacy he was tending to here. All of the good and ugly that came with it. You couldn’t imagine how many times he’d heard his father would be proud. Did it comfort him? Frustrate him? Did he do this to make his father proud, or because it was expected of him?

Before the flood, you’d heard gossip about Wayne Enterprises going under, the reclusive in the tower giving no sign if he was alive or dead. Knowing what you know now, you wonder how much he truly wants to be a Wayne… with all the baggage that comes with it.

He’s wound tight. You can feel him against you.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you find his hand on the railing beside you and cover It with your own. He’s shocked, judging by the way he jolts under your touch for a second. You think you’ve overstepped but when you go to apologize, he is already staring wide-eyed at you. Like when you’d caught him on the stairs.

The tension is still there, and his face has fallen in its warmth and friendliness. His hand had only partially slipped out from underneath yours, but as the seconds pass you feel it rest once more, not bothering to shake you away any further.

You both force yourselves to stare ahead until the elevator dings to let you out, but through the reflection on the door, Bruce is still looking at you.

You break first, distracting you both this time as you walk out, “You kept hitting me with your knee.”

Bruce, in a daze, asks, “What?”

“At the party. While me and Roberts were arguing, you’d nudge me with your knee like it was an accident.”

Bruce seems to remember who he is and where you are, because he quickly gets back to himself, “Guess I’m not that good of an actor.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I knew where the conversation was going. I could feel you thinking.”

You remembered holding your breath as the mayor prepared herself for confrontation back then, “And the second time?”

“I was trying not to laugh.”

You flush. You’d been so impassioned that night, defending your hero who, unbeknownst to you at the time, was hiding a snicker behind his glass. You feared you’d be remembering a lot of moments like that over the next few days.

As soon as you both get into your office, you shut the door behind you, “I need you to wait here for me.” Bruce’s face tightens, “Don’t… argue. They keep extra vials of the antivenom down in the ER. I can grab one from the med room, but I can’t have you following me down there. It’s off limits for anyone without ID, let alone a patient and a donor.”

Bruce doesn’t look comfortable. Since last night, you hadn’t been anywhere Bruce or your police detail couldn’t follow. You hadn’t even been allowed to enter your apartment until the latter had deemed the place safe. A med room not much bigger than your office—locked behind an ID scanner—posed less of a threat than your two-bedroom ten minutes away.

But it was two stories down, and anything could happen in the time you were away from Bruce.

You can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to think up some plan that allowed him to remain by your side. You have to restrain yourself from feeling… flattered.

Flattery turns to bewilderment as Bruce reaches into his pocket and drops something into your hand. It’s a gadget the size of an AirPods case, shining in the light of the fluorescents. It looked perfectly unassuming and hid—lightweight as it was—a marvel of expensive technology. You could tell just by looking at it. “The hell is this?”

“It’s an EMP generator. Put it in your pocket and I can disable any communications within your vicinity, including cameras.”

“Okay, no. This is a hospital, and I’d be going into the ER with this thing. That’s too dangerous.”

Bruce looks offended. You can practically hear him say “You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” with his eyes. He silently holds his phone up to your face and you shouldn’t be as shocked as you are that it’s got live camera feed of the entire hospital. “I can control the radius. You said you trust me. So trust me.”

You swallow back your retort. You did say you were going to trust him on this. Whether or not it would be your doom had yet to be seen. You nod once, dropping the device in your pocket. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.”

Bruce’s lips purse together. He still doesn’t look settled with letting you go alone, but he has very little room to argue, “Ten minutes.”

You don’t waste time. You skip the elevator for the emergency stairwell, taking two steps at a time until you’re back on the first floor and walking to the ER. The med room at the very end of the hall would—if you were lucky—be as empty as the waiting room. All you needed to do was get in, grab what you needed and very quickly get the hell out of there. Without raising suspicion. You can feel the phantom pull of Bruce’s hand on your arm, begging you to slow down before you draw unwanted attention.

You round the corner to the med room, scan your ID, and head in.

The two nurses waiting inside greet you, analyzing you curiously, “Hey doc, need something?”

Words rattle in your brain like a d20 on a deception roll. You pray for something good, “I just wanted to grab some meds for my patient.”

One nurse sits at a computer, head titled in confusion, “Did you put in a prescription? You could’ve sent a nurse to grab it for you.”

Your eye catches the camera on the ceiling, its dark glass glinting at you, mocking you. A scrying glass recording your every move. And Bruce on the other side of it, hopefully buying you an alibi. “It’s a… special case. My patient needs it soon, so I thought I’d speed up the process and grab it myself.” You force a lightness into your tone, trying your best to appear apologetic and not at all suspicious.

The nurse hums. Then, she jabs the pen she’d holding over her shoulder, “Cart’s over there. Help yourself.”

You maneuver through the shelves separating either half of the room, keeping your head straight and eyes from wandering.

Your biggest hurdle was at the back of the room.

It’s a clunky cabinet on wheels with a monitor on top and an ID scanner on the side. In one of its many drawers, your golden ticket awaited, but these things kept logs of who checked out what, and if someone were to go through them later and find out you’d stolen a highly addictive drug without prescription…

You swallow. The generator in your pocket suddenly hangs heavy against your thigh. You glance at your phone for the time and note that four minutes have passed. You need to move quickly.

You approach the cart, fingers twitching at your sides, and right as you step up to the monitor, it flickers and goes dark. You give the power button a push for good measure but nothing happens.

Well, not nothing. You hear the cart drawers all click at once, like they’d unlocked by themselves. Tentatively, you try the top drawer and it slides out without issue. Glancing behind you, you check to make sure no nurses have wandered over, but you are the only one on this side of the room.

Your fingers drift down to the right drawer next and that one slips open too—by the grace of some god—and there you see it. It has an alien glow to it, a more subdued blue to its adversary’s green. The top of the tray holding the vials pops open with just as much ease as the drawer, allowing you to sneak one into your pocket. You shut the drawers, slowly backing away from the cart, but the monitor does not turn back on.

“What? This thing too?” You’re startled when the nurse from before suddenly jogs up from behind you, grumbling under her breath as she smacks the monitor.

You rush to cover, “It just went kaput on me.”

“Yeah, so did mine.” She maneuvers around the shelves and back to her desk where you see the other nurse at the desk scratching his head. Their monitor is glitching, having some gory digital stroke, “Here. You can sign out what you take for now and I’ll bother IT about this.”

You write down “Ibuprofen” and your name next to it, “Never seen that happen before.”

“Yeah. Thing froze up on me a minute ago. Guessing around the same time this thing died on you.”

Your stomach is still nervously fluttering, but you do feel a little smug. ���Weird.” You hand her back the clipboard and go to grab a bottle out of a different drawer. “Good luck.”

You try not to sprint past the nurses as they fuss with the computer. You’re out and back upstairs before your ten minutes are up.

Bruce is sat leisurely on your couch, no doubt watching you scurry into the office on his phone. He looks from the pill bottle in your hand and back to you.

You toss the bottle into his lap, plopping down on the couch beside him. He frowns at the label. “For you,” you poke his injured leg and his eyes follow your every movement, “you’re favoring the other leg today.”

He can’t bring himself to deny that, even if the look he gives you from beneath his eyelashes says otherwise. You flash the antivenom at him as a peace offering. “How’d I look?”

His gaze flutters slowly from the vial to you before he shows you his phone. The screen is a recording of the medication room. It shows you greeting the nurses, walking up to the med cart, and then… nothing. Black screen for forty-five seconds. When it flickers back on, you're signing the clipboard and walking away. Your body sags into the couch with relief.

“You did good.” Bruce praises you.

“I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest.”

“There are worse places to do it.” You look at him and he’s smiling just a little. You’re aware, though, that he’s aware of the toll this has taken on you. He takes the vial out of your hands and puts it in his own pocket, holding his hand out to you. “We should get going.”

Bruce follows dutifully behind you as you lead him back down to the first floor. You feel much better than when you'd arrived, but your heart stutters each time a security guard passes you by. Years ago, stealing and getting away with it was second nature to you. You were also arrogant back then, uncaring of what happened to you. How quickly the tides had changed.

You feel Bruce nudge you with his arm. He isn't looking at you, but you know what he's trying to tell you: you've got a few more hallways to turn down before the exit. You just have to-

Someone calls your name.

You spin around, nerves electrified, only to find Em running to catch up with you, "What are you doing back at work already? Is your arm okay?"

The adrenaline rush had done wonders for your pain tolerance. You didn't even think about it until she brought it up, "I'm fine, it's fine. It's-" You go to rush out some sort of explanation but at that moment, Bruce turns around.

You can see the moment of impact across Em's face as soon as she realizes who you're with, her back straightening and hand pressing down flyaways. In an instant, she has forgotten all about you. For better or for worse. She rubs her palm on her leg before holding it out to shake his hand, "Mr. Wayne! Hi! I'm surprised to see you here." Her eyes are twinkling, "Everything alright?"

"Just some leg pain, nothing painkiller can't fix." He flashes the pill bottle for good measure. You're honestly impressed he admitted to being in pain at all, "It's good to see you again, Dr. Madison."

Em's face droops into a frown, "Well, you look fantastic, but you've got a mirror," she pats your arm, "and I'm sure you're being well taken care of."

"Only by the best."

You smile (borderline pleadingly), preparing to dismiss yourselves while you still have your wits about you, but then Em asks Bruce a question and, to your surprise, Bruce is happy to entertain her.

It strikes you that you had landed in your situation with no prior interest in who Bruce was, and it shows in how you barely keep up with the topic of conversation.

It's like watching a tennis match between the two. The topic in Em's court, then Bruce's, then Em's, back and forth without issue. No awkward pauses or uncomfortable looks. She recalls details about him out of thin air, your knowledge in comparison merely fringes of what Em knew.

The longer it goes on, the more it weighs on you that aside from the strange man who'd circled around you like a frightened kitten, you really didn't know anything about Bruce.

You knew Batman. You felt you knew him. Even when his identity was still a secret, you had felt comfortable with him. Vulnerable, even. He'd let you touch him in your home, fixing him up and helping you with this mess and... outside of that, what did you really know?

You feel an odd twist in your chest.

Em's voice floats back in, disrupting your retrospection, "I've always wanted to go to Italy. You must get so sick of these places after having been so many times."

"They still have their magic," Bruce grins, "but I don't like being far from home."

"Really? You could go anywhere in the world and you'd still miss Gotham?" Em's tone is teasing, but curious. Something flickers in her eyes as if she'd just remembered something.

Bruce takes in the hallway, chest swelling with pride, "Lots of things to miss about it."

"Name one."

Bruce's eyes cut to the side as he thinks, "The noise."

"You can get noise anywhere. LA, Chicago-"

"It's special here."

"No, try again."

His smile turns sheepish, "The rain."

"Now you're lying. Come on, pretty boy. I know you've got something. Penthouse, nightlife- heck, I'd even understand the freaks and clowns giving everyone PTSD."

Bruce exhales, purses his lips. His eyes flit around the white walls, "Okay. I'd miss you."

What the hell?

You straighten up. The absurdity (blatant sweet-talk) of the line shouldn't work—seriously, it wouldn't work on you—but Em goes pink in the cheeks. A strand of dark hair falls from her bun and frames her smile just so, "Well," she snorts, "aren't you just a flirt?"

To your utter dismay, they are both eating this up. "You light up the room, Dr. Madison. Your patients are very lucky."

"My patients are usually seven and way more interested in the candy I bring them."

"Candy?" Bruce finally looks at you, all humor and charm, "I never get candy. I just get yelled at."

Something in you is disturbed when Em grabs onto Bruce's arm, hanging off him as she pouts at you, "Oh! You're heartless!"

"Very much so." Bruce is somber.

"I don't-" Your voice comes out strained, a little too defensive right off the bat, "I don't yell." But you'd gotten close, and you got closer everyday, "But if I did, you'd deserve it."

Bruce is amused. You watch as he pretends to cower into Em, even as he dwarfs her in size. They start joking back and forth, more teases at your expense, and you notice that the persona he puts on around others is practically nonexistent here. You'd watched it dissolve within minutes. It's refreshing, you realize, that he seems to really be enjoying himself right now.

You catch Bruce insisting that he ought to get going, sharing pleasantries and desires to visit once more. Em looks genuinely saddened to let him go. The second Bruce's back turns, Em reaches out and squeezes your hand, whispering, "Please tell me he's single."

You fluster. You imagine yourself in the car ride back to the tower asking Bruce what he thinks about Em, offering to exchange numbers between them, and you're disturbed again.

Twenty-four hours ago, you would've been warning her to run for the hills. Twenty-four hours ago, he was only Bruce Wayne. Now he was Batman and all that came with it and, well... once upon a time, you would've wanted nothing more than for Bruce Wayne to sweep Em off her feet. Batman had always been more your style.

Then, you realize, you don't actually know the answer to her question.

Em looks expectant. You shrug. She exaggerates her disappointment but releases you all the same, "Keep me posted."

"I'm comparing the samples from the crime scene to the antivenom. I should have something in a few hours." Bruce taps the antivenom vial, watching the remaining blue liquid slosh against the glass, before handing it off to Alfred.

You're mesmerized by this backyard (or, more aptly put, garage) chemistry lab. Beakers and flasks spread out on the long table as you watch from a stool a few feet away, "How'd you get so good at this?"

"College," after a few seconds of silence from you, he adds on begrudgingly, "I started messing around with stuff down here when I was 13."

"You had all this when you were 13?"

"Some of it, whatever I could get my hands on. I liked to see how things worked."

You have a unique opportunity to learn about Bruce here, so you take it with both hands, "You majored in chem, then."

"And biology, and physics."

Your eyes blow wide. "You had three majors?"

"I bounced from one to another, sometimes double majored if I liked the professors. I followed my interests and they took me everywhere," Bruce picks up the venom test tube, little drops of green pooling at the bottom of the glass, "I've enrolled in more universities than I have degrees."

Your eye twitches, just a little annoyed, "Must've been nice going wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted."

Bruce senses your tone of voice. He peers at you from the side, elbows resting on the table, "I spent a lot of time away from home. It must've been enough because I don't miss it."

"You said the same thing to Em earlier." You recall.

"I didn't think about it as much while I was gone, but when I came home for good... I just couldn't imagine myself leaving like that again."

"He barely liked boarding school," Alfred chimes in from the other side of the room, lazily reading a book at Bruce's desk. Boarding school was posh. You imagined little Bruce in a school uniform like the British boys in movies, "I should bring out the scrapbooks once we have a moment."

Bruce sets the test tube back on its rack with a bit of aggression, "Thank you, Alfred. You can go now."

Alfred chortles. He skims one more page of his book and then shoves it under his arm on the way back up. The elevator clinks and rattles up the tower until it stops some sixty stories up.

It's quiet now. You sort of appreciate the silence- the relative silence. There is the steady drip, drip, drip coming from here and there in the cave. The whirring of the machines, the humming of the lights, the very faint sound of a news anchor forecasting snowy skies this weekend. Bruce's breathing.

It's harder to hear unless you focus on it. His mountainous build hunched over the table—staring into the venom as it stares back—rises and falls in slow rhythm. You watch him being and it captivates you. For the umpteenth time since last night, you are struck with the reminder that this was Batman. In all his broody glory, an arm's length away from you, about a hundred feet under the city.

It's funny; you paid so little attention to the man before, and now you wanted to take him apart and examine his terrible insides. You have accidentally become obsessed with the man.

"I want to take you to Blackgate."

"Sorry?"

"Lucien is there," the name makes your blood run cold, "he was with the Vipers the longest. He could answer a few things for us."

You do your best not to immediately say no. Not because you think he'll force you, but because you know—somehow—that he won't, "What about Detective Gordon? Shouldn't that be his job?"

"I think he'll talk to you." Bruce turns slowly until his back is pressed against the desk, arms crossed over his chest and pulling his shirt completely taut. "He knows you."

You hadn't seen Lucien since the night Alex died. For once, you're kind of grateful Bruce can read you. He turns fully toward you, "I can go alone."

"You just said you think he'll talk to me."

"I can make him talk." His head droops a little to meet your eyes, expression impossibly understanding. You have no doubt he can. Your throat feels like it's on the verge of closing up. Somehow, sending Bruce alone to handle him felt worse.

"But you think I can..." You have to pause to force in a breath, feeling yourself go lightheaded, "You think I can get more out of him." Bruce doesn't respond to that. He's still watching you like you might start stress-sobbing. "Okay."

"You sure?"

"Mm."

Bruce calls your name. You'd been tracing the lines of his arms with your eyes to distract yourself, not processing how much closer he'd gotten until you feel his breath against your eyelashes.

His arms are uncrossed now, one hand pressing into the table beside you, the other hovering by his hip. His fingers twitch. Does he want to touch you? You were about to go three for three with the crying in his arms thing.

You force yourself off the stool and the speed at which you stand gives Bruce very little time to react. Your chest bumps against him, but you're already slipping behind him, "Lemme see your stitches," you rasp, hand ghosting over his shoulder, "need to... redress them, probably."

Bruce tries looking over his shoulder at you but you hide behind him and after a moment, he relents. His shoulders drop in defeat. You watch him drag your stool into the light and sit.

The dismal mood did you a favor. He looked like he'd be submissive today.

You're halfway through clearing away his dried blood when you ask, "Are you single?"

Bruce's shoulder jolts just the tiniest bit, almost driving your finger into the stitch. "What?"

"Em asked," you quickly explain, "and I realized I didn't know."

You don't know exactly what he's thinking, but his answer is as straightforward as you could hope for, "Yes."

"Oh."

"You sound surprised."

"I mean... I sort of assumed..." What did you assume, exactly? You couldn't see him with a long term partner, definitely not like this, but the idea that there wasn't anybody didn't sit right with you, "no flings? Situationships, even?"

"Why? Is Dr. Madison interested?"

Your jaw clenches. You force the muscles in your face to relax, "I just don't want any secret lovers of yours adding me to their shitlist if I go through with your plan. I can't stress how little I want to fake-fight over you right now."

Bruce huffs. You finish cleaning around his wound when he pipes up again, "I had something... someone. It didn't last."

"Oh. Are you... tender about it?"

"Not anymore. I don't have time for that kind of thing anyway."

He says it like it doesn't bother him, but in the way someone might brush off a scrape on the knee or a paper cut. Like it stung, but you had to be a big boy about it. The pain would go away eventually.

You press new gauze over the stitches, taping it down as gently as you could, "I assumed someone like you would have a whole lot of someones, a revolving door even," your eyes flit over his other bruises and healed cuts, "I never made time for relationships either. I was kind of just going through the motions."

"No one interested you?" Bruce rolls his shoulders once you peel away from him. He doesn't look at you when he asks that.

"Just... childish crushes here and there. Sometimes I'd let someone take me home..." Your voice catches in your throat for a moment. You recall a stamped down memory, one of you standing blindfolded in your apartment imagining the Batman with his mouth on your throat. That wasn't very long ago. Your breath shudders as you fit Bruce into the memory instead. You don't... know how to feel about it.

"Never back to yours? And here I thought Judith was just hard on me." You belatedly register Bruce standing, rolling his shirt up his arms before pulling the neck over his hair. His question hangs lightheartedly.

Your shoulders sag, "You're not gonna believe me if I tell you I was paranoid about letting one-night stands into my home."

"Why? 'Cause you let me in?"

The back of your neck grows hot. "What about you? You ever bring yours back to the cave?"

After he's done tucking his shirt into his pants, Bruce shakes his head at you, "No. Just you."

That was the second time he'd said that to you. You were starting to feel special.

You step out of the shower and you think, almost as soon as your foot touches heated floors, that you really despise Bruce Wayne.

The towels are warm too, waiting for you as you preen yourself in the mirror, a clean you staring back. You kept your toiletries bag on the bathroom counter, afraid to unpack anything as you rustled around for deodorant. It was massive and quiet. The water pressure alone had you swearing at the marble lining of the shower.

Bruce eventually lured you downstairs with the promise of making dinner. Alfred was skeptical, but had backed off and allowed Bruce full range of the kitchen, still possessed by his book next to the fire.

He'd asked you what you had the stomach for. Eventually he was copying something out of a celebrity recipe book with you beside him.

You argued that he hadn't really made you dinner given that you had helped him do half of everything, but it was his ingredients and it was his kitchen and the food tasted good so you didn't argue long.

After Alfred offered his stamp of approval, he'd retired for the night and left you and Bruce in the kitchen to clean up. Bruce had left the pots and pans to you when you proved too nervous to handle the porcelain, "Alfred won't kill you if it breaks."

"Alfred would kill me for less, I think."

Bruce gives a short laugh, drying off the last pot. He's pouring you a glass of the wine you'd opened last night when you slide his little gadget across the counter, "I forgot to give that back to you." You swirl your glass, admiring the color as Bruce packs away the leftovers. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself with Em earlier."

"I was. Your friend is funny."

"I... also noticed something you said. When she asked you what you would miss about Gotham, you mentioned the noise and the rain. Would you really miss all that?"

Bruce glances at you, popping a top onto a glass bowl, "Of course. It's part of what makes the city."

Your eyes narrow, searching for the lie, but there isn't one. He's being sincere. "Is that why you became Batman? Because you love this city that much?"

You can feel the mood getting doused with ice water. It forces you upright in your chair, makes your hand clench around the stem of your glass. Anyone with eyes could tell you'd just touched a nerve.

But he answers you, intense as it comes out, "I hated it." The loathing is a mere shell of what it used to be, you can tell, "I hated what it took from me." His eyes cast down to the countertop. "At first, I was aimless. Everyone was worried about the future of the company but Alfred and I were just trying to make it through the day. Over the years, I boiled up with this... restlessness. I still didn’t know where I was going but I was full of something for once. I studied, I traveled, I learned from all manner of teacher. And when I came home, I was... determined."

His words sit heavily on you. You can see flecks of that restlessness in his eyes, the slight tremble of his hands as he rests them against the countertop. "Why a bat?" You whisper.

"They're what I feared the most."

Past tense. "Feared?"

"I got over it. I won't let them close enough to bite, but..." The humor in his voice breaks the intensity of his expression.

You mull that over, "You became what you feared to strike fear."

"Not anymore," his head shakes, "fear is a tool, but... there's enough fear in this city. I wasn't making a change, I was making it worse."

You remembered the first time you'd ever heard of the Batman. Back then, he was just "Vengeance". In the grand scheme of fucked up things this city had to offer, someone running around dressed as a bat didn't register as abnormal. Another Tuesday, maybe. You awaited what they'd say about his crimes: a mugger beaten and strung up on the street, a gang felled and dropped at the GCPD's door. You remembered something stirring in you when he put away the Joker.

"I remember when you became a hero. Like really, to everyone. When you took shape… they were flying in people. I was rushing in patients while you stood on top of the Garden and pulled people out of the flood. I hadn’t felt hope like that since… yeah."

Your admission moves something in Bruce. His eyes find yours, "I was just doing what you'd been doing for years."

"But I never left that hospital. You transcend boroughs, the gangs, everything. I used to think you couldn’t possibly be one guy. I still can’t believe it. How are you not dead on your feet by now?" Bruce smiles knowingly at you and you feel yourself flush, "Besides that. You’ve been doing this for longer than I've been around to patch you up."

"That would be Alfred."

"You should tell him, you know. That you appreciate him. I think he'd like to hear how much he means to you more often." Bruce's eyes soften. He doesn't debate you. "Anyway. How's that sedative going?"

"I'll take another look before I leave tonight."

Oh, yeah. This guy is Batman.

You don't know when next you'll get this chance, "Can I ask a favor? Can I... watch you put it on?" Bruce wobbles to the side, genuinely confused. "The suit?"

He examines you, mouth almost curling up into a shocked smile. He hadn't expected you to ask that, that's for sure. "All of it?"

You grip your glass so hard you think it might shatter, "No." And then, when he has the audacity to snicker, "Asshole."

He stays true to your request.

You watch with your back pressed up against the wall. His under suit hangs undone at his hips while he leans over his desk, digging his fingers into a can of black paint. He uses the reflection of his computer screen to smear it over his eyelids and under his eyelashes until the white skin beneath disappears.

Next is zipping up the under suit. You barely resist rushing over to hold his bandage steady as the suit catches on it, but he manages to get it up and over without pulling it off. Then come the plates of armor. Each piece clips into place, clinging to his waist and chest and arms. You've seen it up close enough times to know the quality of it, a wonder how he'd gotten his hands on that kind of stuff until now.

You don't ask him to, but when it's time to put his cowl on, he turns sideways so you can see.

His gloved hand combs through his hair, pushing back the longer strands so he could fit the cowl over it.

It's kind of embarrassing how it takes your breath away. Bruce had quite literally transformed before your eyes, and now there was no denying it.

Bruce stands still as your eyes bore into him.

After a few seconds of admiring every piece of the suit, your eyes flit up to his face. He's not looking at you, almost shy. Apart from Alfred and, perhaps, his someone, Bruce has probably never put on the suit in front of anyone else. Is it weird you missed seeing him shy? "It fits perfectly." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Of course it does. You know it's dumb to say. Bruce doesn't say that, though.

He waits a beat before turning away from you, his cape sending a breeze of cool air up against your legs. His car awaits on the train tracks, headlights beaming into the near endless darkness as he approaches and you follow.

The car thrums eagerly with life at the push of a button, sending vibrations through the ground, all the way up to the ceiling where you hear a sudden flurry of wings and chirping. Bowing your head close to Bruce, you watch about a hundred bats scurry about above you, disturbed by the sudden rumble of the engine. Bruce holds his cape over your shoulder, though none of the bats fly low enough to concern him. "They don't freak you out a little bit?"

"They haven't bothered me."

"Well, when you dress like them I guess they get confused."

"I'll be back before sunrise," Bruce promises, "and I'll look into Judith for you. Maybe you should... call first."

You're tickled by the discomfort he's so desperately trying to hide, "Scared of a little old lady?"

He pointedly ignores you. You step back as he throws open the door and settles into his car, but before he can pull off into the darkness, you shout his name to get his attention over the roaring engine, "Hey! Be safe."

Bruce looks at you and... you don't know what he's thinking, only that the muscles in his jaw relax a bit. Was he used to that? Did Alfred often stand on the cold, empty train tracks before every patrol and wish him luck on another night of beating criminals to a pulp? Was he used to the worrying? Annoyed by it, even?

He doesn't say anything. The car leaves in a spray of dust and you hide your face in your shirt to shield yourself from it. By the time the dust settles, you can only see two red lights blurring into the distance.

[muffinpink02]

Lucy and Ona 🥰 the Lucy padel vid got me feeling things and the big O made me desperate for more jealous Ona

So maybe Lucy takes up padel, has a hot instructor who clearly fancies her, Ona happens to be watching her once and overt jealousy ensues. And smut obv, always smut

Feel free to not do that if it’s a terrible idea 😂 I don’t have the most creative of minds, I won’t be offended 😶‍🌫️

Many Shades Of Green

Anon request - Thank you beautiful anon! Loved this idea! I haven't really read it through so you may see changes if you ever come back for seconds. Dom Ona

Warnings - smut 18 public sex,

And @lucyandalexiafan thank you ALWAYS for reading my several pages off notes and always being there for the fics chats and the deep chats. My tumblr bestie, I appreciate you a whole lot ❤️

“You sure you don't want to try it out? It's really fun” Lucy asked her girlfriend.

“No, it's okay. I’ll be happy reading and watching.” Ona smiled playfully.

Lucy chuckled shyly as she looked at her paddle. 

The girls were waiting for Lucy’s paddle board trainer. She had been interested in the Paddle sport for some time now, but hadn't had a chance to get into the activity with her schedule being so tight. But finally with a rare day of freedom she finally got round to booking a trainer of the sport. 

“I wonder where she is? Oh that might be her.” 

Ona looked up to see a tall blonde woman approaching them at the side of the court. It was like she was walking in slow motion, the girl had legs for days. She had bright blue eyes and a Hollywood smile, she looked more like a model than a trainer. 

“Hey you must be Lucy? I’m Katie.” The blonde put her hand out for Lucy, her bright smile almost blinding.

Ona didn’t miss the way the blonde eyed up Lucy’s body. 

Lucy smiled politely and took Katie’s hand. “Hey Katie, nice to meet you. This is my partner, Ona.”

The vogue looking model then eyed up Ona, a small smirk crept on her face. 

“Gosh, you’re so little, I almost didn’t see you down there.” She laughed.

Ona had to laugh it off, it wasn’t the first time someone had mentioned her height and it wouldn’t be the last. But it still annoyed her. 

“Ha, yeah, luckily I won't be in your way. I’m just watching.” Ona rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. 

Lucy gave Ona a small smile, the younger brunette knew Lucy loved her height, she constantly told her how cute she was, or how she fit into the crock of her neck perfectly when they cuddled. But it didn't make her any less self conscious when someone mentioned it in such a way, especially if that someone looked like a catwalk model.

Katie gave Ona a fake smile, but didn’t reply, she turned to Lucy with her bright smile back on her pretty face. 

“Anyways, shall we get started, Luce?” 

Ona raised her eyebrows at the blatant rudeness of the blonde and the new nickname for her girlfriend. 

“Ahh yeah sure.” Lucy smiled back at Ona as she walked with the blonde to the centre of the court. Ona rolled her eyes as she took a seat in the stands. She pulled out her book and began to read. 

The Spaniard was close enough to hear their conversation, so she didn’t miss the obnoxious laugh Katie gave everytime Lucy said something. Ona loved Lucy, but she wasn’t that funny. She shook her head and tried her best to get into her book, but she couldn't keep her eyes from wandering up to the pair in front.

Katie was showing Lucy how to swing her paddle, she stood next to the brunette and grabbed her arm. 

“Wow, you’ve got some power in those arms, I bet you could lift me without blinking.” Katie chuckled, her hand still on Lucy’s biceps, squeezing her muscles.

Lucy laughed politely. Ona knew Lucy wouldn't know what to do in a situation like this, she got it all the time. So much so that she didn't even notice the difference when someone was flirting or just being polite with her. 

“Let me just get behind you and show you the right form.” Katie said.

“Ahh, okay yeah.” 

Ona watched as the blonde put her hands on Lucy's waist, moving her into position, she tried to not let it get to her, it was sports after all, her trainers had done similar things and she knew there was nothing behind it. But Katie had been flirting with Lucy since her foot touched the court.

“Okay, that's great. Put your back out a bit more. Yeah,that's it, now stick out your bum. Perfect, that's nice.” 

Ona watched as Katie shamelessly checked out Lucy's arse. The Spaniard could feel her jealousy starting to creep up, but she tried her best to ignore it. 

Katie stepped a little closer, pushing herself against Lucy's arse.

That's when Ona lost all interest in her book,

“Okay now back up with me, I won't let you fall.” 

Lucy was completely oblivious to Katie's gross tactics. When it came to any kind of sport Lucy had her head game on, she had been looking forward to the training for some time, so she was locked into concentrating on her instructions, not realising what Katie was doing.

“Beautiful. Just like that.” Katie bit her lip as she felt Lucy press into her. Ona watched as she placed her hand on Lucy's back and pushed her slightly forward. “Perfect, good.”

Ona couldn't ignore the angry heat that crept up her spine, she was pissed. Ona’s teeth gritted so hard she was close to breaking a tooth. She wasn't a violent person, or even an angry person but she was close to dashing her book in Katie's pretty face. 

“Okay, good. Let me just show you how I position myself. So you can try that way.” 

“Okay.” Lucy nodded.

Katie stood in front of Lucy. “Now just watch how I bend.” 

Ona watched as the blonde bent over in front of Lucy, her mini skirt was sitting just below her arse cheeks, but she bent so far forward you could practically see the outline of her lips in her underwear. Ona couldn't believe the way this girl was throwing herself at Lucy, It was completely over the top. 

The girl was clearly into Lucy, and my god, she was trying her hardest to get some kind of attention. Ona couldn't help but laugh at how tacky she was. 

“See how my knees bend?”

Lucy was trying her best to not look at the girls in front of her. She looked over at Ona to see if she was doing okay, but that's when she saw the anger flash across Ona’s normally gentle face. Lucy looked at her, trying to mouth ‘what's wrong’ but before Ona could respond Katie was there, again.

“See what I mean, Luce?”

Lucy looked back at Katie. “Oh yeah, yeah I see.”

Katie stood up and faced the brunette again. “Great, I know not everyone can bend as much as that. You have to be flexible.” She took a step closer to Lucy and whispered “I do a downward dog every morning and every night.” She purred as she winked at the brunette.

“O-Oh yeah, good to keep the muscles going.” Lucy awkwardly rubbed her nose. 

“You would know, I bet you’re always at the gym.”

“Yeah, part of the job.” Lucy awkwardly played with her paddle. 

“Yoga is really good for the body. I do private classes, if you were ever interested. Just one on one. It really helps in the bedroom, I can be put in so many positions.” She smirked at Lucy. 

“Ah y-yeah. I’ll let you know.” Lucy stuttered, she was slowly starting to catch on to why Ona had a face of thunder.

“Great, I’ll keep you to that promise. Let's play a round, I wanna see your form.” 

The girls played 3 rounds. Katie had actually kept the flirting down a minimum, aside from taking off her t-shirt as she was ‘So hot’ and was now in a tight sports bra that held little to the imagination. But Ona was still pissed. She had heard the majority of their conversation and wanted nothing more than to drag Katie by the hair and stick her paddle where the sun didn't shine.

 As I said before, Ona wasn't an angry person, or a violent person, she was normally calm, cool and collected. But now and again Ona could maybe, sometimes be a little jealous. 

Yes, it might have bugged her when the barista girl gave Lucy doe eyes every time they got coffee. And yes of course it annoyed her when girls would throw themselves at Lucy when they were out at a bar or restaurant. But, Ona was only human, of course she would get annoyed when someone flirted with the taller brunette, Lucy was hers, for as long as Lucy wanted to be of course.

And someone as shameless as Katie always brought out the little green jealous Ona. 

Finally, the game was done.

“Okay, let's leave it there. Good job, Luce.” Katie patted the brunette on the back.

“Yeah, it was good, it's a lot of fun.” Lucy smiled.

Katies blue eyes roamed over Lucy's body. “Let me help you stretch, your thighs will be tight.”

“That's okay, I can help her with that.” Ona was suddenly standing by the fence.

Lucy and Katie both jumped at Ona’s sudden appearance. 

Katie gave Ona a particularly bitchy look, clearly annoyed to have been caught out. She gave Ona another fake smile. “I think I might know how to work her muscles a bit better than you, it's my job.”

“I think I might know a little bit, I am a professional athlete. Also I think I know Lucy's body a lot better than you.” Ona gave her own fake smile.

“Of course.” Katie snarled. She turned back to Lucy who hadn't missed the blatant passiveness going on between the girls. The blonde put her winning smile back on.

“You have my email. Let me know when you can do another session next week, and that yoga class.” Katie smirked.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know. Thanks again.” Lucy waved.

Katie watched Lucy walk away, her blue eyes locked with Ona’s brown ones. She gave the younger brunette a wicked smile and walked off the court. 

“Hey, you ready? How was your book?” Lucy asked.

Ona hadn't read one single sentence of her book, but Lucy didn't need to know that.

“Good, but I was a bit distracted.” Ona gave Lucy a tight smile. 

Lucy knew that tone, she knew that smile, she had seen it plenty of times before, it was no secret Ona was a jealous person. It was never a problem, it didn't cause Lucy any stress. It was never serious enough for her to find it uncomfortable or controlling, it was just a trait that Ona had. Lucy saw it every now and then, she couldn't help but find it cute, and even made her feel special. 

Being seen as the more dominant one in the relationship Lucy sometimes felt like she couldn't be in that position where her partner was the more jealous one but with Ona she always made her feel wanted and?

“Can we go to the showers? I wanna wash and get out of these clothes.” 

Lucy grabbed her shirt, dabbing the sweat that dripped down her face, flashing her hardened abs that flexed from her breathing. 

The Spaniard had seen Lucy’s abs more times then she’d had hot meals, but no matter how many times she had her eyes, hands, mouth or other regions of her body on those muscles, they always managed to leave her speechless.

“Y-yeah.” Ona cleared her throat. 

They headed towards the showers, Lucy spoke about their plans later but it fell on deaf ears, Ona wasnt really listening. She was thinking about all the ways she would fuck Lucy when they got home. The younger brunette couldn't stop the hot desire she had bubbling up in her stomach, her jealousy had sparked a mix between anger and pure want for her girlfriend. 

They made it to the showers. 

“I won't be long.” Lucy kissed Ona’s cheek.

“Okay. I’ll wait here.” Ona smiled as she sat round the corner.

The older brunette made her way into the shower room, she entered the cubicle and began to wash her sweaty body. Little did she know Ona was sat outside, thinking about what strap to use on the girl, but her thoughts were interrupted by that irritating laugh she heard earlier.

“Yeah, I just finished my session with her. She’s so sexy! She definitely wanted me, if it wasn't for her pixie girlfriend being there she would have definitely given her number to me.” Katie spoke obnoxiously on her phone. “Yeah, I’m going to shower now. I'll talk to you later.” 

Katie couldn't see Ona sitting behind the corner but Ona had heard enough to know exactly who she was talking about, she heard the door to the showers open as Katie walked inside.

That's when something snapped inside Ona. The calm, cool and collected side of her had all but disappeared and was replaced by a red hot anger that erupted inside of her body. She had done her best at holding it in, but Katie had pushed her a step too far, she couldn't hold it in any longer and that green little monster had finally come out to play. She gripped the arm chair as she waited a couple of seconds before following Katie.

Ona entered the hot shower room, she just caught the back of Katies head entering a cubicle. Then she noticed Lucy's unmistakable Barcelona towel, hanging over a door. 

She knocked on her girlfriend's cubicle door. “Lucy.” 

Lucy heard Ona’s voice, she unlocked the door to see if the younger brunette was okay.

“Hey, wha-” To Lucy's surprise the door was pushed open by the short Spainiard. 

Ona roamed her hungry eyes over Lucys naked wet body, she looked so fucking good. The Spaniard smirked dangerously at her girlfriend, loving the confusion on Lucy’s face. She stripped her clothes off with speed she didn't know she had. Throwing the clothing on the dry bench next to Lucy's own clothes.

The shorter girl wasted no time as she pushed Lucy's naked body hard against the cubicle. The taller brunette let out a grunt as her back hit the wall.

“Ona, whats wro-” Lucy’s words were cut off by Ona’s mouth suddenly on hers.

She didnt have time to explain to Lucy that she wanted to fuck her exactly where she stood, or that Katie had created a angry, jealous, horny side of her.

Ona’s kisses were deep and rough, Lucy easily melted into her touch. She was slightly confused about the sudden intrusion but when Ona kissed her like this she didn't really see a need to stop and ask questions. 

Ona forcefully pushed her tongue into Lucy's mouth, causing the taller girl to let out a surprised squeak as Ona sucked hard on her tongue. The Spaniard's hands glided up the girl's neck, allowing her short nails to scratch her skin, Lucy hissed at the slight pain but it was silenced with Ona’s hungry lips, Lucy couldn't ignore the arousal that came with the sting on her skin.

Her fingers entangled in the older brunette's wet hair, just before she gripped onto the back of Lucy's neck, pulling her closer to her face, making the taller girl bend. She was controlling every move of their kiss, every break for air, every angle was controlled by Ona.

She moved her hot mouth along Lucy's jaw, taking small bites after each kiss. Lucy's hands gripped Ona’s hips as she brought her closer to her wet body, she could already feel her core wanting to be touched.  

Ona lips reached Lucy's neck, she could taste the salty sweat that Lucy hadn’t washed yet. She couldn't get enough of the flavour, she wanted more. She greedily traced the whole length of her tongue over her wet salty skin, wanting to taste every part of her. She felt an almost animistic side of her kick in, she wanted to make sure everyone knew Lucy was hers, especially Katie. 

Ona moved her thigh in between Lucy's legs, she pushed herself hard against the taller girl's body, pinning her to do the wall. She was never normally so rough, she could be dominant now and again but that jealous flame in her only grew the more she heard Lucy’s sweet moans. 

Lucy's hips moved desperately along Ona’s thigh, but the shorter girl didn't allow her the friction she needed, she moved her leg ever so slightly away, not giving Lucy and her throbbing clit what she wanted. 

Ona couldn't stop herself as she sunk her teeth into Lucys wet skin. Lucy winced as she let out a shaky breath from the sharp pain. Ona wanted to mark her girlfriend’s body, she wanted to make Lucy and anyone who was in touching distance know she was hers. 

The shorter girl hungrily moved her mouth down to Lucy's chest, kissing Lucy’s tight nipple. She gently bit at the bud, capturing it between her teeth as her tongue flicked hard against her flesh. Lucy’s hands tightneed around Ona’s hips, causing the girl's mouth to clamp down around her skin. She couldn't help the smile when she heard Lucy whimper above her, she could tell she was trying to be quiet, but that wasn't part of her plan.

“Onaaa.” She husked.

Ona gave a particularly hard suck before she moved her mouth away. She began to kiss down Lucy's abdomen, biting and sucking at the beautiful abs. She lowered herself to her knees in front of Lucy. 

Lucy couldn't hold the groan in when Ona kneeled in front of her. Her beautiful girlfriend looked up at the Northerner, her brown doe eyes were full of desire but also a hint of anger, that Lucy didn’t miss. Ona kissed Lucy's stomach with a hunger that made Lucy's knees weak, she could feel her clit throbbing as she watched Ona move lower to her already wet cunt.

She laced her fingers in Ona’s hair, urging her to move to the spot she needed her most, but Ona grabbed her hands and pinned them to the wall. 

“No touching.”

“Ona, baby please.”

Ona loved feeling Lucy’s hands in her hair in any state, but right now she wanted to be the one in charge, she wanted to have full control of this situation, even if Lucy's begging made her want to give her everything she wanted.

“Are you desperate Luce?” 

Lucy looked down at the girl on her knees, she could feel Ona’s breath on her, her insides melted at the site. Ona’s hooded eyes were looking at her with so much lust, it made her throat dry.

She nodded. “Yeah.” She whispered.

“Louder, I can't hear you.” Ona gently bit Lucy's thigh.

The older brunette bit her lip, she wanted to scream.

“I’m desperate Ona, please.” She picked her voice up a little but not enough.

“More.” Ona giggled, she knew Lucy was holding back, it made sense, they were in a public space but she didn't care, she wanted someone in particular to hear exactly what she was about to do to her girlfriend.

She clearly needed a little push, Ona dragged her tongue along Lucy's thigh, stopping at the crease, between her thigh and lips, kissing her lightly. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, as she felt Ona tease her. 

“Ona. Please.” 

“You’re mine aren't you Lucy? Hmm?”

“Yes. All you-, aah fuck!”

Ona swiped her tongue through Lucy's throbbing folds.

“Say it again. Louder.” She kissed Lucy's wet lips, tasting her girlfriend's familiar taste.

“I’m all yours On-aaa! Yes, please don't stop.” Lucy half shouted. 

Lucy’s head hit the cubicle wall as the girl on her knees began to eat her out. She knew Ona was pissed off with Katies constant flirting, but she didn't realise just how pissed she was. Ona wasn't slow, she wanted to make Lucy scream. She picked up her tongue with a fast pace, hitting Lucy's swollen clit. She hadn't seen this kind of side to her before, this possessive side, but fuck, she couldn't get enough of it. 

“Fuck, Ona.” Lucy whispered. 

Ona wasn't having that.

The Spaniard moved her mouth from Lucy's core. “Sorry, I didn't hear you?” She looked up, her lips already wet with Lucy.

“I….fuck, Ona please, please. I need your mouth. Please!” The girl moaned, loudly.

Bingo. 

That's exactly what Ona wanted to hear. She couldn't stop the devilish smirk that pulled at her lips, she knew Katie would have heard Lucy, and whoever else was in the room.

“You need my mouth?” She kissed her sensitive lips. “Why Lucy?”

Lucy's hands flexed under Ona own, still pinned to the wall. Her head was dizzy. 

“Becu- ahh. Because you make me feel good” Lucy pleaded.

“How good?”

“So fucking good. Your mouth was made for me, Ona.” Lucy's hips rolled, trying to get across how much she wanted her. “I love you, and your perfect mouth.” Her words were softer this time.

“I love you too.” Ona husked.

The younger girl ducked her head back between Lucy's legs picking her pace back up, tracing her talented tongue all over Lucy's sensitive flesh. Lucy let out a loud groan, finally feeling Ona’s mouth work on her properly. She wanted so badly to entangle her fingers into Ona’s hair, so scared that she would move away again.

Lucy’s not so soft whimpers were loud enough to hear two doors down, Katie could hear every moan, groan, whimper and even the wet sucking from Ona’s wet lips. She huffed as she washed her desperate sweat away.

The younger girl worked her mouth on her girlfriend, her own cunt throbbing at the noises Lucy was making. The older brunette had clearly forgotten her worries of being loud, she was completely lost in the feeling of Ona, pleasuring her with so much desire.

She began to move her hips, gently into Onas face, her clit felt so good finally being sucked the way she loved, between Ona’s perfect lips. 

“Please Ona, I want to touch you.”

Ona pulled back, licking her lips as she eyed up Lucy, almost annoyed that she had been interrupted. “No.” 

She moved back gripping Lucy's wrist tighter, making a point that she wasn't allowed to touch. 

The older brunette looked down at Ona as she gently rolled her hips into her girlfriend's mouth, her warm brown eyes burning into her own. She loved looking at Ona while the girl ate her out, she always looked amazing as her head bobbed between her legs, especially when she watched Lucy. 

Lucy gapped as her head rolled back, her body melting as the Spaniard's tongue danced on her clit. The younger brunette could see and hear Lucy getting close, her breathing picked up, her groaning became louder, bouncing off the tiles in the room. 

“Ona,” Lucy gasped.

This was another thing Ona loved. Lucy could speak multiple languages, she could give a speech to thousands and not stutter, her brain was full to the brim with facts and information. But when Ona was between her legs, the only words that fell from her lips was her girlfriend's name.

Her strong thighs began to shake, Ona moved her hand up Lucy's thigh, teasing her entrance with her finger. Lucy panted as she automatically opened her legs for Ona. The younger girl couldn't stop the groan as she dipped a single finger easily inside her girlfriend's wet cunt.

“Fuckkk. Yes, Ona… fuck.” Lucy gasped. 

Ona began to fuck Lucy with a rough steady pace, she easily slipped in her second digit. Her own eyes closed in pleasure hearing the way Lucy took her fingers. She couldn’t take her eyes off Lucy, her face was pure bliss. Ona loved having Lucy like this, at her complete mercy.

“You’re mine aren't you Lucy?” 

“Yes, yours. I’ll always be yours.” 

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Good.” 

Her cunt started to tighten around Ona’s fingers, Ona could feel she was about to come. Lucy couldn't hold in the loud gasps that fell from her mouth. Ona fucked and sucked her girlfriend as Lucys hips rolled with more purpose. That’s when her orgasm began to bolt through her body with a few more thrusts and the steady movements of Ona’s tongue Lucy was sent flying with Ona’s name bouncing off the walls in the room.

Her groan was loud, she shook against the thin walls making it rattle. Even Ona was shocked at how loud she was, but hearing her name fall from her girlfriend's lips was always a turn on, with or without trying to prove a point to Katie.

Lucy panted hard, her eyes were closed as her body tried to keep up with the pressure of her release. Ona licked the taller brunette gently, allowing her to feel her soft tongue as much as she needed to. Lucy's hips finally came to a slow stop, her eyes looked completely hazed as she smiled down at Ona. She finally released Lucy's wrist, she would have definitely left nail indents in her skin. 

“You okay?” Ona whispered as she stood up.

“Are you really asking that?” Lucy chuckled breathlessly.

The Spaniard smiled as she eyed up the dark marks that littered Lucy's neck and chest.

“Just checking.” 

Lucy brought her mouth to Ona’s, she groaned as she tasted herself on the shorter brunettes tongue. The kiss had started out slow but quickly turned heated and messy again, and Ona still held all the control. 

The Spaniard was still feeling that hot green jealousy sitting in her stomach, and Lucy could feel it, she wanted Ona to know that she was the only girl she wanted, she wanted her to feel as wanted as she made her.

“Show me how much you want me.” Ona whispered against Lucy's lips.

Lucy felt her head flood with arousal, she wasn't sure if it was her the mind blowing orgasm or Ona’s words that made her legs feel like jelly 

The taller girl got to her knees, and in between Ona’s legs, never once taking her eyes off of the younger brunnete. Lucy wouldn't admit this to many people, but she loved being dominated by the shorter brunette. There was something about Ona being in complete control that made Lucy completely lose herself to the younger girl. 

The warm shower water ran down her face, as she felt Ona’s fingers lace through her dark hair.

“Show me, Luce.” 

Lucy barely heard the words, but just by Ona’s desperate eyes she knew what she wanted. 

She allowed Ona to guide her head to her dripping sex. She slipped her tongue into Ona’s wet folds, a deep groan rumbled in the back of Lucy's throat as she gathered the taste of her girlfriend's essence on her tongue.

Ona let out a sharp hiss, as Lucy's strong tongue glided across her bundle of nerves. She had felt her clit throbbing since watching Lucy play, she could feel the pent up frustration and anger run through her veins, thinking about Lucy being with someone else. She knew Lucy didn’t want Katie or cared for her antics, but it didn’t mean she didn’t get a little hurt and self conscious. 

Lucy craned her neck, lapping her tongue through her lover's lips. She closed her eyes as Ona’s nails gently scratched through her scalp. She flicked her tongue over the peaking clit, then softly wrapped her lips around the sensitive flesh, earning her a delicious moan from above. She looked up at the younger brunette, her abs flexed as her body reacted to the sensation between her legs. Ona was already starting to pant above her. 

Ona was already losing her nerve, she dipped one hand into Lucy's hair, placing the other against the wall above her leaning herself forward, pining Lucy’s head against the cubicle wall.

Ona felt Lucy groan at the movement, she was in Ona’s complete control, she just had to kneel and watch as Ona used her mouth. 

“I love it when you do that with your tongue.” Ona gasped. 

Lucy had moved her tongue as deep as she could into Ona’s cunt, pushing at her sensitive muscles, then slowly stroking it back up to her awaiting clit. It was a move that always had Ona drenching her mouth, and today was no different. Lucy swallowed Ona’s juices as they dripped onto her tongue, drowning her taste buds.

“Lucyyy.”

Ona’s hips began to pick up pace, Lucy’s tongue was already nearing her to her peak. Ona gritted her teeth as she felt her climax rise, her hand in Lucy’s hair got tighter as she began to feel her orgasm.

Lucy groaned as Ona pulled her hair, fucking her face, the hot shower ran over their bodies but the cold chill that ran over Ona’s skin gave her goosebumps all over her body. Ona held Lucy's head, snaking her hips into her face, gently fucking her head against the cubicle wall. They were definitely making a lot of noise, they sounded like a porn set, there was no way they were going to be able to show their faces at this gym again.

“Lu…Lucy, keep sucking. Please.” Ona begged.

But a loud banging on their door interrupted them.

“This is a public space. It's really gross what you’re doing.” It was Katie's annoying voice.

Lucy’s eyes widened in panic, her hands gripped the younger brunette's thighs. But Ona didn't care, smiled dangerously down at Lucy, she didn't even stop her movements in Lucy's mouth, even if they were being called out for the public indecency. 

“Sorry, Lucy can’t answer you right now, her mouth's a little busy.” Ona groaned.

Lucy felt a rush of excitement crash through her body, she finaly put two and two together, her jealous girlfriend had done this on purpose, she wasn't even mad, she would have probably done the same thing. She winked up at Ona, knowing it would only push the girl further.

“That's it, keep going baby.” Ona smiled wickedly down at Lucy.

Lucy did exactly what her petite lover asked, she sucked on her throbbing clit just the way she liked. They stayed like this for a couple more minutes, Ona’s movements rocked gently against her mouth, until she started to feel Ona’s body shake against her face, she could tell she was close.

“Lucyyyy!” 

Lucy’s head was forced against the wall as the Spaniard’s orgasm took over her body. Ona’s hips fucked her mouth, causing a pornagraphic thudding noise with the back of Lucy's head. Lucy couldn't stop the groan as she felt Ona’s clit pulsate in her mouth. She stayed on Ona’s clit, gently sucking as her abs rolled above her. 

“Oh Déu meu.” Ona groaned. 

She stroked Lucy's hair as she slowly backed away, a dopey smile plastered her face as she looked down at the brunette.

“Fuck.” Lucy chuckled.

“Lu-,” 

“Excuse me, can you please gather your belongings and leave the premises, before we call the police.” The security guard shouted.

Both girls' eyes widened this time.

“Y-yeah, leaving now.”

The girls had never put clothes on quicker in their life. They grabbed their bags and walked out the shower room. They were greeted by a pissed off looking security guard and Katie, who looked even more pissed off.

“I’m sure you’re aware you're banned from here.” He grunted. 

“Yeah.” The girls said in unison. 

“Okay, please leave the premises.” 

The girls nodded, and began to walk away.

“What? That's it?” Katie gasped.

The security guard nodded, already bored of the situation. Ona looked back at Katie, she looked like a toddler that was about to have a breakdown, she stomped her foot and pouted.

“Bye, Katie. Try not to think of me fucking my girlfriend when you’re next in the showers.” Ona blew the blonde a kiss as she grabbed Lucy's hand.

Maybe Lucy could pick up a new sport.

[throatgoat4u]

hello, hello, hello, hello to all my lovely people out there. i wanna start of by saying happy valentines to every single one of you. whether you're single, in a relationship, or have just broken up, i hope you all enjoy this amazing day of love and share it with their loved ones.

today's not just about a romantic partner, but to people who you just love. tell your family how much you love and appreciate them for all they've done for you and if that's not an option, share your gratitude with your friends or people who have constantly been there for you and have made you feel loved.

do something kind for someone. give them a hug, write them a letter, compliment them, whatever. you don't have to make some big gesture or go all out, just let someone know you appreciate them.

but most importantly, make sure you love yourself. self love is just as, if not more, important than anything else. how are you supposed to put in your time and effort in loving someone else if you can't do that for yourself? so whether you want to go out and spoil yourself or stay in and take a nice bath and watch movies, make sure you're putting your love for yourself first.

but, loving yourself isn't just about spa days and self care (but like that shit's like amazing so like i definitely recommend a nice everything shower if you're not doing anything today.....) it's also about speaking to yourself kindly, forgiving yourself for past mistakes, and acknowledging that you deserve just as much love as everyone else on this amazing day!

now, that being said, i'm gonna spread all my love to some of the most amazing people on this app! (this is where my formality ends, trust 🤞)

@onevison. i literally love you so much omg. you are one of the nicest people ever and you're actually so creative with your aus. i love talking to you and always enjoy when we chat. i love you!

@freshloveee. you're so so so good at writing and genuinely one of my favorite writers on this app. you're honestly so sweet and kind. i love you!

@chrepsi. you're genuinely one of the funniest people on this app, i cannot. i love your vibe and your music taste is just so ugh. you're so cool. i love you!

@muwapsturniolo. so you're literally amazing?!?! like you're so gorgeous and funny and such an amazing writer. idek how many times i've reread your shit but it's too many to count. anywho..... when's the next album coming out sza????? i love you!

@leoslaboratory. i just binge read your fics last night btw. you're fucking amazing and i love everything you do. dealer!chris is amazing and i absolutely love it. your fics for black history month are eating btw. i love you!

@phone4pills. so so so cool. you're theme is so cool, you're fics are so cool, you are so cool. i'm genuinely sooo happy anytime i've seen that you've posted a new fic or something and am always looking forward to when you write more. i love you!

@mattscoquette. you're just sooooo like awesome. i love everything you write and i love scrolling through watching you answer asks cause you're so funny. i'm still heartbroken over a change of heart (and the fact that you've ruined that song for me 💔). also like petition to bring back my man perv!matt. he doesn't get the love he deserve. anyways, when i was lurking here, i would always stalk your page and you were the first person i found on sturniolo tumblr. you were genuinely such an inspiration for me and one of the biggest reasons i started posting what i write. i love you!

@thenickgirl. you're my favorite nick girl out there. i love how you write for him and give him the attention he absolutely deserves. just cause he's gay doesn't mean we should leave him out guys 😞💔. you're such an amazing writer and you're so funny. i love you!

@t0riiiis. you're literally like so relatable and i feel like i can always talk to you without getting bored. you're there for me and you've shown your love for me countless times and i cannot even begin to say how much it means to me. i love you!

@oopsiedaisydeer. i'm sooo happy that we're like friends now because you're such a nice and cool person. you're an amazing writer and i love when i see updates on your ponyo au. you're so sweet and show me so much support on literally everything. i love you!

@bernardsbendystraws. dare i say that you're the mother of sturniolo tumblr?!?! you're genuinely such and amazing and funny person and make the tumblr fandom a much better place. i love how during that whole pedo scandal, you were there for absolutely every single person and were so helpful in the whole ordeal. you aren't scared of what anyone says about you and you're so confident, it's so admirable (this also goes for @muwapsturniolo, cause if i recall correctly she called her workplace or something like that which is honestly a boss ass move). your writing is also just amazing and never disappoints. you're like a breath of fresh air (that sounded better in my head but it's okay). i love you!

and i've saved the best for last, @snoopychris. idek what to say. like i'm being serious. i love you so much and you're my absolute favorite person on here. i love being able to talk to you everyday and ik you'll be there to listen without judgement. you're so funny (and a bit odd) and i love you for it. you're genuinely like a big sister to me in a way and i just feel like talking to you makes my day. whether it's about an au or just yapping (or saying some weird shit about chris) it always makes my day just so much better. i literally trust you soooo much even if we’ve only known each other for a short time. like when i say i trust you, i mean like i TRUST you. atp, i trust you enough to know what my face looks like, my actual name, and other personal info. like genuinely i feel so comfortable talking to you and you never fail to make me happy! you're such a fun person and so creative. also you're writing?!?! i literally love it. i love you 🧠!

obviously there are so many other people who i absolutely love, adore, and cherish with my whole heart, but these people stick out to me! anyways, i love you guys so much and am so thankful for everyone's constant support. i'm so happy with all the new friends i've made on this app and am looking forward to making many many many more! with lots of love...

toodles sluts :)

(i felt it was necessary to bring back sluts for this post...)

also the fact that i actually wrote that shit at the top from my heart impresses me….. like what?!?!

also one last note, if there’s some misspelled words or i’m just repeating myself like an idiot, please note that its still early and even tho i woke up over an hour ago, im still like half asleep

[theamberfist]

How I Met Her Mother | Tighnari x Reader

Romantic: Tighnari x Collei's Parent! Reader

(Notes: none) (gender neutral reader) (reader is Collei's adoptive parent)

Description:

When Paimon and the traveler discover Tighnari's ties with Collei's adoptive parent, he begins to reminisce about their past together.

Tighnari watched from outside his hut as you walked with Collei on the path below, smiling and chatting comfortably in the afternoon light. He took note of how your eyes seemed to sparkle, and how genuinely relaxed you seemed.

The sight, which was becoming more and more rare by the day, made his lips curve up into a soft smile. For as long as he'd known you, he'd found that seeing you happy happened to be his favorite thing, and now was no exception to that.

He recalled the letters you'd sent to him in Gandharva Ville just a few months prior, wincing at how anxious and worried you had seemed back them. Of course, there were plenty of reasons to feel that way in Sumeru these days, but something about seeing you that way had always gotten to him in ways that other people's fears never had. He didn't want you to have to worry, even if the feeling was very much warranted.

That was why he had ultimately suggested you move to Gandharva Ville, hoping it would at least ease your worries a little. Luckily, it seemed to be helping so far. If nothing else, it meant you could be closer to Collei all the time, which made you feel a lot better.

"Tighnari, hello?" A high pitched voice startled him out of his wandering thoughts, and he turned to see Paimon floating out of his hut with the traveler following behind her.

"What is it, Paimon?" He sighed, crossing his arms and glancing back towards where you and Collei had stopped walking to take a seat on a couple of rocks next to the river below.

"Paimon was just going to tell you we're ready to head out, but you seem distracted." The pixie replied, floating closer and following his gaze to where you and the green haired girl were sitting. "Who is that?" She pointed at you, and Tighnari quickly looked away, both to hide the hint of pink in his face and to prevent himself from continuing to stare. Once he felt he'd recovered, he turned back to the pair calmly and pushed himself to stand up from the wall he'd been leaning against.

"Oh, they're Collei's adoptive parent," he explained, "They recently moved to Gandharva Ville to be closer to her and help with her Eleazar."

"Her adoptive parent?" Paimon repeated, "But they don't look any older than you!" He chuckled at this, knowing you got that a lot. You always had the best responses when people commented on how young you looked for someone who was the parent of a teenager. Usually it was something like 'yeah, I moisturize' or 'then it seems my sacrifices for eternal youth have been working.' Unfortunately, Tighnari wasn't quite as creative as you.

"They aren't," He replied simply, "But when Cyno brought her back from Mondstat after she was freed from Dottore, Y/n was the one that stepped up to help her, despite being fairly young themselves. They've been caring for her ever since."

"They seem very kind," Aether smiled, "I hope we get to meet them soon."

"I'm sure you will," Tighnari replied simply, "But we should get going now. Those withering zones aren't going to destroy themselves." With that, he headed down the wooden bridge and began leading the way towards their target area, happy to have been able to change the subject.

Although he didn't mind talking about you and especially the kind things you'd done for Collei and everyone else in Gandharva Ville, it was also a blatant reminder that he still had yet to tell you the truth about his feelings, something he preferred to avoid thinking about.

Unfortunately, it seemed Paimon's curiosity about the topic of you still had yet to be satiated as the three of them made their way to the first withering zone.

"You seem to know Collei's parent pretty well Tighnari!" She chirped, completely ignorant to his embarrassment when it came to talking about you, "How did you two meet, anyway?"

"How did we meet?" He repeated, a warm feeling enveloping him as the old memories surfaced. "It's a long story, but I suppose I could tell it. We have time now, after all." With that, he took in a breath before starting at the beginning.

..........

You and Tighnari had both been students of the Amurta Darshan of the Akademiya. You had one or two classes together, but ended up interacting very little since his studies focused more on plants and nature while yours revolved around medicine.

But that all changed one day when he had been injured while doing some field research for a project. He was brought into the infirmary and you, who had been participating in a work-study under the nurse there, were the one to treat him.

Though Tighnari couldn't remember the details of his visit very well anymore, he still vividly recalled how kind you had been to him. Even though he had very obviously been injured due to his own stubbornness and refusal to wait to finish the assignment, you had been very patient while helping him heal. When he looked at you, there had been no judgement in your eyes, only a strong desire to help.

"I'm Y/n." You'd introduced yourself upon entering the room, "I don't care how you ended dup here; what matters is that you get better now. I'm still an apprentice, but I'll do my best to help you."

Since the Akademiya's environment tended to be so hostile, that was the kindest anyone had been to him since his arrival, and it really stuck out to him.

Even after he was able to leave the infirmary, the two of you had decided to keep in touch. Since you were part of the same Darshan, it wasn't difficult, either. You often studied together, ran into one another in the halls, or attended the same school events. The more time you two spent together, the more you found yourselves getting along, and the more time he wanted to spend with you.

He could vividly remember graduating with you and Cyno, and how bittersweet that day had been.

Yes, it was everything you'd worked for over the last years spent at the Akademiya. But it also meant you'd all be going your separate ways, and that he might not get to see you again for a while.

Even though you promised to keep in touch, he knew your visits would be infrequent now that you were moving to the desert to practice medicine there.

And for a while, he was right.

..........

When Cyno showed up in Gandharva Ville with Collei, it had been during one of the rare occasions where you were visiting.

At first, Tighnari had been a little irritated at the interruption. That was, until you both saw the little girl that the matra had brought with him. He'd never seen a child look so scarred and fearful before, and it must have touched your heart as much as it did his, because then you were pulling Cyno aside and demanding to know what had happened.

He hadn't planned on bringing you into the situation originally, taking Collei to Gandharva Ville to ask Tighnari if he'd be willing to look after her instead. But as soon as you heard everything the girl had gone through, you insisted on being the one to look after her.

Tighnari had always admired how caring you were, and your insistence on being the one to help Collei had only further proved to him how wonderful of a person you were.

You ended up extending your stay in Gandharva Ville after that, which he was so far from being opposed to that it was almost laughable.

As he'd expected, you and Collei bonded a great deal during that time, and within just a few weeks, she seemed to be doing a lot better. She went up and tugged on Cyno's cloak one day, catching his attention when he'd been reading a book.

"What is it, Collei?" He asked softly, bending down to the girl's level.

"C-can I stay with Y/n?" She asked, pointing to where you stood in the distance, bandaging up a wounded forest ranger. Cyno's face softened.

"Of course, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you help them out for the day."

"No," Collei shook her head, trying to find the words to explain her feelings, "I want to stay with them all the time." Now the white haired man understood what she was implying, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You mean you want Y/n to adopt you?" He asked, to which she nodded eagerly. He smiled, standing back up and motioning for her to follow him. "I'm sure they'd be happy to take you in. Come on, let's go ask them."

And the rest was history. You, of course, gladly adopted Collei. For a while, you lived in Gandharva Ville with her because it seemed to be the place that made her the happiest. You even fought with your employer to let you commute to work in Sumeru City if it meant you could raise her there, and they eventually gave in.

Those were the years Tighnari remembered being the happiest; when you were nearby and happy yourself.

Somewhere down the line, he ended up becoming Collei's mentor. She had a love for the forest and the people around her, as well as a thirst for knowledge that he was happy to nurture.

As she got older, you started to feel like you might be stifling her, and eventually moved to Sumeru City in an attempt to both make your own life easier and give her the space she needed to continue growing. You constantly wrote to and visited both her and Tighnari though, and were always checking in as well.

..........

It was only when Collei's Eleazar got worse that you finally moved back to Gandharva Ville to support her, and times had been tough ever since.

Tighnari could tell the stress was taking a huge toll on you, even if you tried not to let her see that. Plus, going back and forth to Sumeru City for work every day to do an already taxing job wasn't easy.

As much as he had wanted to confess all his feelings to you the second you moved back to Gandharva Ville, it wasn't the right time. So instead, he'd kept it inside. He didn't want to stress you out any further; he couldn't do that to you. If it meant saving you even just a little bit of worry, he was willing to keep his feelings inside for as long as it might take.

Now, he returned to his hut in Gandharva Ville, glancing over to Collei's to see you exiting with a smile on your face, presumably having just said goodnight to her. As soon as you turned away though, it fell into a frown as you started the walk back to your own hut.

You spotted Tighnari on the way though, smiling again as you waved at him. He waved back, a melancholy feeling taking over him. Finally, he turned to go back into his own hut.

'I wish I could take all your worries away.'

..........

Part 2

Part 3

[cheeriecherrymain]

papa!Viktor blurb, anyone?

A/N: slowly, slowly, recovering from the creative drought ive been in

it's nowhere near a waterfall again, more like a frustrating dribble, BUT. It's something. But anyways, here is a Papa Viktor Thought Blurb (listen, my sister is almost three months old now, and I am so besotted with her, she's my favourite tiny person, and i am full of Caretaker Feelings)

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI (not explicit, but very very suggestive), afab!Reader, pregnancy, labour and birth (again, not explicit, but still with some depth), papa!Viktor, no beta no editing we simply die

Imagine Viktor, and him believing he'll be alone for his entire life - working so hard to make some kind of legacy for himself, putting everything he has into his creations and his machines. Every calculation, every experiment a labour of love.

This is how the world will remember his name.

At least, he hopes.

But then he meets you.

You're charming, he has to admit. You make friends wherever you go, and you have a weird habit of bringing people out of their shells. There's just...something about you that makes others want to bare their souls to you. Something that draws people in.

Like you have a tangible sort of gravity, and wherever you go, someone ends up in your orbit.

He won't mean much to you, he thinks, after conversing with you a couple times. You're creative, like he is, and you're enjoyable to talk to. But nothing more. Sooner or later, you'll continue on somewhere else, making waves and drawing attention. And in your wake, he will be left to sink. It's what expects.

Except...

You don't leave.

Your chats start out small. Short and sweet, a How are you today? wondered whenever you pass each other in the halls a couple times a month, curious about the goings-on of his life.

He never has anything interesting to tell you about. No adventures or tales to tell, nothing beyond the walls of a cramped and cluttered office.

You must be bored, he thinks.

But then you start seeking him out. Instead of just catching up for a couple minutes whenever you happen to walk past each other, you hunt him down in his office - and god, he wasn't lying when he'd told you it was cramped.

You're amazed he even has the space to think in there, with how tight it is. Yet you still shimmy yourself into the tiny room, careful not to disturb any piles of papers, and find a careful seat on a spot of open floor beside his desk. There's no room for a second chair, and you've always made it clear that you dislike standing when you're having a long conversation.

It's nice to sit down and rest somewhere together, you'd told him one time.

You grow closer after that. From seeing him a couple times a month, to a couple times a week, to literally every day. You don't seem to care that he never has anything 'exciting' to share with you, even going so far as to chastise him for calling himself uninteresting.

Your experiments are cool, you'd insisted, while leafing through one of his old journals. It's incredible to get to see how your mind works, and how creative and inventive you are. You have so many ideas, Viktor, and I really believe that they could help people.

Something changes in him, after that. He'd always been quieter around you, listening to your stories, and dutifully answering your questions: never quite letting you in.

Now he looks forward to seeing you.

His heart skips a beat every time he hears you knocking on his office door, a chipper little pattern reserved only for him. You know that he doesn't always like dealing with students after hours, so you'd come up with a way to let him know that it was you who was greeting him.

Things progress...surprisingly natural.

He's not subtle by any means, even if he thinks he is. The moment he realizes that he has feelings for you, all bets are off. His cheeks dust pink whenever you're around, his palms get sweaty and he fidgets, and the staring.

Looking at you with ill-contained admiration and affection.

You can't not kiss him.

You spend the next couple years having the time of your lives. Moving from classes and overbearing internships, to actively working on experiments. Collaborating with each other, drawing up ideas and debating functionality and form. The two of you get so heated when you're creating things together.

Neither of you are surprised when it devolves. Wide gestures and hasty chalkboard sketches, impassioned explanations and wild eyes - you bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over him, in all his dishevelled beauty. Hair a mess, tie crooked and loose, shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Many nights are spent like that, cooped up in his little laboratory, surrounded by sketches and blueprints and scribbles and stray notes. His fingertips digging into the soft of your skin as he kisses the breath out of you. The rhythmic clunking of his crooked desk most telling, as he draws forth your little squeaks and sighs of delight.

Absolutely ruining you, filling you, stretching you open. Feeling the way you tremble in his hands, held tight to his slender body as he reaches so deep into you that you'll feel him for days.

Sinking his teeth into the side of your neck when he finds his own release - to stay quiet, he tells you. But you both know it's his way of marking you.

Claiming you.

You're his. You're his person, his love, his partner. Your eyes only ever shine the way they do when you look at him.

Your body, splayed out and spread before him, quivering and gasping and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - his.

Your taste, sweet on his tongue - your mouth, your skin, your arousal that drips out of you whenever he so much as looks at you.

His.

And he knows, without a single atom of doubt, that he's also yours. So entirely entangled with each other, neither of you knowing how you'd managed to exist separately before now.

How had you possibly found beauty in every day, when you'd never heard his voice? Never caught a whiff of his sweet shampoo as he ambled past you? Never felt the warmth of his touch, or the puff of his sighs on your cheek? Never known the tickle of his hair on your bare skin as you slowly woke every morning to find him curled around you, his face smashed into your back and soft snores emanating from him?

No matter, you think. You have him now, and that's what's important.

...until everything changes.

You miss a period.

You tell him about it.

You're both on edge, but he tries to remain optimistic. Cycles can be upset sometimes, he tells you, as if you don't already know. (You're certain he's really just trying to reassure himself.)

But deep down, you know.

You can feel it in the all-encompassing tiredness you wake with every morning. In the random bouts of nausea, and the sudden food aversions. The back aches, and all the sudden new smells you can detect.

You know something is amiss.

And he knows, too, when he finds you one time in the middle of the night. Standing in your shared little kitchen, in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the open refrigerator.

Pulling pickles straight out of the jar, dipping them in mayonnaise, and sinking your teeth into them. Like they were to most delectable thing you'd ever ingested.

You're both terrified, of course.

You're not really surprised that you've managed to fall pregnant - not with the way you two lust after each other practically every night, and sometimes in the morning. Maybe even once or twice in between meetings, when you're both squished together in his compact office.

Neither of you ever thought you'd become parents.

And certainly not right now.

But...you want this, you realize. You want this with him. You want a family with him, you want the evidence of your love - you want a future with him, and you want to see what beautiful little person you'll make together.

Would they have his eyes? Yours? He hopes they have your smile, he tells you, eventually.

It takes you by surprise, his words, what with how quiet he'd been since you'd both figured everything out. You'd been worrying that he wasn't really on board with keeping the baby - with being a father. And you hadn't blamed him, really.

You'd been beyond stressed at the idea of raising a child alone. The thought of him leaving you, leaving behind something so intrinsically tied to him, had been slowly breaking your heart. You hadn't wanted him to stay simply out of obligation - you know you wouldn't be able to cope with the eventual resentment that such an action would breed.

But to know for certain now that he'd only been anxious?

That he wanted this with you, and was excited?

You're so happy that you immediately burst into tears, squeaking and sniffling and snotting uncontrollably while Viktor bites back a laugh and herds you into his embrace. Stroking your back and murmuring the sweetest things to you while you try to catch your breath, leaving gentle kisses all over your face.

Telling you all about what kind of person he hoped your little one would be.

Your smile, most certainly, he said, resolute. You have the most beautiful smile. You light up the room wherever you go. Maybe your sense of humour, too. And certainly your compassion.

Your tears slowly began to lessen, as you let yourself be lulled by the comfort of his arms around you.

Your hair, though, you insist, smushing your face into his shirt. You look so pretty in the mornings, all fluffed up and in disarray. It's the cutest shit I've ever seen.

That garners a laugh from him.

I want them to have your eyes, as well, you admit, albeit somewhat shyly. I've never seen a colour like yours, so intense and complex. Way back when we first met, and you looked at me for the very first time? I almost lost the ability to breathe. It was...it was like I knew, right then. That you were the person I wanted to spend my life with.

He squeezes you a little bit tighter, stooping down to tenderly slot your lips together. Slow, lazy, intimate. Sharing breath and warmth and love and-

He takes you again.

Right there, in the dim quiet of his office, not seeming to care if anyone passing by in the hallway might hear you. Spoiling you absolutely rotten, speaking praises against your skin as he brings you over the edge again and again and again.

Pupils blown wide as he sinks his fingers into you, crooking them perfectly as to reach the spots he knows will drive you mad. The papers strewn around the room don't matter - they don't even cross his mind, as you wriggle and squirm and quiver and cry out for him.

How could they, when all he can focus on is the way you look when your body tenses up, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, culminating in your lovely little noises, and the addicting feeling of your pleasure dripping down his fingers and over his palm, soaking him thoroughly.

He would be happy to have you like this, as frequently as you would let him.

He knows how sensitive you must be by now, not only from his ministrations, but also from the way your body is changing. He's done his fair amount of reading since discovering your pregnancy - he's aware of all the ways you might be feeling.

The hunger, the exhaustion, the aches and pains.

The all-encompassing, single-minded lust you might go through.

He's ready to please you, however you might want - his fingers, his mouth. And whenever you might want. You could wake him up in the middle of the night, for all he cares. You could nudge him from the sleep that he so desperately needs, and he'd ask not a single question besides What do you need, darling? How would you like me?

What he doesn't expect is his own desire.

You're beautiful. You always have been beautiful. Even as things change, he was absolutely certain that you would never stop being beautiful.

It's you, so of course he's going to want you.

But seeing you now, whining and looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky, specifically for you? Your tummy already growing round with the life that you've made together, visible proof of your love? Desperate whimpers falling past your lips, begging him for more, for him to fill you up again and again and again?

He can't resist you.

Even when he starts to ache, and his arms start shaking, and his throat is raw and dry from breathing hard and calling out for you.

He can't resist you.

You're insatiable.

So is he.

He's a little more careful as the months progress. Manhandling you less, digging his fingers into the soft fat of your hips a little gentler. He's cognizant of how you're most comfortable, watching in awe as you tremble on top of him, grinding down on him and taking his entire length into you like you were made specifically for him.

Nearly every day, you beg for him.

He loves you.

And when the time eventually comes for you to waddle carefully into the labour centre, meeting your midwife along the way, Viktor tries to keep his worrying quiet. Tries to stay by your side as a supportive pillar, regardless of how well or not he might actually be able to hold you up.

Holding your hand, kissing your knuckles. Trading his fingers for a stress ball when you squeeze a little too hard (and then another stress ball, stronger this time, when the first one explodes in your fist after a couple minutes. It shocks both of you, but to his surprise, you start laughing).

He tenderly dabs the sweat off your forehead as the hours go by, keeping your hairs from pasting themselves to your face and neck. Staying nearby as a source of comfort, but not so close that you feel smothered by him - allowing you the space you need to wiggle around as you see fit.

Telling you stories to distract you, listening to your complaints and observations as his words become unable to mask the pain of your contractions. Doing his absolute best to bite back a fond grin as you breathlessly curse him for doing this to you.

I didn't mean it, you tell him, as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes wide and tearful with sorrow.

I know, he promises, leaning forward to press his lips to your dewy skin.

You sigh happily.

It's not for another couple hours that your baby finally decides to enter the world.

You're beyond exhausted, and Viktor is starting to get fidgety with his worry. Is it supposed to be taking this long? he wonders internally, keeping his questions to himself so as not to stress you out even more.

The midwives, to their credit, are incredibly skilled. Staying by your side throughout the whole process, carefully monitoring everything they need to in order to make sure you're healthy. That the baby is healthy. He knows that they would say something, if anything was truly wrong.

And when the little one finally arrives, she does so kicking and screaming, making an absolute ruckus in the quiet room. The door is shut tight, keeping the sounds of the busy establishment at bay, and the curtain is drawn for your privacy so no one can see in when the staff come and go.

But when your girl begins shouting her absolute displeasure into the air, Viktor swears he can hear some quiet clapping and cheering from the hallway. He doesn't know if it's for your success, or for something and someone else entirely - but for a moment, he likes to believe that there are some strangers out there who are happy for him.

They don't know his story, and they don't know yours - but they've heard a great cry from somewhere hidden and full of struggle. An all-encompassing wail that confirms the presence of life, shouting to the world I am here, I am alive, and I have absolutely no idea what's going on!

He doesn't know when the tears start trailing down his cheeks.

Perhaps it's when he first lays eyes on your girl, pink and cranky and a little bit squished. Putting up a fuss on your base chest, scrunching her little face up as you speak softly and tenderly to her.

Perhaps it's when one of the midwives hands him a very soft towel, instructing him on how to carefully pat away the blood and fluid still clinging to your child. His eyes growing wide when he oh so gently cleans her off to reveal more of her tiny features.

She's still new, and needs time to decompress (so to speak), but he stares at her with such rapture. Taking in every inch of her, burning her face into his mind so that he might never forget her. Ever.

She's still new, and yet he can already tell that she has your nose. And your lips. Your smile, he realizes, with a palpable joy spreading through his chest.

His tears eventually dry, if only so he's able to better see you and the newest member of your family. Laying kiss after kiss to whatever part of your skin he can reach. Stroking the tips of his fingers over your girl's hair - her tiny arms and shoulders, her chubby cheeks, the bridge of her nose and over her brows.

But some two hours later, when you're finally allowed to rest in your comfortable hospital bed: when your baby is now dry and fed and swaddled up happily in Viktor's arms?

The tears begin again.

Privately, in the dim of the room, while you snooze a couple feet away from him, he weeps. Silently, and without so much as a sniffle. He cannot stop the wetness that rolls down his face, even if he wanted to.

Your girl is finally relaxed, after her grand, dramatic entrance. On the edge of sleep, warm and with a full tummy, making funny little expression while she dozes.

Much to Viktor's delight, she has a head of fuzzy brown hair - dishevelled and sticking in every direction, not matter how the midwives had tried to tame it. It'll settle down in a few days, they'd promised. But he didn't care.

The wild mop on top of her head rivalled the chaos of his own. The same shade of chestnut, though perhaps less coarse in texture. Maybe it will grow to the same thickness eventually, he thinks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagines how much he's going to have to help her with it as she grows.

Brushing the inevitable tangles out with a soft brush. Pulling the strands back into braids so she can run around and play easier - or maybe little buns on the top of her head, he realizes, the image conjuring up in his mind.

All at once, pictures pop through his head, so vivid and bright that he can almost see them appearing in front of him.

Watching your daughter grow. Sleepless nights of taking care of her, catering to her every whim. Making sure she's fed, and comfortable - entertaining her with silly little toys that make silly little noises, bright colours painted across them. Reading her books with bright, enticing visuals for her to stare at, despite the fact that she doesn't know what words are.

Making trinkets for her as she gets a little older. Things that help her learn, but that also keep her excited and enticed, encouraging her exploration of the world around her. Teaching her to walk, by helping her strengthen her little legs. Sitting on a footstool, a wide smile on his face, as you hold her by her arms and support her as she figures out how to use her legs while upright. Leading her right over into his waiting arms.

Until she's able to balance on her own, after a number of weeks of practising together. Pushing herself up into a wobbly stance, doing her absolute best to try and balance. Maybe she stumbles a couple of times, but she's persistent -stubborn, like he is- and continuously rises back up until she's able to make it over to him on her own. Giggling and wiggling when he scoops her up and praises her and showers he in affection.

Teaching her about anything and everything, the bigger she gets. Answering every question she has, no matter how confusing or senseless - encouraging with his own suggestions, and prompting her to discover some answers for herself. Putting together little experiments for her, so they can learn together and so he can watch her eyes widen with the joy of new information.

Fixing her toys for her whenever they break, as she brings them to him with misty eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Papa, it fell apart, she says sadly. To which he pulls her onto his lap, regardless of what work he was doing, and helps her repair the damage. Letting her watch and observe when she's still too small to hold a screwdriver, and carefully explaining things to her when her motor skills start to develop more.

And then helping her figure out in what way her toy broke, when she's a little bigger. Asking specific questions, so she can work to connect all the dots herself. Helping her gather the materials that she needs in order to fix things herself, and praising her to the high heavens when she presents the finished product to him.

The little thing is slightly lopsided, but he fully believes that it adds to its charm - tells her as such, when she sighs about it not being the same as before.

It's a little uneven, just like me, he says, with a laugh.

And, much to his complete shock, she wraps her little arms around him, and gives him her strongest possible squeeze.

It adds to your charm, she parrots back to him with complete honesty. I like you, Papa.

And once again, for the umpteenth time throughout his daughter's life, his eyes well with tears and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She could go anywhere she wanted, once she grew up. Learn anything, do anything, be anything. Perhaps she'd enjoy the sciences, like he does - machinery, and building, and designing, and inventing. Maybe she'd get into art, and spend her days painting or sketching, or writing, or making music - inspiring other people with the things she makes.

It doesn't matter, though. Because no matter what she ends up enjoying, or where she goes in her life, Viktor will support her with his entirety. Even when she grows all the way up, and inevitably leaves home to begin her own life, whatever that may be.

He knows he's going to cry then, too. So many years together, and yet it will still never be enough.

But for now, he sighs, staring adoringly down at the tiny infant in his arms. For now, they have time. He vows silently to never waste a single moment with her, and never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. No matter how busy or frustrated or tired he gets, he won't let her grow up feeling unwanted or unloved or unimportant.

He'll give her a better life than he grew up with, and that is both a promise and a threat.

After all, he would do anything, for her.

His greatest creation.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Part 19: ~

Day After Day:

As someone who has been in hospital for a week, I highly recommend not to do that. I bored myself to literal tears.

TW: Hospital. Hospital equipment.

Part 20:

As Innes stood in line at the ground floor cafe, Roy found himself in WHSmiths, looking for something to take back for Cait and Maidie. The problem was that there was almost too much to look at. First, he thought a key chain for them before thinking that wasn't good enough. A stationary set would be good before he remembered he got them a pair last year for their birthdays.

Eventually, the quest for something landed Roy in front of a shelf of diaries. His attention turned from the girls to himself. He took a plain black covered book and flipped through the pages. Enough lines between each day. An idea came to mind as he picked up two more diaries and a pen for himself.

If they were going to be here a while, then Roy, even if he knew his writing wasn't creative, wasn't going to just sit on his arse twiddling his thumbs all day.

Day 1: Visiting Hours was packed. Jennifer came to see Addair. Good weather. Addair stayed with Tommy all day. I don't think he's eaten. Slept in the corridors. Staff allowed it when they saw Rennick, who wanted a 'chat.' Jennifer left after an hour.

Day 2: Couldn't find Muir for twenty minutes. He slept on the roof. Police were called. They left as soon as they saw him. Caz and Innes laughed them out of the car park. Still don't know who called. Addair hasn't left Tommy's room. Still not eaten.

Day 3: Newspapers keep showing up. Everyone looks like they want to knock their teeth out. Even I do. Hospital staff refuse to let them inside and search for Addair. No one's talking to them. People keep coming up to us and asking if the 'infected' are real. Apparently, they're puppets until they get to touch them. Can't blame them. I would have, too, if I wasn't there.

Day 4: Addair's left Tommy's room. Nurses washed Tommy's hair today and changed his bedding. No one has figured out Trots is infected. He called Simon today. They clearly miss each other. Had to keep it discreet, though.

Day 5: It's not been good. Gibbo tried to give Addair food, but he couldn't keep it in. He finally snapped and cried for hours tonight round the back. I can still hear him now from the hallway. I think Gibbo is still with him. He needs to get away for a few hours. Gonna talk to Caz about it.

Day 6: We all went into London. Rennick told Addair that Tommy will still be here when we get back, awake or not. That convinced him. Got some good pictures in the usual sightseeing spots. We stayed clear of Queenie's home. Not gonna check if those rifles the guards carry are real or not.

Day 6's entry continued over two more dates.

More people came up to us, and others fled. Can't be surprised. I think the countryside really is best for the lads. The city is cramped when you're not in a park. Rennick and Trots finally had a McDonalds. The look on their faces said it all. Not impressed. Beginning to get paranoid. Who's a local, and who's the newspapers stalking us?

Had to go and get some more clothing. I offered to stay outside with Rennick, Muir, Gibbo, and Addair. Rennick looked at me like I shat in his sink and reminded me that he's not a child. Fair enough. Why are bell bottom jeans everywhere? Didn't take Innes to be a man who'd wear them.

Day 7: Jennifer came and sat with Addair until the staff had to politely remind her that visiting hour was over three hours ago. Addair didn't like that. No one would. I think the staff are warming up to us being here. They're starting to chat with us when they can. Everyone else made phone calls home. I shared Caz's time with Suze. I still don't know if my mum and sister want anything to do with me.

Day 8: Weather took a bad turn. Rained for hours. Stayed inside the cafe and got to know more of the long-term residents. One bloke has had his eye removed from a workplace accident. Showed me the hole and all. Somehow, that made me squirm over when I saw Trots last month.

Day 9: I had a nightmare where I was infected. I can't remember much, but, for some reason, I had turned into something. A crab? Only my face was infused to the back? I can't describe it, but it also felt like it was real. I thank God every day that I was able to be myself. I wonder if Addair worries what will happen when Tommy sees him.

Addair watched the sun set. A sense of melancholy that stained the air. It had slowly been creeping into his mind and seeping into reality, and he could feel a sense of never-ending dread. The nurse's words of hope were now starting to feel like a lie. Every day, the monitors beeped, yet nothing changed. It was exhausting.

'Do you remember when I dragged you to George's first cricket practice? He whacked the ball, and it hit you square in the face. Ended up falling off the brick wall. I don't think you spoke to George for weeks,' Addair weakly chuckled. 'Then you gave him your front tooth for his birthday as payback. Put it in his card. Mum grounded you for days and took you out of football, but you had no regrets. You never have.' He squeezed his son's hand. 'He misses you. We all miss you. And when you wake up, I'll put you right back into football. You'll like that, aye?'

Addair bit his lip before curling them in. He took a deep breath that became a shudder. His grip tightened, and his throat went dry. Lowering his head onto the bed, Addair closed his eyes but told himself not to fall asleep.

A twitch. A small twitch of the fingers, followed by movement under the eyelids, then a quickening of breath, and finally, a squeeze of the hand. Addair slowly looked up with a face that turned from confusion to shock. He thought he had imagined it until he felt another squeeze on his hand. The heart monitor grew louder. The ventilator quickened. A pair of blue eyes flickered to life, greeted by the blazing white lights above, making him wince. Their head turned, meeting Addair, who was frozen with a smile slowly forming on his face. There was no reaction to his appearance, just a whimper that couldn't form words, but if it did, it would say, 'Dad?'

Tommy was awake.

[agentoffangirling]

The Miraculous movie is x10 better than the show will ever be and I'll stand by that

Like, okay, here's the thing: Miraculous is the type of show that can only go on for so long. It's a superhero show, fundamentally, and so while the premise allows for so much creativity, the team behind it does not seem interestred in letting those possibilities play out. This leads to many of the episodes bring constantly repeated. The plot of every episode can be summed up with:

Marinette schemes to get Adrien/generally anything Adrien related, someone (differs on whether or not it's connected to her) gets akumaized, Ladybug and Chat Noir show up, Chat Noir usually ends up getting hurt in some way, Lucky Charm, everything gets fixed, Marinette learns a lesson. With the exception of a few episodes, this is the format they all do

And technically, that's not a bad thing as long as you make it enjoyable to watch. Your characters can learn and grow, becoming completely different people by the end. But as we've acknowledged, the MLB team doesn't want to do that

Chloe was set up for a redemption arc in season 2. She was on track to becoming genuinely likeable and a good person, straying from the bully role. What does Astruc do? Make her into an even worse villain bc she's "unredeemable"

Even though. She is a literal CHILD

Marinette, dear god, hasn't changed a single bit since s1. She's with Adrien now, yes, but still retains all her obsessive qualities and goes stalker mode whenever she sees Adrien hanging out with another girl (see Sublime). I see changes in Ladybug, but I hardly ever see that with Marinette. And it pains me so so much that they don't give her a chance to grow

And do I even NEED to go on about how it's been six seasons and multiple specials and STILL they don't know their identities?? Give it a rest!

Most people in the fandom fully recognize this and acknowledge that the only reason they watch it now is to see what happens, not necessarily because it's a good show

So yes, the Miraculous movie, with all of its cheesy lines and not-synced-up-singing, will always be better to me, imo, shows that Miraculous should've either ended a while ago or just had a movie series (3-4)

I suppose it's because Astruc had little involvement in it, bc Mari and Adrien (he has a personality now!! /lh) show themselves to be better people by the end. Gabriel here is just a broken father who wants to save his family‌, as opposed to series!Gabriel who is more than happy to kill his own son bc he's obsessed with his wife. Chloe is Chloe, but she's less superficial, and gives the vibe of actually being redeemed rather than toying with it

I would also argue that it being a musical works perfectly for the genre but I do wish they made that a bit more clear since so many were taken aback by it

Not to mention that the animation is GORGEOUS!! Every still and shot from this movie shows that it was made with love and care, down to the dust collecting on the benches in the sun (I could go on a whole thing on its own about the lighting, it is stunninggggg)

Just look at this asgycoitxruxxitcit

Oh, and props for solving the love square much faster. That is how it should be done

Point is, the Miraculous movie allows for proper growth and character building while the series is a train that's running low on track. I wouldn't say that we need a whole franchise of this, bc that would give us the exact same problems, but hey, a few movies? I would be totally for that

[onskepa]

Left behind: Prologue

Here is the first of many chapters for the long awaited series! Enjoy!

Left behind series

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

Jake’s pov

Earth has always been our home. Us, humans. And like parasites, we leeched off of our provider. Always wanting more and never getting our fill. And now, what made us humans, is dying. There is little to no chance of saving it. 

As earth dies, so does the human spirit. Over mass population, consumption, greed. It is clearly taking a toll on all of us. Whenever something pure, something untouched is found, the greed of humanity taints it. Corrupt it. 

As is the youth of our children. 

With what hopes and dreams the kids have are instantly killed. The adults are blunt and cut throat in telling kids today there is no hope for earth. Being molded to think one way, molded to be fitted in a box and not have any form of creativity. To think of a certain way. 

And it is disgusting. 

Third  POV 

After a nasty fight at the bar, Jake went home. He got the money, less than last week but it's enough for the both of them. 

Yes, both. 

After being discharged from the marines after his life changing incident, Jake sully didn't have a clear vision of what to do. Learning that his new life will contain him in a wheelchair, Jake's mind darkened and stayed like that for a while. Dull and colorless were his day. 

Would go to bars and make a fool of himself if it meant getting some attention and money for more booze. Made many mistakes in his dark days. Mistakes that aren't so easy to take back. Many regrets and doubts. But there was one thing that Jake would never see as an accident or a mistake, was his only reason to live. 

His daughter. 

A little angel sent from above to take him out of his dark days. 

Jake could barely remember the women he spent the night that conceived his child. Some faceless lady that gifted him his child. Really the only good thing left in his life. And because of his little star, did Jake push on. Still not making good choices, but hard ones to make it by.

Jake’s pov

The door opened and I pushed myself inside. Home sweet home. A small apartment, not the best, but its plenty. 

“Daddy daddy daddy!!” I can hear my little girl call out to me. 

Turning, I caught her just in time. Quickly climbing on my lap, her little arms hugging me. “I missed you daddy!” she tells me. I couldn't help but smile widely. My little angel, my little star, a gift from above. 

“Oooh I missed you too, have you been good for Misses Morve?” I asked her, moving her little messy hair away to look at her beautiful blue eyes. She nodded fast. And on cue, the kind lady we have as our neighbor came to us. 

A nice little old lady across from our door. 

“She has been so good, I am surprised she hasn't caused any trouble, '' Misses Morve tells me. “Thank you, you don't have to watch over her tomorrow. I'm staying in” I was informed. Saying our farewells, she left our place. 

My little girl turned back to me, “daddy! I saw on the hologram that the tigers came back from the dead! I saw them and they looked so cuuuuuuute!!” 

Animals has always been her favorite thing to learn about. I buy second hand books for her. School has become too expensive for an average family. So I try my best to teach her what I know. 

“Really? Maybe one day we can go see them together” I tell her. Her eyes sparkle in excitement, cheering and clapping. Letting her chat away of what we can do should one day we go to the zoo. 

I know it might not happen, but nothing wrong with giving a little hope right? 

Third pov 

As the father-daughter duo chatted, a sudden knock was hard on the door. Both stood silent, misses Morve just left, Jake wasn't expecting anyone else. 

Jake gave his daughter a look and quickly she left to go hide in a cabinet. Jake grabs a gun hidden from a shelf and preps it. As he got closer, another knock was heard. “Who is it?” he asks loudly. 

“Is this Jake sully’s residence?” A voice was heard. 

“Who are you?” Jake asks. 

“We are from the RDA. We came to look for Jake sully. It is urgent we speak to him”. 

Aaaaaaaand that is all for this one! Hope you all like it cause there will be more chapters in the future! Until next time! see ya!

[scekrex]

I know you've been expecting this, so here ya go 😘

Punk!reader getting into Heaven and him just sort of bumping into Lute. Her being skeptical and annoyed at first but she quickly noticed his style and whole vibe/aesthetic and becoming interested. They talk and get to know each other, simply becoming fast friends which surprises many people since Lute isn't someone to trust another person this quickly.

Lute deciding that reader is an absolutely rad person and seeing similarities to Adam in him, she decides to make them meet. Her letting her bestie meet someone new who she thinks is awesome? Rare af and so Adam is intrigued. They meet up and even tho Adam was like "Eh, do I have to?" at first, he swiftly changed his mind after talking to reader for a bit and they hit it off. From that moment on it's just Lute being their wingwoman, trying to get them together. I trust your absolutely amazing, creative mind of yours that I adore with creating ways of her trying to set them up on a date. Maybe even failing once or twice before successing? 🤔

Muah, love you, you badass mfer ❤️

^ Lute showing off reader to Adam, that's canon, I was the Reese's Sticks on the shelf.

I love punk!reader - this simply has a light undertone of punk though bc it's still x reader :3 I love you too, babes xoxo <3

Never wanted to dance with nobody, but you

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Lute was kind of in a hurry, she had been talking with one of the other exorcists for a little too long and now she was about to be late to the meeting with Adam and Sera so when someone ran into her, knocked her off her feet and then offered her a hand to help her back up, she slapped said hand away angrily before she took a look at whoever had just dared to run into her. “Don’t you have eyes? Watch where you’re going,” she grumbled pissy as she got back up on her feet. You were quick to apologize, the lieutenant didn’t seem to care for such empty words though, she simply brushed the dirt off her clothes and pushed past you, her shoulder colliding hard with yours as if she tried to prove the point of being stronger than you - that you didn’t doubt.

That much about making a good first impression in heaven, huh?

-

It was a couple days later when you saw the lieutenant again, this time she seemed more relaxed so you decided to step up to her and properly apologize, she deserved an honest apology after you had knocked her off her feet after all. “Hey,” you greeted the woman as you stopped on her left side and offered the angel a soft and warm smile, she simply side eyed you before tilting her chin up, demonstrating that her rank was above yours and she didn’t have to speak to you if she didn’t want to, yet she responded, “The unstable mess that ran me over three days ago, didn’t think you’d have the guts to speak to me again.” She sounded honestly surprised that you came up to have a chat with her, you ran a hand through your hair, your body language was soaked with confidence though and that - Lute had to admit - was impressive. You reminded her of Adam, if only a little, yet your vibe clearly said punk and that she liked very much as a punk girl herself. She decided to let you shoot your shot, if your vibe didn’t match your personality, she could always cut you off later. “Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a smile that looked a little too prideful in her eyes, being a unstable mess wasn’t something to be proud of, yet you took the insult as a compliment and that she found charismatic. “Wanted to apologize to my fella punk stan, I didn’t mean to knock ya off ya feet like that,” you explained yourself and watched as Lute turned towards you, her posture straight, her chin still tilted upwards but her hands reached up to remove her mask and with that she revealed a wicked smile and sort of kind eyes, “Well, you made it clear that you’re not taking shit, not even from me and that is impressive.” She extended her arm, her hand was balled into a fist as she introduced herself, “Lute.” You looked down at her fist before you copied her wicked grin and gave her a quick fistbump, “Y/N.”

It turned out that Lute and you had a lot in common, besides liking the same music that was. You not only shared some favorite songs and bands, you also had similar hobbies and the lieutenant even invited you to stop by the exorcist’s training at some point - to watch and maybe even join them for that one session. The white haired woman and you had clicked almost instantly once she had dropped her guard and you had learned that she was great company - fuck, she seemed to like you so much that she even wanted to introduce you to her best friend and that was no other than the first man God had created. And while you had managed to avoid a meet-up until now, Lute had other plans. So when you opened your apartment door for her, because she had randomly texted you she’d come over and that she’d bring dinner, you were surprised to not only see her on the other side of the door, but also Adam whom she had brought along. “Uhhh, hey,” you gave them both an awkward yet welcoming smile and stepped aside to let them in, “I did not expect you to bring company.” Lute simply shrugged as she stepped inside, was quick to follow her, “He wouldn’t let go of the fact that I haven’t introduced him to you yet and I thought you wouldn’t mind.” Oh you didn’t mind it at all, you would’ve liked a quick heads up though, then you could’ve cleaned up your apartment a little. The first man was quick to leave you behind and explore your home, “Pretty fucking hardcore.” That made you smirk proudly, Lute had told you a lot about Adam, she had also mentioned how skeptical he could be when it came to meeting new people, yet he seemed way more chill than Lute gave him credit for - or maybe it was just your vibe and the way your apartment was decorated. “Holy fucking shitballs, you like Mindless Self Indulgence?” the first man asked, visibly excited and Lute smirked as she took her mask off and tossed it onto the couch, “I told you he’s the coolest guy heaven has seen so far,” Lute commented with a cocky smirk before she quickly added, “Right after you, Sir.”

Adam came up next to you, a CD in his hand as he wrapped an arm around your waist, “Babes, tell me you have some fucking thing that can still play these old as shit bitches.” And of course you had - why would you own CDs if you hadn’t? So you wordlessly grabbed the CD Adam was holding and walked over to your stereo system, put the CD in and turned up the volume. “Good fucking shit,” the yellow LED smirk of his mask seemed quite joyful and made you relax a lot. You had expected the first man to be more judgemental, maybe even distant, but Adam was nothing like you had thought, he was the loud, all-in-your-face type of guy but you liked that, a lot actually. Lute had also mentioned that Adam would probably take a long fucking time to take his mask off around you - he never left the house without it, never. Lute herself had seen him without it before, but only two, maybe three times. And the both of them had been friends ever since Lute had arrived in heaven - which was very, very fucking long ago. So when Adam copied Lute’s earlier move and took off his mask to toss it onto the couch, you weren’t the only one who was surprised. “Are you shitting me?” you mouthed in the brunette’s direction as your eyes were basically glued to his face - this was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. The white haired woman noticed the look in your eyes instantly and grinned, she knew that look way too well. “Huh?” the first man asked as he turned around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, he wasn’t quite understanding what you were talking about and it showed. “You’re fucking beautiful man, drop dead gorgeous even and you hide all of that underneath a fucking mask every damn day?” The confused look on Adam’S face turned into confidence with a good amount of pride mixed into it as he nodded, “This pureness is fucking reserved for specific eyes only.” And while it seemed to be self obsessed to say, you noticed the flirty undertone in his voice, it had been louder than the music blasting from your speakers. And something inside of your chest warmed up at his words, he thought of you as ‘worthy’ enough to see his face, to take a look of what’s underneath that steel mask.

During the evening Adam wrapped his arm around your waist more often than he kept it to himself,and you truly didn’t mind that at all - he was simply a touchy guy, that was it, right? But Lute knew better, Lute knew that Adam wasn’t touchy with every stranger he meets, and taking his mask off around you during your first meeting? Fuck, the first man was down bad and his lieutenant knew from the first second.

-

The three of you kept meeting after Adam had been introduced to you and while the brunette continued to send you signals, it was always the three of you, never just Adam and you. The white haired woman noticed the tension between you and the first man, she saw the signals he was sending you clearer than everything else - and you saw them too, you weren’t blind and Adam wasn’t subtle, but you were afraid to act on them, so you simply sent signals back. And given the fact that Adam wasn’t acting on those either, you assumed that was a simple personality trait of his, something you’d had to deal with from now on.

“Guys,” Lute interrupted the both of you, you and Adam had stared at each other for a good while now, you could say you had been eye fucking each other. “Did you even listen to what I was saying?” You were quick to shake your head, there was no reason to even pretend you had, neither you nor the brunette had a single clue what the white haired woman had just said. She sighed in annoyance as she rolled her eyes at the two of you, then repeated, “I was fucking saying, I have tickets for a band you two will enjoy, I won’t be able to come with you though because Sera wants me to work late and tickets are already sold out.” You looked at Adam, then back at Lute, “The fuck you mean, Sera wants you to work late?” You frowned at the lieutenant, she was so obviously lying, yet the tickets were indeed sold out and therefore her chance of joining you was gone. But she herself truly didn’t mind, not if that meant that the two of you were going to a concert together - she knew how Adam was whenever he went to see one of his favorite bands live and she hoped that maybe the two of you would have one or two drinks and that maybe you’d crash at Adam’s place.

Well, Lute was pretty fucking disappointed in the both of you when she found out that her plan didn’t work out properly. After the concert you had hung out at Adam’s place for a couple more hours and while the first man had offered you to stay the night, you had declined and left at some point during the night - Lute wanted to grab you by your shoulders and shake you because why in God’s mighty name would you do something so stupid when Adam had offered you his bed? She couldn't understand but she did curse you for your poor decision. Seems like she had to try harder than that though.

-

You heard the lock clicking and your brain needed a moment to process what just happened. “Call me when you two have sorted your feelings out and I’ll unlock the door,” then you heard the door to Adam’s house falling shut. Well, fuck. “The fuck does she mean by that?” Adam asked and ran his sweaty palm through his messy hair, he was nervous, his body language told you openly that he’d rather be anywhere else right now. He seemed afraid of the confrontation, had expected you to take the first step by yourself. Lute however had prevented you from doing so - not that you would’ve taken that step any time soon, so really Adam’s lieutenant was doing both of you a favor, yet you hated her for her little stunt. “Don’t do that, “ you sighed in frustration and your back hit the locked door as you leaned back. You slid down until your ass met the floor, your legs were pulled flush against your chest by your arms that you had wrapped around them. “We’ll both spit it out, then we can call that hoe to let us out.” Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow at your words, was that a trap? He wasn’t sure but he knew there was only one way to find out, “You’re fucking hot.” You looked up at him, a small smile had curled itself around your lips as you tilted your head a little, “You’re one to talk.” His eyes kept looking into yours and neither of you wanted to interrupt the moment you were having, so you sat there and did nothing but to look in his eyes and listen to the story they told you. There were feelings visible in them that you were sure Adam would never voice out loud, feelings and emotions that he had bottled up and not shared with a single soul until now, those feelings exposed a side of Adam that he had tried so fucking hard to get rid of - a soft side. His soft side. “I don’t like tiptoeing around you anymore. I like you, you like me. Are we gonna kiss now, or should I call Lute so we can murder her?”

The brunette’s eyes widened from your honesty and he just blinked at you, every single thing that he had wanted to tell you had left his mind, the only thought that had stayed was the thought of kissing you - well, it was more of a wish than a thought but it fogged his mind up nonetheless. With heavy steps he closed the gap between you and him, he offered you a hand to pull you up and when you accepted he quickly pulled you flush against his chest right before he grabbed your chin, tilted your head upwards and placed a greedy kiss onto your lips. Oh and how you loved the taste of his lips on yours - you were sure you’d never ever get tired of this taste or of the feeling the taste brought with it. You pushed yourself on your tiptoes to make yourself a little taller, to push into the kiss properly and Adam hummed in appreciation as you did so. He wanted to hold you like that for the rest of eternity, until the stars would collide and this universe would find its end. Until then he’d treasure you.

[potatomountain]

Chapter Four

📍pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective reader

📍word count: 3.2k

📍network: @pirateeznet

📍Warnings: (TBD)

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 and @daesukiii

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Despite the urge to stick your foot up their asses by the time they left, you surprisingly felt a bit closer; or more so that you had a chance to stay in this unit and get along. While their attitude still showed that you weren't welcome, they did help you move, and ate with you.

It occurred to you that they had other reasons for doing so, but considering they couldn't stand to be in your presence, you were going to take that as a win. It left you in a bit of a perky mood as you made your way the now short distance to the agency, giving you plenty of time to stop for breakfast and what was becoming your usual morning drink. You needed some routine in your life currently with all the changes.

Stepping into the office, after unlocking the door, you were surprised to hear several voices. Setting your things down, you peered down the hall to the open doorway. You could recognize Yunho's laugh, it taunted you in your sleep last night, but there was an unfamiliar laugh as well.

Remembering the Captain was supposed to be back, you made your way down the hall, mentally preparing for a boss fight. After all, if you could win the Captain over then you wouldn't have such a problem trying to stay. Unlikely that you could win him over if the Vice Captain was anything to go off of- but you could still try.

You had the decency to knock on the open door before stepping in, drawing attention to yourself. Yunho was sitting at his desk, Mingi resting with his own head on his desk, probably out cold or struggling to wake. Jongho looked up from his own, sneering at your presence but it was the newcomer who had his back to you that had your undivided attention.

He had broad shoulders and a slim waist that was obvious from the way he was sitting and the dirty, stained with blood, white tank he wore. He turned his head to look back at you, only for Seonghwa to yank his chin back in place so that he could continue cleaning a cut above his brow.

“Who's that Hwa?” He sounded curious, attempting to turn again just for Seonghwa to scrunch his nose in annoyance. 

“No one of importance-” Mingi grumbled half asleep, turning his head in the opposite direction. He hadn't even lifted up enough to look over his computer screen to see if it was you, which had you pressing your lips in a tight line.

“No one this attractive is of no importance.” The newcomer retorted, waving over at you. “Detective Choi San, nice to meet you.”

The friendly greeting kindled the bit of hope you had as you stepped in a bit for him to get a better look at you. “I'm the newest part of your unit.”

“No-”

“Well unwelcome part.” You corrected, giving Jongho a stern look to shut up his incoming insult. “Can I ask what happened?” On closer inspection he had quite a bit of bruises on him, some a bit busted open with cuts like his lip.

Seonghwa let out a huff, giving up on mending him for the moment and stepping back to finally acknowledge your presence. “Our job happened. I need to tend to the Captain and then we'll have you come in for a chat. San-” He mumbled the man's name as a warning.

San just waved Seonghwa off dismissively, jumping off of the edge of the desk he had been sitting on in between Jongho and Mingi's- you assumed it was his. With ease he made his way over to you with a smile, but you stiffened. Despite the friendlier demeanor that he had, you didn't want to trust anyone in this unit after the way they've treated you so far. “Damn they really got you scared Detective? I'm not going to bite you unless you ask, so relax.”

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to do just that. “Again, I've been quite unwelcome so can you blame me?” In fact the others were practically ignoring you; Jongho on his phone, Seonghwa left and Mingi let out a soft snore indicating he did fall asleep. You could feel Yunho's eyes on you but you were determined to ignore him instead.

“Not at all. You look quite familiar though… have we met?” He tilted his head to the side, looking you over with pure curiosity and a bit of confusion.

You shrugged. “Your name sounds familiar but I think I'd remember someone as gorgeous as you, even all bruised and bloody as you are.” You had to admit, he was fucking hot. Sharp jaw and sharp eyes that reminded you of a kitten currently with the way they were wide and curious. The hint of a wolf tattoo on his chest and tendril-like tattoos on his arms, both which were as defined as the rest of him. 

He grinned, taking a second to look you over as he stopped just within reach. However, before he could say anything, Yunho decided to give you a full introduction: Name, age, and even went ahead and announced “She transferred because her old unit couldn't handle her. Good luck.”

You saw all curiosity and interest drain from his face, instantly replaced with a strained smile and closed off eyes. “Couldn't handle you? Why is that?”

You sent a glare over at Yunho, once more wishing you could get away with physical violence and no consequences. “Fuck off.”

“So original doll.”

San watched the two of you battle it out mentally before clearing his throat. “You don't have to answer-”

“Good because I don't plan to.” You shot out of reflex, biting on your lip as you realized how rude that was. You didn't mean to be rude, not to San at least even if he was closing himself off to you already. “Sorry, it's just personal.” You sighed, looking away.

“You were close with them huh? The pictures on your desk?” Despite your obvious unwillingness to divulge information on the matter, Yunho of course had to poke.

Your reaction was too immediate to prevent, shoulders slumping and an arm wrapping around your waist to grip your other. “Did I not just say I didn't want to talk about it? Remember I didn't want to be transferred.” You sneered out, for once lacking bite to the words.

The tension shifted in the room but you didn't lift your head to investigate why. Instead, further awkwardness was prevented as Seonghwa stepped out of the hall, calling your name. “Follow me.”

With a bit of haste you moved around San and down the hall, following Seonghwa to the second office on the left. There was a plaque on the door that read “Captain” while the first door had been Seonghwa's office. Stepping inside, you were greeted by a man of average size with bleach blonde hair leaning back against a desk in the center of the room. No smile, but no glare either, just an inquisitive arch to his brow.

“This is her?”

“Yes.” Seonghwa shut the door behind you, watching as you gave the Captain a proper introduction and bow. 

He ignored you however, watching Seonghwa. “Captain Kim Hongjoong- I thought she was feisty?” 

“She is, just give her a second.”

“Huh- then what do you suggest we do?”

“What do you think we can do? You couldn't reject the transfer so I doubt they will let us pawn her off on someone else.”

“True true.”

You stood by silently while they had a full conversation about what to do with you… right in front of you. You were trying to hold your temper down but the blatant disrespect was always a quick thing to get under your skin. “Pardon me but I'm right here- you could include me in the conversation.” You finally huffed out.

Hongjoong smiled at that while Seonghwa sighed behind you. “See, I told you.”

The blonde man laughed, standing up and finally directing his attention to you. “Why did you ask for this Precinct?”

Hands on your hips, you straightened defensively. “None of your business.”

“If you want to stay here with minimal trouble, then it is. So answer the question.” He crossed his arms over his chest, jutting his chin out.

Lips twitching as you fought back a sneer, not liking that at all,  you relented. “It was the furthest.”

“The furthest?” Seonghwa stepped around you, standing next to Hongjoong. “What do you- fuck.” When it dawned on him, he pushed his hair out of his face angrily. “So let me get this straight- you picked the farthest Precinct just to be away from your previous unit?”

It hurt that your shame was this obvious, unable to meet either of their eyes. “Pretty much. I don't know why the board agreed to it but if I had known you all would have a stick up your ass I would've tried for anywhere else.”

The two of them exchanged a look you caught the tail end of when you finally lifted your head. It was like they were having a silent conversation right in front of you, which would annoy you if not for your silent wish not to hear what they had to say. You knew what was coming next.

With the tilt of his head, Hongjoong turned to you once more. “You were supposedly close with your previous unit, why did you want to be so far away?”

Bingo- right on a nerve. 

Shifting your weight from one foot to the next, you nibbled on your bottom lip. “I never wanted the transfer, but it was my unit chief that requested I get one. Several of the unit agreed and pushed me to take the transfer. As far as I’m concerned, I want as little to do with them as I can right now.”

Hongjoong nodded his understanding, leaning back against his desk. “Very well. Head back to your desk, I’m going to talk with my Vice-Captain here and then we’ll call you back in.

“With all do respect Captain-” you gathered up your courage to hold your ground “-I'd prefer to be present when my career is being talked about.”

“Doesn't matter what you prefer, you're dismissed.”

Now the sneer did make its way onto your lips, narrowing your eyes on the Captain. “The last time I wasn't a part of the conversation I ended up here so I will be staying right here.”

He stepped up to you, Seonghwa stiffened behind him and fixed you with a cold glare. Paired with the menacing expression on the Captain your nerves felt a little fried. “I will personally drag you out of this office by your hair if I have to, Detective, but I am attempting civility here.”

“I am as well, Captain. Your team has been hostile since I've arrived and I am sick of it. The board will take it out on me if you attempt to boot me out of this unit so soon and I am not above taking others down with me if that happens.” You gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Does it sound like one?” The two of you were practically chest to chest now, eyes locked and the air thick with tension around you both.

To your surprise, he didn't retort or threaten back- instead he grinned wildly, laughing as he turned to Seonghwa. “She's a fucking firecracker, look at this. I like her spunk.”

Seonghwa had a deep frown on his features at this, letting out a long sigh and a shake of his head. “It would be better if it wasn't pointed at this team.”

“True true. I suppose a little force is necessary.”

Before you could react, he was gripping your arm and dragging you to the door. As you started to struggle the door swung open and you were roughly pushed out. You managed not to fall to the floor but instead stumbled into the wall on the other side, turning to glare at the door as it was slammed shut.

The urge to kick it down was strong, but instead you flicked it off for your own benefit and cursed them both out under your breath.

Frustrated, angry, upset- and so much more- you had every intention of standing right here.

“Pay up-”

“Dammit.”

“Who had bets she would be thrown out?”

“Jongho did.”

At the entrance of the hall the rest of the team stood, exchanging bets. You turned your glare on them, hands balled into fists at your side. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

“What does it look like?” Jongho held up the wad of cash the other four had given him. “Betting on your demise. You're good for predictability at least.”

You hardened your glare on him. “Seriously? You all have to be some of the shittiest detectives there is.”

“I think you take the cake there buttercup.” Mingi grumbled. “Getting kicked out of your old unit? How fucked up of a detective do you have to be for that?”

A plethora of emotions washed through you, forcing you to blink back tears. “That's none of your business.” If standing around here was going to get you further ridiculed, you would rather go wait at your desk before you really did something stupid. You stalked forward, only Yunho, San and Yeosang moving out of your way.

“But it's in your file. Your unit Chief requested it right? Want to know the shit he had to say?”

You stopped in your tracks and glared over your shoulder at Yeosang, chest tight. “You have no right!”

“We have every right. We don't want you here-”

“You made that abundantly clear!” You cut off Mingi, turning to face them and practically shaking. “I don't understand what the fuck I did to earn such hostility from you lot but you can shove it elsewhere. I don't know if your inflated egos can handle the idea of a female detective on your team. I don't know if your assignments made you distrustful- but I don't fucking care. You are grown ass men, and this is a work environment, I believe I'm owed better fucking treatment than this- even after your Vice's so called attempts at a truce.”

Sometime during your rant the Vice in question, and Captain, had stepped out of the office. You ignored the tears that had welled up, the emotion in your voice, and pushed forward. “Grow the fuck up, get your heads out of your ass, and just accept that despite NONE of us liking my presence here, I am not leaving!” You pointed a glare at the two in the back specifically before turning on your heel. “Figure out what to do with that on your own.”

You didn't go far, leaving the door open and instead slipping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. It wasn't the most private but… you could be spared some shame as you worked to stop the tears you now let overflow.

The overwhelming loneliness was suffocating, only widening the hole in your heart further.

— — — — — — — — 

Seven pairs of eyes watched you go, two of them wincing at the loud thwack of the door getting slammed.

San was the one to break the heavy silence that followed. “What the fuck did you all do to her?”

“We played nice-”

“You call that nice Yunho? For fuck'a sake she's not mafia. She's not an enemy, why did you all have to treat her like she is one?”

“Why are you getting defensive? You just met her, San.”

“Should a supposed comrade breaking down like that not bother me? Should I be smirking like this fuck face here?” San jabbed a thumb towards Jongho.

All gazes moved to Jongho who immediately wiped the smirk off. “What? I don't like her, comrade or not.”

“Don't be a fucking child.” San grumbled off and then headed for the door. “Since one of us needs to be nice, it'll be me.”

They watched him leave, hearing him knock on the bathroom door and call out for you sweetly.

“We do need to dial it back. A lot.” Seonghwa didn't tear his eyes from the hall. “You saw the report Yeosang, why did she get transferred? The board won't explain, and we were trying not to dig too deep and raise flags.”

Yeosang sighed. “Do I ever leave evidence?”

“True- still, let's refrain from digging any more than you have. We have enough eyes on us as is.”

“She's still a liability. Unit Chief Chan had written in his report that she is a damned good detective, but attempts to bend and break protocol often. She can take cases personally when believing that the system is being unjust or not working in favor of victims but that it's also a great motivator for her job. He expressed how he thinks she could do greater things in a different unit, and feels as if the S.K unit is potentially holding her back and keeping her from being properly disciplined for the job simultaneously.” Yeosang recited the report for the others, giving them food for thought.

Yunho frowned, leaning back against his desk. “So driven but reckless and with a strong moral compass. She'll have a lot to say about the way we run things.”

“That's fine. She's a part of this unit now.” Hongjoong tore his gaze from the door as he heard the bathroom door open. “Change the board and put up all we know about the Green Vipers. We're going to test her. Yeosang, give her access to our files on them and let her get up to date. We can't treat her like we would outside of this Precinct, so treat her like a detective.”

“You can't be serious, Captain!? How long do you think it's going to be before she fucks up our operations? Or dig into something she shouldn't. Why not transfer her out?” Jongho clenched his fists at his side, angry with the decision.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong both fixed him with a stare. “We didn't say we are trusting her, but let's trust her track record. We are stuck in a rock and a hard place and that's only going to get worse if we fight her and this new reality any more.”

San stepped back in the room with you right behind him, defenses back up and that fire burning in your eyes the rest of them were beginning to associate with you. Some of them had to admit, seeing your eyes devoid of that spunk had left a bad taste in their mouths.

With a deep breath, you bowed deeply, fists clenched at your sides. “I'm sorry for my outburst.”

Yunho smirked, pleased with how steady your voice was now. “Truthfully we deserved it. Didn't we Mingi?” He slapped his friend on the back, causing him to stumble forward.

Mingi had been quiet since your rant, a permanent frown on his features as he avoided eye contact. “Maybe a little.”

San smiled down at you, nudging your shoulder for you to stand back up. “Told you we aren't the biggest assholes.”

“That's debatable.” You muttered under your breath, causing Hongjoong to widen his grin.

He stepped forward, outstretched hand for you to take. “True. Let me apologize on their behalf. Welcome to the team, but we still don't plan to make it easy for you.”

You grinned, lighting up your features as you accepted his hand. “I prefer a challenge anyways.”

Taglist (form): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse | @philijack | @lelaleleb | @idfkeddieishot | @isiloiale | @candypop1611 | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @fire-and-flame | @sugarnspice630 | @hongjoongswifefr | @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu | @auroreen | @sousydive |  @fatalt | @asteroidshowers | @Bts-army380 |

[riddle-me-fear]

Hey edward! You remind me a lot of a siamese cat, did you know that? You talk and love the sound of your own voice (much like that of a siamese, who love notoriously chatting your ear off which is another trait you share), and you just have the general goofy "vibe" of one! It's kind of cute, actually!

oh also question for, Dr. Crane if he wants to answer; have you tried fear toxin laced sweets and getting someone to set them somewhere for people to just eat? I know i'm dumb enough to take a free candy and experience "the horrors"

[tw: drugs mentioned]

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Oh nonono, you did NOT just compare me to a cat! GOOFY VIBE?? WHAT???

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

They kinda right tho, ya do give off cat vibes.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

I DO NOT!

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Why yer so mad about that? Cats're cute.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Not when they're trying to kill me!

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Naw, c'mon, ya damn well know they ain't responsible for yer allergies. Or's this still about Selina?

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Well, every cat I see does undeniably make me think of her, yes. Not fondly, mind you. Also, every single cat you come across Gotham could be one of her agents, just like every crow might be one of yours.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

How did ya survive bein' with her?

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

I did not. As you can clearly see.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Right, well, all that ain't got nuthin' ta do with ya behavin' like a cat. Ya even like bein' pet, 'specially by yer ears.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Could you NOT share my weaknesses with the entirety of the internet? Perhaps?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Naw c'mooon, it's hardly a secret at this point.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Nonono-- Don't--! Not now, not here. You stay away from my ears.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Eheheeeh, ya gettin' real sensitive to ma touch as of late. If I blow against yer ear, will ya get har--

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Shhhhut up and get on with the next question, will you?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Hn-hn-hnn. Aight uuh... Have I tried... Ahah ahahahaha! Eheh-- Ehh-- Eddie!

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

What? What is it?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

They-- ahahaha! They's askin' if I-- if-- ahahahaaaah! I-- I can't, jus' read the question ahahaha!

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Jesus, now I haven't heard you laugh this much in a while, what could possibly... Ah. Ahah, oh I see, that-- ahaha! Ooooh that is pretty funny. Right, so Jonathan's busy laughing his ass off, so I'll just answer this question for him. Yes, he very much has done that before. In fact, he's the very reason why trick-or-treating was outlawed in Gotham. And after his little stunt on last year's Halloween, it's being debated whether the holiday should be made illegal entirely.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

PFFF HAHAHA! Oh they can suuuure trah! Fffuckin' dumbasses HAH! Oooh lord... Phew...

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

I think you laughing this much actually scares me more than you intentionally being scary.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Aaaw stahp it, ya gonna make me blush.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Pfff-- hahaha!

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Fo' real though, I do from time ta time spread sum special candy 'round. But I don't give 'em ta kids as much, unless they be pissin' me off. Scarin' kids is fun tha first couple o' times, but it ain't interestin' fo' long. Ya don't gain nuthin' from it, other than havin' a bit of a laugh. Cuz kids' fears're always tha same. Monster under ya bed, tha dark - an' above all - bein' abandoned by yer parents. Naht that that ever changes in adulthood, but ya get mo' creative with yer fears ova tha years. I also don't take pride in scarin' children, ain't no reason ta do that. Yet.

But uhm... candy don't fly so well with adults, unfortunately. That's why nowadays, I like lacin' other drugs with fear toxin an' bring that inta circulation. Fun part is, once they be tryin' ma stuff, they don't want the other shit no mo'. Even if I be locked up at Arkham again, I don't think tha GCPD's ever gonna get rid of Gotham's huge ass drug trafficking circles. 'S real interestin' what different substances combined with ma toxin do ta people. Real excitin' stuff, gets a bit tricky at times, tough. Ya can't jus', I dunno, throw uhm let's say coke 'n fear toxin in a pot, stir it up an' start sellin, that ain't how this shit works. So I'm still experimentin' 'round.

But there's lots a' shit on tha market by now. I - heh - I luv' tha slang they come up with, like uhm... Pumpkin spice. 'S fear toxin an' LSD, right. NITH or NITHS is pretty creative. No idea who came up with that one, but it stands fo' needle in the haystack. That's combined with heroin, as ya might've guessed. All very Scarecrow-inspired, right, love that. 'Course there's a couple that's already in use, like hay, straw 'n corn, all code fo' weed. Didn't get that one workin' yet. Like a pill or a shot's easy, but havin' something ya burn, boil or uhm... uuh like make an oil out of - that ain't so easy with somethin' that's naht s'pposed ta be in that state. Nuthin' I can't handle, though, I'll make it work.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

And if your distributers remain loyal, we'll have a constant and steady income, and then hopefully make enough money to bribe a couple doctors to give you a proper leg prosthetic and an eye implant which you can actually see with.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Oh, I'll make damn sure they be stayin' loyal. They don't wanna get on ma bad side.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Mmh, I think nobody does, dear.

--------

There is a cut, and you notice it must be some time after they had made the previous recording. The couch is empty, the sun's rays had wandered across the walls and the empty cups they had been drinking from were no longer on the coffee table. Then, suddenly, you see a shadow from the upper left corner of your view. It takes you a couple seconds to realize it's the lower half of Jon's face, which slightly moves into frame. You then hear him murmur.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

He-- He also purrs.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

JonathAAAAN!!

As Edward angrily yells this from another room, you hear Jon's hushed giggle, just before the recording ends.