#never heard this but the vibes are unmistakable

[pucked-bunnie]

never have i ever ⎜l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x reader genre: romance ⎜angst ⎜ college AU ⎜ warnings: mentions of a bet ⎜hurt/comfort ⎜ luke is a silly boy ⎜ none tbh ⎜ unsatisfying ending ⎜ synopsis: when his friends spot the new girl at the teams halloween party - luke agrees to a bet he know he shouldn't be making. word count: 7.6k authors note:  this was requested and ended up a little longer than anticipated! I hope everyone enjoys.

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Luke had been watching you for an hour now. 

Not in a creepy way. 

He was just entranced by the way you weaved through the crowd - being welcomed into each group you passed as you say a bight hello to anyone who looks your way. Your bright yellow raincoat had caught his attention as soon as you walked through the door - shining like a beacon as you made you way straight for the house kitchen, carrying around that small bottle of water as you started to mingle. 

“Who you so enamoured by, Lukey?” A slightly slurred voice says as the body of his friend and teammate slides into his personal space - Ethan’s shoulder rubbing against his, their matching costumes a joke to anyone who looked over at them. 

“A Weather-Girl.” Luke says shortly, taking another sip from his half flat soda - nudging the hood off his costume off his head. 

“Weather-Girl?” Ethan repeats to himself skimming over the crowd trying to find the described person. “I don’t see a Weather-Girl.” 

Luke doesn’t elaborate, his eyes still fixed on you as Ethan follows his gaze.

“Ohhh,” Ethan drags out the word, spotting the unmistakable yellow coat bobbing near the living room couch. You’re laughing at something one of the senior players said, your head tilted back just enough to catch the low, golden glow of the decorative Halloween lights strung up around the room. “Weather-Girl, huh? That’s new.”

Luke just shrugs, feigning indifference. He doesn’t need Ethan making this more of a thing than it already feels in his head.

But Ethan being Ethan, the subtle hint of interest is like blood in the water. “You know, Lukey, I think we should introduce ourselves. Friendly team spirit and all that.” He’s already grinning like a devilish accomplice in a bad crime movie, and Luke knows nothing good can come of this.

“No.” Luke’s voice is flat, firm. But he doesn’t move to stop Ethan as he leans in conspiratorially.

“C’mon, what’s the harm? You’ve been staring for what, an hour? Two? Don’t be a coward.” Ethan’s smirk widens as he straightens up and crosses his arms. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to make things interesting.”

Luke sighs, already regretting whatever’s about to come out of his friend’s mouth. “What do you want, Ethan?” Luke’s gaze flickers back to Ethan, who’s watching him with the kind of grin that only spells trouble. It’s a setup, Luke knows it is, but he also knows Ethan won’t back down until he’s either embarrassed himself or dragged Luke into some ridiculous scheme. That’s just Ethan.

“You know,” Ethan starts again, his tone sly, “I think this is fate.”

Luke arches a brow. “What are you talking about?”

Ethan leans in, lowering his voice like they’re plotting something top-secret. “The new girl. Weather-Girl. I bet you couldn’t even get her to go out with you if you tried.”

Luke blinks, his head snapping back. “What?”

“You heard me,” Ethan continues, his grin widening. “She’s got this whole sunshine-and-rainbows vibe, and you’ve got… well, you’ve got ‘quiet, brooding hockey guy’ energy.”

“I wouldn’t really say quiet and brooding.” Luke says taking another sip of his drink, “more like quiet and anxious.” Ethan just shrugs as Lukes correction, watching you move with an equally appreciative look. 

“I mean it’s not like you’re her type anyway.” 

Luke glares at him. “And you’d know that how?”

“I’m observant,” Ethan says smugly. “Like I said, she’s sunshine-and-rainbows and you’re you. But hey, prove me wrong. I’m willing to make this interesting.”

Luke sighs. “I’m not playing your games, Ethan.”

“Not even if there’s something in it for you?” Ethan’s eyes gleam with mischief. “If you get her to go out with you and be the first one to say she has feelings—even just an I like you—I’ll do all your house chores for a month. Every single one.”

Luke hesitates. 

That’s… tempting. 

Too tempting. 

But then he shakes his head. “And if I don’t?”

Ethan leans back against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Then you buy dinner for the whole team after every practice. For a month.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s fair,” Ethan counters. “Besides, you’ve been staring at her all night anyway. Might as well make it worth something.”

Luke doesn’t respond, but his jaw clenches. He knows this is a bad idea—knows Ethan is goading him on purpose. But then his eyes drift back to you, and he catches the way you’re laughing at something, the way you light up the space around you without even trying. It’s magnetic, and he hates that Ethan noticed too.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Luke mutters, “Fine.”

Ethan’s grin could rival the devil’s. “Fine, what?”

Luke glares. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Ethan claps him on the shoulder. “Atta boy. Just don’t forget—one date. Real effort. No half-assing it, Lukey.” Luke mutters a curse under his breath and shakes Ethan off. The smugness radiating from his friend is almost enough to make him back out, but then he glances at you again. You’re standing by the couch, the yellow raincoat still draped over your shoulders, your head tilted as you listen to someone talking. There’s something about the way you seem so at ease, like the party could crumble around you and you’d just smile through it.

Taking a steadying breath, Luke squares his shoulders and heads your way. The closer he gets, the louder the sounds of the party become—music pounding, laughter ringing, snippets of conversation floating through the air. He rehearses a dozen opening lines in his head, but none of them stick.

When he’s just a few steps away, you look up, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, Luke forgets how to breathe. Your expression shifts, recognition flickering in your eyes as you offer him a small, curious smile.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the noise like it’s meant just for him. “You’re Luke, right? From the team?”

Luke nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. That’s me.” Your smile widens, and you take a small step closer, tucking a strand of your blue wig behind your ear. 

“I thought so. I’ve heard a lot about you. Big hockey star and all.” Luke’s mouth feels dry, but he forces himself to speak. 

“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

You laugh softly, and it’s the kind of sound that makes the whole room feel smaller, quieter, like it’s just the two of you. “So, what brings you over here, hockey star? Didn’t peg you as the mingling type.”

Luke rubs the back of his neck, cursing Ethan silently. “Just thought I’d say hi. You’re… new, right?”

“Guilty,” you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Just transferred. My roommate dragged me here. Thought it’d be a good way to meet people.”

“And?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. “How’s that going?”

“Pretty good so far,” you say, your eyes sparkling. “Especially now that I’ve officially met Luke Hughes-the-hockey-star.” Luke chuckles nervously, and for the first time all night, he’s not thinking about anything other than right now. 

He’s thinking about you—how you look up at him like he’s the only one here, how your smile feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. Ethan’s words echo faintly in his mind, but Luke pushes them aside. He might have agreed to the bet, but right now, he’s not doing this for Ethan.

He’s doing this for you — well for him but what’s the difference.

“So what’re you?” Luke asks, gesturing down at your costume. “I’m guessing a weather girl.” He says with a soft smile, your eyes glittering as you shake your head. 

“I’m Coraline - you know the terrifying kids movie?” The costume makes so much more sense now - your bright yellow raincoat, the gumboots and the button sunglasses propped on the top of your head. 

“Nope, never seen it.” Luke lies, his neck flaming red as your mouth falls open, your eyebrows lifting. “Maybe you should show it to me sometime.” Luke gets out quickly, his heart slamming against his ribs as a knowing smile grows on your face. 

Your grin is equal parts amusement and challenge. “Oh, I absolutely will. You’re missing out. It’s iconic.”

Luke’s stomach twists, but not in the usual anxious way—it’s something lighter, almost hopeful. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, surprising even himself with how steady his voice sounds.

You tilt your head, studying him with a curious expression, and for a second, Luke wonders if you can see right through him, if you can tell that his hands are clammy, or that he’s replaying every word of this conversation in his head to make sure he hasn’t completely embarrassed himself.

“Deal,” you say finally, extending a hand like it’s an official agreement. Luke hesitates only for a heartbeat before taking it. Your hand is warm and soft, and he hopes you don’t notice the way his lingers just a little too long before letting go.

“So, Coraline,” he says, grasping for something to keep the conversation going, “are you into horror movies? Or is this just a one-time thing?”

You laugh again, a bright, genuine sound that makes his chest feel tight. “I like them when they’re creepy but not too gory. Psychological stuff, you know? Keeps you on your toes.” You pause, eyes glinting playfully. “Why? Are you scared of scary movies, hockey star?”

Luke shakes his head, though the truth is closer to yes. “Not scared. Just... prefer movies where I don’t have to watch an episode of SpongeBob after to sleep.” Your laughter this time is louder, drawing a few glances from people nearby, but you don’t seem to care. 

“Fair enough. I’ll make sure to ease you into it.”

Luke nods, pretending to weigh his options. “I guess I can handle that.”

“You’d better,” you tease. “I don’t usually offer private screenings, you know.” Luke’s cheeks heat, and he hopes the dim lighting hides it. 

“I’ll try not to ruin it with my... quiet, brooding energy,” he says, quoting Ethan with a faint smirk. Your brows lift, and there’s a flicker of recognition in your eyes. 

“Quiet and brooding? That doesn’t sound like you. Quiet - maybe, brooding - no way. ” Luke huffs a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.  Before he can think of a response, someone calls your name from across the room. You glance over your shoulder, and Luke follows your gaze to see a girl waving at you, her phone in hand. 

“That’s my roommate,” you say, turning back to him. “She’s probably wondering if I’m still alive.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Luke says quickly, though part of him wants to. “It was nice talking to you.”

“You too, Luke.” You hesitate for a moment, then smile again, softer this time. “See you around?”

“Definitely,” he manages, watching as you make your way across the room. As soon as you’re out of earshot, Ethan materialises at his side, looking far too pleased with himself.

 “So, how’d it go?” Luke glares at him, though there’s no heat behind it. 

“You’re insufferable.”

Ethan just grins. “Good then?” He claps Luke on the back and saunters off, leaving Luke to process what just happened. He takes another sip of his now-warm soda, his mind replaying the way your smile seemed to light up the room, the way you said his name like it was already familiar. For the first time all night, the noise and chaos of the party don’t feel overwhelming. 

Because for just a few minutes, you made everything else fade away.

Until his head shoots in your direction - he never got your number. 

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“You’re really gonna stick up posters to try and find her?” Ethan questions as he looks over Luke’s shoulder at the posters his teammate was currently printing out. 

“I have no other option, how else am I going to find her?” Luke hisses back, collecting each poster as it’s spit out of the machine. 

“What kind of idiot forgets to get their number.” Ethan chuckles to himself, throwing his hands up in defence as Luke shoots him a sharp glare. 

“I was distracted.” Luke clarifies. 

“Maybe she didn’t actually like you, she didn’t seem to be trying hard to make sure you got her number.” Ethan hints as Luke tucks his posters in his bag, throwing it over his shoulder before trudging out of the library not waiting to see if Ethan was following behind him. 

Ethan’s words replayed in his mind as the shorter man catches up the two of them making their way to the morning practice. 

Maybe she didn’t actually like you. 

It stung, even though Luke wasn’t sure if it was true. Maybe she had just been polite, humouring him with that radiant smile that had practically seared itself into his memory. Or maybe she really did want to see him again but figured he’d be the one to bridge the gap.

Except he hadn’t.

He’d blown it.

Luke glances down at the one loose flyer in his hand, the bold block letters read:

 Looking for Coraline (or the girl in the yellow raincoat) at the hockey teams halloween party. You left an impression. Let’s finish the conversation. - Luke Hughes (the hockey star) 

Luke had concerningly been willing to attach his own phone number, knowing that in the end this might spell disaster but he couldn’t think of any other way.  Ethan peered at the flyer and let out a low whistle. “Wow. Really laying it all out there, huh?”

“Shut up, Ethan,” Luke muttered, his ears burning. He started toward the cork-board near the vending machines, where countless other notices, ads, and lost-item flyers were pinned. The board wasn’t exactly the romantic reunion he’d hoped for, but it was a start.

As he tacked up the first flyer, Ethan leaned against the machine, chuckling to himself. “You know, you’re making this way harder than it needs to be. Just ask around. Someone’s bound to know her.”

“That’s not the point,” Luke shot back. “I’m not going to embarrass her by asking the whole world if they know who she is.”

“But flyers are subtle?” Ethan teased, folding his arms and smirking. “You’re like a lost puppy, man.” Luke holds the poster up to the board, looking around for a free pin as he feels Ethan tap his shoulder lightly. 

“Dude look.” 

“Ethan I’m a bit busy can you knock it off.” Luke hisses as he tries to shake off Ethan’s hand but his friend was unrelenting continuing to tap on his shoulder until Luke couldn’t take it anymore, smacking at his friends hand turning away from the cork board. 

“Hey Luke.” Your voice was like music to his ears. His hand quickly tucking the poster behind his back as his mouth falls open in surprise. “Someone said I might be able to find you here.” You laugh, Luke taking you in like he did at the party. 

You were still as stunning as he remembers, your cheeks flushed slightly from the cold of the hockey rink, your coat buttoned all the way up your neck and your ears tucked under a beanie. You worse glasses this time, the large brown frames sitting high on your cheeks. 

“Oh my god she’s a secret nerd.” Ethan whispers letting out a heavy ‘oof’ as Luke shoves him away, “Shut the fuck up.” Luke says through gritted teeth before stepping towards you, a lazy grin spreading on his face. 

“You never got my number.” You say softly.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I kinda noticed that... after the fact.” You laugh — soft, warm, like the first sign of spring after a long winter.  Luke glances down at the crumpled flyer behind his back, then at Ethan, who’s clearly struggling to contain his laughter.

“He found a creative solution,” Ethan says, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Your eyes flick to the paper in Luke’s hand  and then back to Luke’s face in surprise. “Flyers?” Luke winces, pulling the paper out from behind him and holding it up sheepishly. 

“Yeah. I, uh… wasn’t sure how else to find you. I thought maybe you’d see one.” For a moment, you just stare at him, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re kind of a dork, aren’t you?”

Ethan snorts. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Luke glares at him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Ethan?”

“Not really.” Ethan shrugs, but when Luke’s glare sharpens, he throws his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” He backs away, shooting you a wink as he goes. “Don’t be too hard on him, Coraline.” As soon as he’s gone, Luke turns back to you, his nerves creeping back in.

“I, uh… didn’t mean to make it weird,” he says quickly. “I just thought you were—well, I mean, are—really cool, and I wanted to keep talking to you. But I totally get if this is too much, and—”

“Luke.” You cut him off gently, stepping closer, your boots making soft taps against the tiled floor. “It’s not weird.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” You smile up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s kind of sweet, actually.” Luke’s heart stumbles over itself, and he tries to play it cool, even though he’s sure his face is giving him away.

“So… can I get your number now?” he asks, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone and unlocking it before handing it to him. 

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Luke takes it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly — just enough to send a spark through his chest. As he types in his number, he can’t help but smile to himself.

When he hands your phone back, you glance at the screen and grin.

“Luke Hughes, hockey star,” you read out loud, teasing. Luke groans, his cheeks burning.

You laugh again, sliding your phone back into your pocket. “So… when’s this Coraline screening happening?”

“Whenever you want.”

“Good.” You tilt your head, studying him with that same curious expression from the party. “Because I wasn’t kidding — you really need to see it.”

Luke chuckles, his nerves finally settling. “I guess I’ve got some things to come clean about?”

“You have watched Coraline, haven’t you?” There’s a pause — not awkward, but filled with something unspoken. Luke just nods his head, surprised when your smile grows. 

“Good, then we can go for something a little scarier.” 

“Scarier then Coraline, doesn’t exist.” Luke jokes, letting out a breath of laughter as you join, quickly glancing toward the rink doors more of Luke’s teammates filing through the doors.

Luke shifts awkwardly on his feet, watching you carefully as you tuck your phone back into your pocket. His heart is pounding louder than the distant thuds of sticks on ice from the rink nearby. He can’t believe you’re standing here in front of him — smiling at him like you’d been hoping to run into him, too.

You’re still here. 

You came looking for him.

“Do you have practice now?” you ask again, glancing at the double doors that lead to the rink.

Luke nods. “Yeah, just drills.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Shouldn’t take long.”

You tilt your head, considering something. “And after practice?”

Luke blinks, caught off guard by the question. “Uh… nothing planned. Why?”

A grin tugs at your lips, and you glance down for a second before looking back up at him, your gaze steady but playful. “I was thinking maybe we don’t have to wait too long for that movie watch.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat. “You mean tonight?”

“Unless you’re too busy, hockey star.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Nope. Not busy. Definitely not busy.” You smile, the kind that makes Luke feel like the luckiest guy in the room — maybe the whole world.

“Good,” you say, taking a step closer. “Because I’d hate for you to back out after going through all the trouble of printing out those flyers.”

Luke groans, his face flushing again. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” you tease, your eyes sparkling.

Luke ducks his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. When he looks back up, there’s a quiet determination in his gaze. “So… movie night?”

“Movie night,” you confirm. “My place?”

Luke blinks, surprised. “Yeah, sure. I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

“Definitely cool with me.” You pull your phone out again and hand it to him. “I’ll send you a text with my address.”

Luke watches you, his heart thudding faster as you step back. “So, tonight?”

“Tonight,” you agree, pulling your coat tighter around you. “Say… seven?”

“I’ll be there.” You give him one last lingering look before turning toward the door. Just as you reach it, you glance over your shoulder with a playful smile. 

“Don’t be late, Hughes. I’ll be waiting.” Luke stands there for a moment, frozen in place, replaying the whole interaction in his head like a highlight reel. He barely registers Ethan stepping back into view, his expression smug as ever.

“Well, look at you,” Ethan says, clapping Luke on the shoulder. “Got yourself a date, huh?”

Luke doesn’t even bother with a glare this time. Instead, he just shakes his head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess I do.”

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Luke finds himself standing outside your door, holding a small bag of snacks and feeling more nervous than he’s ever been before a big game. He’s replayed every possible conversation in his head, hoping he won’t make a fool of himself. The door swings open before he can knock, and there you are — standing there with a soft smile, dressed comfortably in a hoodie and leggings, your glasses perched on your nose.

“Hey,” you say, your voice warm and inviting.

“Hey.”

You step aside, motioning him in. “Come on in. I’ve got the movie queued up and everything.” Luke steps inside, taking in the cozy space — blankets piled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and the faint scent of something sweet lingering in the air.

“My roommate decided to give us some peace so she’s at her boyfriend’s place for the night.” You start slowly, before spinning around to face him, your hands thrown up in front of you. “Not that I’m expecting you to stay the night or anything.” Luke watches the way your face starts to burn, the tips of your ears a bright pink - a soft laugh leaving him as he nods. 

“No expectations.” Luke agrees, pulling out his snacks and placing them on what he’s assuming in your bed. “So what are we watching?” 

“I was thinking we should do a modern classic - have you seen any of the Jordan peele movies?” You question, busying yourself with laying out the food on the bed. 

“No, my brothers aren’t big movie watchers so I never got the chance.” Luke says quickly, hovering awkwardly besides you as he waits for you to settle on the bed. He watches as you hoist yourself up, swishing yourself against the wall before patting the empty space besides you. 

“Well you’re in for a treat.” You smile, throat bobbing as Luke climbs onto the bed besides you, his broad frame taking up most of the bed, his feet almost hitting the end. You had made the effort of setting up the projector your sister had gotten you before you went to college, the stupid machine notoriously hard to set up but it was worth it to not have to watch the movie on your tiny laptop screen. 

“Can you turn off the lights, horror movies only work if it’s dark.” You say quietly, pointing to the lamp switch besides Luke, who reaches without having to hand off the bed like you normally do, the room shrouded in darkness as you press play on your phone connected to the projector. “Be prepared of the best psychological horror of the past ten years.” You tease, settling against your cushions as you reach forwards to grab the bowl of popcorn. 

As the opening credits roll, Luke glances over at you. You’re focused on the screen, but there’s a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. He knows that he’s here because of a silly bet, but right now, none of that matters. What matters is this moment. You, beside him. The warmth of your presence chasing away the cold outside. The way your laughter fills the room when you catch him flinching at a particularly eerie scene.

Luke has to admit that though the movie was very entertaining he couldn’t help but look away from the projector - his eyes one the side of your face almost the entire time, watching every tiny reaction you had. His gaze only flicking back to the screen as the movie comes to it’s crescendo your eyes briefly flicking over to him, a smile growing on your face as he panics and looks away as your eyes meet. 

“Good movie, huh.” Luke says as he stretches his arms above his head, the credits playing as you let out a snort of laughter. 

“You were certainly enamoured.” 

“Sorry.” Luke sighs, his shoulders folding in on himself, the hockey player somehow shrinking to half the size he was before. “You’re just really pretty.” He admits, scolding himself in his head for his confession, the words slipping out before he even got a chance to stop them. “And now I sound like a ten year old boy telling the girl at the playground that he has a crush.” Luke laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as more words slip out. 

You blink, processing Luke's words, your heart skipping a beat as the playful smirk on your lips softens into something more genuine.

"Really?" you ask, voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if you're afraid to break the fragile moment hanging between you.

Luke nods, his gaze darting to the floor before meeting your eyes again.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not just that you're pretty. You're... more than that. Smart, funny, kind. Being around you feels—I don't know—easy. Comfortable. Even when I'm panicking inside, like right now." He chuckles nervously, his hand rubbing the back of his neck again. "And I know I'm probably making this awkward."

You shake your head quickly.

"You're not," you whisper, your voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest. Luke watches you carefully, his eyes searching yours for any sign that he's misstepped, but all he finds is warmth and something that makes his breath catch in his throat—hope.

“You’re almost falling off the bed.”  you say softly, shifting a little on the bed to make more space. Your hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against his arm in a way that feels both tentative and electric.

Luke hesitates for a moment before scooting closer. The bed dips under his weight, and suddenly the space between you feels almost nonexistent. His knee bumps against yours, and he can't help the shy smile that tugs at his lips when he hears your quiet giggle in response.

Your fingers linger on his arm, tracing a light pattern along the sleeve of his hoodie before curling around his wrist. The movie’s end credits roll on in the background, forgotten, as the room’s only source of light comes from the soft glow of the projector casting faint shadows on the walls.

"I've been watching you too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "During the movie. I thought you didn’t notice."

Luke lets out a soft laugh.

"I didn’t” he murmurs.  There’s a pause—a moment of quiet, charged with unspoken words and shared breaths. His gaze drops to your lips, just for a second, before flicking back up to your eyes. You catch the movement, your heart thudding louder in your chest.

"Luke..." you start, but whatever you were about to say gets lost as he leans in, slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you don’t. You close the remaining distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that feels both inevitable and surreal. His hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jawline as he deepens the kiss, his touch careful, as if he’s afraid to break the moment.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pull him closer. The scent of him—clean, with a hint of something woodsy—fills your senses, grounding you in the reality of this moment.  When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you share a quiet, contented laugh.

The kiss was sweet. Innocent, but left Luke’s chest buzzing as he left your dorm, sneaking past the RA’s room with you, the two of you pausing at the front door as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes placing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Luke asks softly, your head nodding as you promise to meet him at the cafe near the hockey rink. 

“Luke?” You call out as he makes his way down the steps, his body turning back towards you as you whisper, “I really like you.” The words make Luke’s heart drop to his stomach. 

The stupid bet. 

But no one heard it right? 

And surely Ethan wouldn’t hold him to it? 

Luke rushes back up the steps, his hands gripping your hoodie at your waist as he pulls you towards him, leaning down and capturing your lips with his own, the two of you lost in each other for a moment before he pulls away, whispering back “I really like you too.” Luke releases you, your lips tingling as you watch him dart down the steps, bolting from sight as his cheeks flush a bright red. 

+

+

“You going to invite her to the party?” Ethan questions, his eyebrows raised as Luke glances up from his coffee. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” 

“This thing is getting kinda of serious isn’t it?” Ethan asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at his friend taking the lid of his drink to pour an excessive amount of sugar in the hot coffee. “I didn’t picture you as a dating kind of guy.” He adds, Luke just shrugging his shoulders as he straightens ups, placing the lid back on his drink before taking a long sip. 

“I’m not usually, but she’s something special.” Luke sighs, “I like her and I think she likes me too.” He adds noticing the way Ethan’s smile grows. 

“So you’re going to tell her, or are you waiting till you win the bet?” Ethan teases, his eyes catching the way Luke flinches slightly, a shocked expression transforming his features. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.” Ethan coos.  Luke’s jaw tightens, his mind racing. The warmth from the night before—the laughter, the kiss, the way you’d whispered that you really liked him—all of it feels fragile now, like it could shatter at any moment.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Luke repeats, his voice firmer this time. He doesn’t meet Ethan’s gaze, focusing instead on the swirl of steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Come on, man,” Ethan presses, leaning forward on the table. “We made that bet months ago. You were supposed to ask her out, take her on a couple of dates, and then call it quits. It was just supposed to be a joke—a way to get you out of your shell. But now? Now it’s looking a little more serious than that.”

“It is serious.” Luke’s voice is low, but there’s no mistaking the conviction in his tone. “I like her. A lot. And I’m not going to let some stupid bet ruin that.”

Ethan leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what’s your plan? Pretend it never happened? Hope she never finds out?”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Then maybe you should tell her before someone else does.” Ethan’s words hang heavy in the air, the weight of the truth pressing down on Luke’s chest.

“I will.” Luke agrees, “Tonight at the party, I’ll tell her everything so just keep your mouth shut.” Ethan nods throwing his hands up in agreement as the both slip past a smaller figure holding the door open, a black oversized hoodie thrown up and over their head, Luke nods in thanks to the person, continuing his argument with Ethan as the continue on their way. 

The message dings on your phone as you wait for your coffee, your black hood now pooling around your neck as you let out a long sigh. 

Luke Hughes (hockey star) : I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party with me tonight - it’s at the frat house next to the rink? I can pick you up from your dorm?

Weather - Girl ☂️: I don’t know… I’ll just meet you there? 

Luke Hughes (hockey star): Ok. See you at 7.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket as you step forwards to grab your drink from the counter. 

A bet? 

Of course that’s why Luke had approached you that night. 

Someone like him would never go out with someone like you. 

+

+

You arrive at the frat house just as the sun begins to set, the amber glow of the evening stretching across the sky. The music blares from inside, the bass vibrating through the walls as you hesitate at the door, your hand resting on the knob. You’d never been a fan of parties—too loud, too chaotic. But tonight, everything felt different. It wasn’t just about the party. It was about Luke. The way he’d asked you to come, the way he’d kissed you like he meant it... and now, this lingering doubt.

A deep breath. You turn the handle and step inside.

The scene is exactly what you'd expected—college students scattered across the living room and kitchen, cups in hand, the occasional burst of laughter, music spilling into the air. You scan the crowd, trying to pick out familiar faces, until your eyes land on him. Luke’s standing by the pool table, talking with a couple of teammates, his eyes scanning the room every so often. He’s dressed casually, but he still looks effortlessly handsome. The tight fit of his shirt accentuates his broad shoulders, and his dark hair is slightly tousled, like he’s been running his hands through it all day. Your stomach tightens at the sight of him, and for a moment, all the noise around you fades. It’s just Luke, and it’s just the two of you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you.

He notices you then, his expression shifting as his eyes lock onto yours. His lips curl into a small, tentative smile. And for a moment, you wonder if maybe this is all worth it. Maybe he really does care. But then the nagging thought about the bet creeps back in, like a shadow in the corner of your mind. Luke steps away from the table, pushing through the crowd of people as he approaches you. His smile widens, but you can see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he gets closer.

“Hey,” he greets you softly, his voice a little too calm. He’s studying you, trying to read your mood.

“Hey,” you respond, your voice a little tight. You force a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m glad you made it,” Luke says, his gaze dropping to your hand before meeting your eyes again. “You okay? You look... tense.”

You hesitate, debating whether to tell him how you’re feeling. How everything seems off. But you don’t. You don’t want to seem like you’re overthinking things, especially not in front of everyone. Instead, you just nod.

“I’m fine. Just, you know, not really a party person,” you admit with a half-laugh, trying to make light of it. “But it’s... nice.”

Luke chuckles, his hand brushing against yours as he gestures toward the side of the room. “Want to grab a drink? I can introduce you to a few people if you want.”

You hesitate, your heart hammering in your chest. What are you really doing here? Was this all part of the game to him? Or was he genuinely trying to make you feel comfortable?

Before you can answer, a voice calls from across the room—Ethan, Luke’s friend, who’s standing with a few of his teammates, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the two of you.

“Luke! Come on, man. Get over here!” Ethan calls, clearly in the middle of some kind of banter. “We’re going to play a game, the cute girl besides you can join in too.” Luke glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you. His smile falters slightly before he gives you an apologetic look.

“Only if you want to” he says, turning away from his friends to focus completely on you, your head nods before you can think about it Luke lacing his fingers through your before walking toward Ethan and the others. 

“Thank you for joining us, weather-girl.” Ethan coos as you and Luke reach the group, a bunch of people huddled in a tight circle at the back of the house. “We’re playing never have I ever, know how to play?” You nod again, watching as Ethan clears a spot for you and Luke to join the circle, the two of you squishing between some other players from the team - Ethan quickly handing you both a red solo cup full of beer.

“I’ll go first.” Ethan cheers, “Never have I ever kissed a boy” The girls of the group chuckling amongst themselves before taking a drink, you cup raising to your lips as you take a slow sip as well the round continuing as each player having a turn in saying something they have never done. 

The circle all turn towards Luke as the person besides him finished their turn, “Never have I ever regretted asking out a pretty girl.” He says with a beaming smile, watching as Ethan groans before taking a sip of his drink shouting across the room. 

“That was a lame one.” Ethan turns towards you next with anticipation, your throat clearing as you say, “Never have I ever made a bet with my friend to ask a girl out.” The group falls silent as they all look at you, Ethan’s gaze flicking between you and Luke with a grimace, Luke gaze dropping to you in surprise as you look up at him expectedly, hoping to any higher power that he wouldn’t take a sip of his drink. 

“I can explain.” Luke whispers, recoiling a little as you let out a harsh scoff, lifting yourself from you spot on the floor in a hurry. 

“I think I’m done playing.” You hiss, pushing your way through the crowd as you bolt for the front door, ignoring the sound of Luke calling after you - letting out a shaky breath as the fresh autumn air hits your face. 

“I swear I can explain.” Luke says as he comes up behind you. 

“So I really was just a bet? What is this some fucking wattpad fanfic.” You let out a bitter laugh as you push your hair off your face. 

“Yes...well no…kind of.” Luke sighs, not knowing how to answer your question.

“What did you even bet anyway.” 

“Ethan said he’d do my chores for a month if I got you to go on a date and say you liked me first.” 

“You tricked me because of chores.” You scoff, “Was it worth it?” 

“Yes.” You let out a shocked laugh at his response, taking a few steps away from him as you throw your hands up in defeat. “It was worth it cause it meant I got to talk to you.” Luke takes a deep breath as he looks back to the party before taking a few steps towards you.  “The whole stupid thing was worth it cause it mean I actually got to meet you, instead of just staring at you from across the room, and things moved a little faster then I was anticipating but I’m not mad that it happened.” 

You blink at him, the words settling over you in a wave. You want to be angry, want to shout at him for making you feel like a game piece in some dumb bet. But as you look at Luke, there’s something raw in his expression, something that makes you hesitate. His eyes are sincere, even if the situation couldn’t be further from what you’d imagined.

“Are you telling me you really liked me? Even before this… game?” You ask, your voice coming out more fragile than you intend. Luke’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks unsure. Then he steps closer, the distance between you growing smaller with each second, the warmth of his body making you feel suddenly aware of how cold the night air is.

“I know how it sounds, and I don’t expect you to just forgive me because I’m telling you this now,” he says, his voice rough, like he’s been carrying the weight of it all for longer than he should. “I spent an hour watching you at the party that night, but I just couldn’t work up the courage to go over and talk to you and when Ethan made that bet, I saw it as a stupid way to break the ice—get us talking. And yeah, I should have told you everything upfront, but I didn’t. I messed up. I’m sorry.” The confession hangs in the air, a delicate thing between you. You feel the heat from his words, but your heart is still tangled in the doubt. He’s here, standing right in front of you, apologising. 

“I don’t know, Luke.” You shake your head, trying to process everything. “This whole thing just feels… wrong. Like I was some pawn in a game that didn’t even matter. And now you’re telling me that it did? That you really wanted to get to know me?” Luke nods, his gaze unwavering. 

“Yes. It matters. You matter. And I know it sounds like a bad excuse, but I’ve never done something like this before. I wasn’t thinking about how you’d feel, I was thinking about how I felt—and I was being selfish. I should’ve respected you more than that.” The wind picks up, tugging at your hair, and you shiver, more from the tension building between you than the cold. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to all of this. Part of you wants to run. Part of you wants to let it go, to believe him, to give him a chance. 

You cross your arms, staring at the ground, trying to make sense of everything. The weight of the night presses on you, every sound from inside the house now distant, muffled. “I don’t know if I can just forgive you like that, Luke.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right away.” he says, his voice softening. You meet his eyes then, something in the way he says it making your heart race again. 

“Then what are you asking for, Luke?” You whisper, the question heavy with every word.

“I don’t know.” He says softly, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment, before flicking back to you.  “I’m not asking for anything, I just want you to know that even if the only reason I worked up the courage to talk to you was because of the bet, it doesn’t mean that anything else had anything to do with it. I do really like you and if you want me to back off I will but I really, really don’t want to.”  Your stern expression falters a little at Luke words, your brain battling to keep your icy exterior up. 

“Please, I’ll do anything for one more chance.” Luke pleads, his hands reaching out for you before quickly dropping back to his sides. You watch as he fights with himself in his own head, trying to decide whether to pass the invisible border you had put between the two of you. 

“How about we make our own bet?” You say softly, not missing the way Luke’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You get one date to prove that none of this was fake if you can manage that then maybe you’ll get a second one.” You say Luke’s head already nodding before you even finish your sentence. 

“And if I don’t manage to prove it?’ He asks softly. 

“Then you do all my errands for a month.” You answer finally cracking a soft smile, Lukes body visibly relaxing at your words, the joke clearing something as he takes a few steps forwards his arms wrapping around you and lifting you from the ground before you even get a chance to protest. 

“I promise I’ll prove that the bet had nothing to do with anything, and I’ll do all your errands for the rest of the year.” Luke coos, his heart throbbing in his chest as you let out the sweetest laugh, the one that makes his legs turn to jelly as he gently sets you back on the ground. 

“I think I can make that work.” You smile, the doubt remaining in your chest as Luke keeps his arms around you, a part of him needing to keep you wrapped up in his arm to truly believe that this was real. 

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

“I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

[isak-dot-gov]

Bubblegum Pink

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Girly girl!Reader

Word count: 1137

My Matherlist :)

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You and Rhea had always been an odd pairing, but one that worked. Her brooding, gothic style was the complete opposite of your sunny, feminine aesthetic, but it never caused any problems between the two of you. In fact, you both liked the contrast. She loved how unapologetically girly you were, while you found her dark and edgy vibe pretty hot. 

But now, with the release of the new Barbie movie, your worlds were about to collide in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

It all started when you saw the trailer. You’d grown up with Barbie, and seeing your childhood icon brought to life on the big screen filled you with pure joy. Naturally, you couldn’t wait to see it. Even more so, you couldn’t wait to share the experience with Rhea.

One night over dinner, as you twirled your fork through your salad, you casually brought it up. “So, the Barbie movie comes out this weekend. Want to come with me?”

Rhea, who had been chewing on a piece of steak, glanced up at you with raised eyebrows. “Barbie?” she repeated, her tone filled with playful disbelief.

You nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yeah! It’s going to be so much fun. I was thinking we could, like, dress up a little for it? You know, something pink and Barbie-like. What do you think?”

Rhea leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Pink and Barbie-like, huh?” Her dark lipstick accentuated her teasing smile. “Babe, I don’t really do… pink. Or Barbie.”

You felt a pang of disappointment in your chest, but you didn’t let it show. You knew Rhea was right—dressing up in something so opposite of her usual style was a big ask. “I know, I know,” you laughed, trying to brush it off. “It’s okay, I was just being silly. You don’t have to. We can just go as ourselves.”

But deep down, you’d been hoping she might at least entertain the idea. Not because you wanted her to change, but because it would’ve been fun to share this experience together, dressing up and embracing the moment.

The rest of the week passed without much mention of the movie. You noticed Rhea hadn’t brought it up again, and you didn’t want to press her about it either. You told yourself it didn’t matter—after all, what was important was that she was coming with you, not what she wore. Still, a tiny part of you couldn’t shake the wish that she might try, just a little, to embrace your world the way you always embraced hers.

The day of the movie finally arrived, and you woke up early, excited to get ready. You’d been planning your outfit for days—a dreamy, pink flowy dress with cute accessories, glittery heels, and even a sparkly headband to tie it all together. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you smiled at your reflection, feeling like you’d just stepped out of a Barbie dreamhouse.

But when you turned around to check your phone, your stomach twisted a little. Rhea hadn’t said anything yet, and you weren’t sure if she was going to dress up at all. Maybe you had been silly to even hope she would.

You tried not to let it get to you as you waited for her in the living room, adjusting your purse strap and fidgeting with your phone. When you finally heard her footsteps, you stood up, ready to go, but bracing yourself for her usual all-black attire.

As expected, Rhea came in wearing her typical style—black jeans, a black band tee, and combat boots. Her dark eyeliner and signature smirk were firmly in place. But something caught your eye, and you blinked, not sure if you were seeing things.

Pink socks.

They were subtle, barely peeking out from the tops of her boots, but they were there. Bright, unmistakable, bubblegum pink socks. You stared for a second, processing the sight, and then your heart swelled.

Rhea shifted on her feet, her smirk faltering just a little as she noticed your reaction. “Don’t say anything,” she grumbled, glancing away with a slight blush rising in her cheeks. “It’s just socks.”

You were speechless for a moment, but then a wide, beaming smile spread across your face. “Rhea…” you whispered, your voice soft with affection. “You didn’t have to do that.”

She shrugged, still trying to play it off. “I know, but I figured, you know, it’s important to you. And they’re just socks. Not like I’m wearing a pink dress or anything.”

Your chest tightened with emotion. It wasn’t about the socks—it was about the gesture. Rhea had seen how much this movie and dressing up meant to you, and while she didn’t go all out, she’d made an effort. She’d stepped out of her comfort zone for you, even if in a small way, and that meant everything.

You rushed forward and threw your arms around her, squeezing her tight. “Thank you,” you murmured against her chest, your eyes stinging with happy tears. “This means more than you know.”

Rhea wrapped her arms around you, chuckling softly as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re lucky I love you,” she teased, though her voice was warm and tender.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at her with a playful grin. “I know I am.” You glanced down at her boots again, eyeing the pink socks with a twinkle in your eye. “And for the record, pink looks good on you.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression. “Don’t get used to it, alright?”

“Too late,” you teased back, leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek.

With her arm around your waist, the two of you headed out the door. As you walked hand in hand to the car, you couldn’t help but feel like this day was going to be even more special than you’d imagined. Rhea might not be covered head-to-toe in pink, but she’d met you halfway. She’d made the effort, and that was more than enough to make your heart burst with love.

As you drove to the theatre, Rhea glanced over at you, taking in how happy and radiant you looked. “Alright, so what’s this movie actually about? Are we gonna sit through two hours of Barbie just being… Barbie?”

You giggled. “Oh, you’ll see. There’s a lot more to Barbie than you think.”

Rhea smirked, giving your hand a squeeze as she rested her arm over the console. “As long as I get to see you happy, I’ll sit through whatever you want, babe.”

And just like that, with her pink socks slightly hidden under her boots, you knew you had the best girlfriend in the world by your side.

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[killerpancakeburger]

Being Ghost's BFF Headcanons

(while also dating Soap cause you deserve the best of both worlds)

If you told anyone that Ghost was your favorite person to see in the morning, they'd write you off as clinically insane. Or laugh in your face. It didn't make it any less true though. When you don't want anyone speaking to you before you had your coffee, the Ghost feels heaven-sent. Others might see it as rude, but you're content with him acknowledging your presence with a nod of head or by raising his mug of tea in your direction.

You've never been afraid of him - more like displaying a healthy apprehension towards a guy exceeding 1m90, weighing over 100kg, and hiding his face.

After spending a couple hours with him, you quickly came up to a new conclusion about him: he just had a resting bitch face. Just because he had a deep voice and a monotonous tone didn't mean he was angry 24/7. He treated people how he wanted to be treated. He had high expectations for himself and for others/teammates. All in all, a pretty reasonable guy.

You like to think he started to respect you for your combat skills and experience, but evidence pointed to the fact that he began to look at you differently after seeing you decisively slap Soap in the face to wake him up after he passed out from blood loss.

There had been a few milestones in your relationship: when he told you a bad joke for the first time (you briefly thought you were having an aneurysm), when he told you to call him Simon (in private), when he awkwardly tried to cheer you up by patting you on the shoulder (first time he touched you outside of combat/training).

Outside of missions, the time you spent together was divided between shooting matches on the training grounds and hanging out with a smoke at night when both of you struggled to sleep. He was one of the rare men not pulling any punches against you, allowing to enjoy the competition freely. Soap tried time and time again to stay awake to join you two, but failed systematically.

Acting like a divorced couple with Soap as the kid you have shared custody of. "Yer man escaped medical again" "Before 6 a.m he is YOUR man, Lieutenant"

Frequently finding yourselves shouting both at the same time: "English, MacTavish!" In the same exasperated tone.

You can handle yourself, and Ghost is perfectly aware of that. That doesn't stop him from standing behind you menacingly like the Grim reaper himself when he thinks someone's taking too many liberties with you.

If Soap's a golden retriever when he's in a good mood, Ghost reminds of your parents' cat: silent, deadly, and shows affection by deigning to occasionally hang out in the same room as you.

You always carry a spare mask for him; and he wears spare hair ties on the wrist - plain, black ones. Cannot mess with his vibe.

People keeps asking how you managed to have a relationship with "The Ghost", and your answer is very simple: "learn when to shut the fuck up".

A/N:

Me in the beginning: I'm only gonna write Soap content

Ghost:

Me: Oh FFS

BONUS:

When Ghost told you a bad joke for the first time:

You still remembered the joke incident vividly: you were on a mission together, just the two of you, and as you were focusing more than usual, anxious to disappoint him or to be a liability, you suddenly heard in your com: "Ye heard the rumour 'bout butter?"

If Ghost's voice hadn't been unmistakable, you would have thought he had been killed and replaced by someone else.

"What (the fuck)", you exhaled, not because you wanted to know about butter, but because you had no idea what the hell was happening. The fact that his tone was exactly the same as usual - deadpan, flat - contributed to making you feel insane.

"Nah, I shouldn't be spreadin' it". was the answer. Torn between demanding explanations and not wanting to commit a faux pas, you replied the way you replied to your parents' bad jokes:

"Ha. Ha. Haha...?" 

The seasoned killer on the other side of the mic didn't seem to mind, but you texted Soap in panic as soon as your butt touched the helicopter's seat.

“JOHNNY”

"Sup hen"

"Cannae go wan mission without missing me, ae? ;)"

"Did Ghost hit his head recently??"

"Negative Ma'am" "Why? Did something happen??"

"He told me a dad joke. A fucking dad joke."

"😂 Thats kinda his thing"

"thought I was losing it"

"Congrats, ye can consider yerself stamped wit The Ghost seal of approval"

"Ok? Cool???"

"Mah too favourite people gittin along" *trails of smiling emojis and hearts*

[heliosunny]

Hi, I don't know if this is wrong but I would like to ask for a yandere sashisu x reader request, the plot doesn't matter, it's just that there is Little sashisu content 🥺

If this petition bothers you, you can delete it 🥹

THE CAGE OF LOVE

1st year reader, 2nd year SaShiSu

Your arrival at Jujutsu High was supposed to be a fresh start. This is a place to hone your ability, make friends and maybe carve out a small place for you in the chaotic place of Jujutsu sorcery. But from the moment you arrived, three individuals became unavoidable.

You have this sweet 'little sister' vibe, the charm seemed to attract attention like a magnet. Despite being one of the strongest among the first years, people couldn’t help but dote on you. You didn’t mind, though. The extra care felt… comforting, even if it was a little stifling at times.

You had heard whispers of the infamous second-year trio before—their names carried weight and intrigue among the students. But you never expected to cross paths with one of them so soon.

It started in the library. You were searching for a book on cursed tools, perched precariously on a chair to reach a high shelf. Just as the book’s spine slid free, the chair wobbled, sending you off balance. A gasp escaped your lips, but before you could hit the ground, strong hands caught you mid-air.

“Careful there” a deep, calm voice murmured.

You glanced up, heart racing, to meet the dark eyes of Geto Suguru. “Thank you,” you stammered, your cheeks warming as he set you upright.

He nodded, offering a polite smile before walking away.

Later that evening, you stayed in the library until dusk, engrossed in your reading. The quiet comfort was interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps behind you. You turned, startled, to see none other than Shoko Ieiri.

“Eh… so there are dedicated students left at this school. How rare.” she drawled, her tone teasing as she pulled out a cigarette.

Before she could light it, you quickly stopped her. “You’re in a library, so…”

“Oh, oops” she said, slipping the cigarette back into her pocket with a lazy wave. “Anyway, see you around.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you to wonder about the strange second years you’d encountered that day.

--------

The next day, you found yourself at the training field. Your usual teacher was away, leaving Geto and Shoko to oversee your class’s exercises. While your classmates struggled with the challenges they set, you managed to hold your own, much to their amusement.

“Not bad” Geto remarked, his gaze lingering on you a moment too long. Shoko smirked beside him, her eyes glinting with something unreadable.

When the session ended, you excused yourself and headed to the canteen, eager for a quiet lunch. It had become your habit to eat here, where the hum of conversation was comforting and the food was decent.

But today, the canteen was eerily empty, save for one figure.

At a nearby table, Satoru Gojo sat slumped forward, his face buried in his arms. His signature white hair made him unmistakable, even at a distance. You tried to ignore him, focusing on your meal, but his presence was impossible to overlook.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, he suddenly lifted his head. His blindfold was missing, revealing piercing blue eyes that locked onto yours.

“You!” he called out, his voice startlingly loud in the silence.

You froze, unsure how to respond as his stare seemed to pierce through you.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Before you could stammer out an answer, another voice cut in.

“Satoru, you’re scaring her.”

Geto appeared behind him, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Gojo’s brashness. Relief flooded you at the sight of him.

Gojo groaned, slumping back in his seat. “I wasn’t scaring her. Was I?” he asked, turning to you with a pout.

“N-No” you replied quickly, though your heart was still racing.

Geto chuckled softly, his dark eyes studying you intently. “You’ve got a way of attracting attention, don’t you?”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you quickly excused yourself and left the canteen, feeling their gazes follow you all the way out.

As the days passed, the trio seemed to weave themselves into your life in ways you couldn’t escape. Geto’s quiet yet commanding presence, Shoko’s teasing but strangely protective demeanor, and Gojo’s overwhelming energy, each of them seemed to orbit around you, pulling you into their gravitational field.

And while they treated you with an almost obsessive care, there was something unsettling about the way their attention lingered. Geto’s gentle smiles lasted a beat too long. Shoko’s casual remarks often carried an edge that made your stomach twist. And Gojo… Gojo’s playful teasing always felt like it was concealing something darker.

You wanted to believe their intentions were good, but their intensity was suffocating. Every glance, every touch, every word seemed to trap you further in their web.

--------

You received a mission.

The mission had seemed simple enough: a first-year assignment to exorcise a few low-grade curses plaguing an abandoned factory. Your teacher had been confident in your ability to lead the group, given your strength and strategic thinking. The second years were preoccupied with their own training exercises, leaving you and your classmates to handle things on your own.

At first, everything went according to plan. The curses were weak and predictable, and you systematically eliminated them one by one. But as you ventured deeper into the factory, a sinister presence began to gnaw at the edges of your senses.

And then it appeared.

A Grade 1 curse emerged from the shadows, its grotesque form towering over you and your classmates. Panic spread like wildfire among your team as the curse unleashed its power. You fought with everything you had, managing to shield your classmates from its attacks. But its movements were erratic, and in a single devastating strike, you were thrown across the room, crashing into a wall.

The impact was brutal. Pain erupted in your side as you crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath you. Your vision blurred, and the world around you became a haze of shouts and the curse’s guttural growls.

Your classmates rallied, calling for help through their communicator. But it was clear they were outmatched, and their fear only worsened as they saw you lying motionless.

Meanwhile, the second years were wrapping up their training session on the other side of campus. Shoko stretched lazily, her cigarette dangling between her fingers as she glanced at Geto.

“Think the first years are managing without us?” she asked, smirking.

Geto chuckled. “They’ll be fine. It’s a low-grade mission. Besides, they’ve got her.”

But their casual banter was interrupted by the crackle of a distress call over the communicator.

“This is Team 1. We need immediate backup! Grade 1 curse encountered—severe injuries! Please send someone!”

Shoko’s smirk vanished. “What the hell?” she muttered, straightening up.

Geto’s expression darkened, his usually calm demeanor replaced with a sharp edge. “Who’s injured?” he demanded, grabbing the communicator from a nearby table.

The response was immediate, but it was the words they dreaded: “It’s her. She’s down.”

For a moment, time seemed to stop. Shoko’s cigarette slipped from her fingers, forgotten, as she and Geto exchanged a glance.

“Where are they?” Geto barked, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it.

“Abandoned factory near the west district.”

“Stay there!” Geto snapped. “We’re on our way.”

When they arrived, the scene was chaos. The curse had been subdued by a reinforcement team, but the damage was done. Your classmates hovered nearby, their faces pale with fear and guilt.

And there you were, lying on a stretcher, your uniform soaked with blood. Your breathing was shallow, your face pale.

Geto was at your side in an instant, his usual composure completely shattered. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice shaking as he assessed your injuries.

“She shielded us.....” one of your classmates whispered, their voice trembling. “If she hadn’t… we’d all be dead.”

Shoko crouched beside you, her hands already glowing with healing energy. “Idiot,” she muttered, though her tone was thick with worry. “You push yourself too damn far.”

“She shouldn’t have been in this situation!” Geto growled, his hands clenched into fists. His dark eyes burned with fury, though whether it was directed at himself, the curse, or your teacher for leaving you unprotected, it was hard to tell.

Shoko worked quickly, stabilizing your condition, but it was clear you were in no state to wake up anytime soon.

Later, in the infirmary, Geto and Shoko stayed by your side, refusing to leave.

“She’ll be fine” Shoko said softly, though the tension in her voice betrayed her own uncertainty.

Geto sat silently, his gaze fixed on your unconscious form. His usually serene expression was tight with guilt and something far darker.

“If I had been there…” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“She’s strong,” Shoko said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Stronger than we give her credit for. But next time…” Her tone grew cold. “Next time, we make sure no one touches her.”

Geto nodded, his resolve hardening. “No one.”

And as you lay there, unaware of their whispered vows, the air in the room seemed to shift, an unspoken promise that they would never let you face danger alone again, no matter the cost.

Gojo, meanwhile, remained unaware of the incident, busy with his own responsibilities.

------

It wasn’t long before Gojo heard about the incident. Word spread quickly, and as soon as he caught wind of it, he stormed into the infirmary like a hurricane.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice echoing through the room. His usually carefree demeanor was replaced with a rare intensity, his blindfold pushed up to reveal furious blue eyes.

Shoko glanced up from where she was checking your vitals, her expression calm but tired. “She’s stable. That’s all that matters right now.”

“Stable?” Gojo snapped, pacing. “She nearly died! Why wasn’t anyone there to back her up?” His glare landed on Geto, who sat quietly at your bedside, his hands folded as if in silent prayer.

“Don’t start with me, Satoru,” Geto said, his voice low. “You weren’t there either.”

“And that’s why I’m pissed!” Gojo shot back. “I should’ve been there. I could’ve-”

“She doesn’t need your guilt” Shoko interrupted sharply. “What she needs is rest. So shut up and let her recover.”

Gojo fell silent, though his jaw clenched as he looked down at your pale face.

Days passed, and eventually, you regained consciousness. Your body was sore, and your memories of the mission were hazy, but relief washed over you as you saw familiar faces surrounding you.

“You’re awake” Geto said softly, leaning forward.

Shoko offered a small smile. “About time. You’ve had us worried, kid.”

Even Gojo seemed uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t ever scare us like that again, got it?”

As you recovered, you noticed something strange. Your cursed energy felt… different. Stronger, sharper, as if the experience had awakened something dormant within you. You discovered a new ability—a defensive barrier that activated instinctively, a shield born from your determination to protect your classmates. The realization filled you with pride, though it didn’t erase the weight of what had happened.

Not long after, the higher-ups summoned you. Despite your recent injury, they deemed you ready for another mission, eager to test your newfound strength.

When word reached Shoko, Geto, and Gojo, the response was immediate.

“She’s not going.” Geto said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“She just got out of the infirmary” Shoko added, crossing her arms. “Are you trying to kill her?”

Even Gojo, who often challenged authority with his carefree attitude, was deadly serious. “If you send her out again, I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”

The elders hesitated, clearly unnerved by the trio’s united front. They ultimately relented, agreeing to delay the mission.

As you regained your strength, one of your classmates approached you in private. He was the one you’d saved during the mission, and his gratitude was evident in his every word.

“I… I just wanted to say thank you...” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “You saved my life back there. I don’t know how to repay you, but maybe… would you like to go out? Just for lunch or something?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden proposal. “Oh, um… I guess?”

He beamed, looking both relieved and excited. “Great! How about this weekend?”

You agreed, unaware of the eyes watching from the shadows.

The day of the “date” arrived. You were nervous but determined to enjoy the rare moment of normalcy. Your classmate met you at a small café in town, his cheerful energy helping ease your nerves.

What you didn’t realize was that the trio was never far behind.

Geto lingered outside the café, his sharp eyes fixed on you through the window. Shoko, disguised in casual clothes, sat at a nearby table, pretending to scroll through her phone. And Gojo, as unsubtle as ever, leaned against the counter, chatting with the barista while keeping an eye on your every move.

As the date progressed, their silent interference began.

The waiter mysteriously got your order wrong, delaying your food. Shoko “accidentally” spilled her drink near your table, forcing your classmate to help clean up. And when you both tried to leave for a walk, Geto casually stepped in front of the door, pretending to inspect the weather outside.

Your classmate grew increasingly flustered by the strange occurrences, but you didn’t think much of it—until Gojo decided to make his presence known.

“Yo!” he called out, striding over with his signature grin. “Fancy running into you here!”

You froze, confusion and embarrassment flooding your face. “Gojo-senpai? What are you-”

“Just grabbing a coffee~” he said smoothly, though the amused glint in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. He turned to your classmate, his grin widening. “And who’s this? A friend of yours?”

Your classmate stammered, clearly intimidated by Gojo’s overwhelming presence.

Before you could respond, Shoko appeared at your side, her arm casually draped over your shoulder. “We were just about to head out, weren’t we?” she said, ignoring your confused look.

Geto joined the group a moment later, his calm smile hiding the possessiveness simmering beneath. “Let’s not keep her too long. She still needs to rest.”

Caught between your upperclassmen and your increasingly nervous classmate, the date was effectively over.

As the trio led you away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Their protectiveness, once comforting, now felt suffocating. But as Geto’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder, Shoko’s teasing laughter rang in your ears, and Gojo’s grin loomed above you, you realized you couldn’t escape them, not that easily.

------

The second mission was supposed to be simple, a routine exorcism with Gojo as your partner. Given your recent injury, the higher-ups had decided you wouldn’t go alone this time, and Gojo insisted he’d keep you safe.

“Relax” he said with a smirk as you both entered the cursed area. “With me here, nothing can touch you.”

Despite his confidence, you stayed vigilant. The cursed spirits weren’t difficult to deal with, but halfway through, you felt a sudden spike of cursed energy. Before you could react, a sneak attack came from the shadows, a cursed blade aimed directly at Gojo’s back.

“Look out!” you shouted, throwing yourself in the way. The blade grazed your arm, slicing through your uniform and leaving a shallow but painful wound.

Gojo turned instantly, his hand snapping out to catch the attacker with ease. His grin vanished, replaced by a chilling glare.

“You’ve got guts trying to touch her” he said, his tone unnervingly calm as he crushed the curse with one hand.

Before you could catch your breath, a new figure appeared, a bounty hunter hired to disrupt the mission. The man was skilled, his cursed energy strong, but he was no match for Gojo.

“I’ll make this quick.” Gojo said, his voice icy. Within moments, the man was incapacitated, left crumpled on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Gojo asked, turning to you. His tone softened, but the tension in his posture remained.

“I’m fine” you said, clutching your bleeding arm. “It’s just a scratch.”

But the look in his eyes said otherwise.

-------

That night, after returning to Jujutsu High, you found yourself restless. Your encounter with the bounty hunter had shaken you, but more than that, it was the trio’s unwavering presence in your life that weighed on your mind.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore, the way they hovered, the way they claimed to protect you yet suffocated you in the process. But despite it all, you couldn’t deny your feelings. Somewhere along the way, their twisted devotion had captured your heart.

Summoning your courage, you asked to meet them in private. The three of them arrived almost immediately, concern etched on their faces.

“What’s wrong?” Geto asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

“I… I need to tell you something” you began, your voice trembling. “I know you care about me. And I know I’ve been relying on you a lot. But this… this is too much. I can’t keep living like this, always feeling like I’m being controlled.”

Their expressions darkened, but you pushed forward.

“That said… I care about you, too. I don’t know when it started, but I can’t deny it anymore. I love you—all three of you.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to your surprise, Shoko let out a soft laugh.

“You’re something else, you know that?” she said, her tone both affectionate and exasperated.

Geto sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve been too overbearing. I can admit that much. But it’s because we can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Gojo grinned, though his usual playfulness was tinged with something darker. “So you’re saying you love us, but you want space? That’s cute, but you know we’re not the kind to back off so easily.”

Your heart sank. “I’m serious. I need boundaries. You can’t keep interfering in my life like this.”

Geto stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “We understand,” he said softly. “But…”

“But we’re not giving up,” Shoko finished, her eyes gleaming.

Gojo leaned in, his grin widening. “You’re ours, whether you admit it or not.”

--------

In the weeks that followed, things seemed to settle. The trio gave you more space, respecting your wishes on the surface. But beneath their smiles and reassurances, something darker was brewing.

You began to notice small changes. Your schedule became mysteriously clear of difficult missions. Classmates who showed interest in you suddenly grew distant, avoiding you without explanation. And no matter where you went, one of the three was always nearby.

It wasn’t until you overheard them talking late one night that the full extent of their plan became clear.

“She’s too vulnerable out there” Geto said. “We need to protect her, even if she doesn’t realize it.”

Shoko’s voice was calm but firm. “We’ve already adjusted her mission roster. It’s only a matter of time before the higher-ups agree to keep her closer to campus.”

“And if they don’t,” Gojo added, his tone light but with a chilling edge, “we’ll make them.”

Your blood ran cold as you realized what they were doing. They weren’t just protecting you, they were isolating you, tying you closer to them with every move they made.

One night, they cornered you in the quiet of the school gardens. “We’ve been thinking,” Geto began, his voice as smooth as ever“about what’s best for you.”

“And we’ve decided,” Shoko added, her gaze steady“that staying here, with us, is the safest option.”

Gojo stepped forward, his usual grin replaced with something far more intense. “You love us, right? Then trust us. Let us take care of everything.”

You backed away, your heart pounding. “This isn’t what I wanted. I love you, but I can’t live like this.”

Geto caught your wrist gently, his touch firm but not painful. “You’ll understand eventually. We’re doing this because we love you, too.”

Before you could protest further, Shoko pressed something into your hand, a small charm infused with cursed energy. “This will keep you safe” she said, though the unspoken message was clear: it would also keep you bound to them.

Gojo cupped your face, his grin softening as he looked into your eyes. “Don’t fight it. You’re ours now.”

And as their overwhelming presence surrounded you, suffocating yet strangely comforting, you realized there was no escape.

They weren’t just protecting you—they were keeping you. Forever.

-----------

Once again, thank you for your request✨

[vexxandra]

what is coming? (timeless pick-a-card)

for those who need comfort, or dream of the future, this might be the pac for you ☆ 3-17-23 .

PILE ONE ; " i'm so tired " ...

how long have you been keeping yourself awake? it's up to you to decide whether that statement was metaphorical or literal, but the point still stands. can't catch sleep? it's not your fault. you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you deserve to rest. sleep is a blessing that you will catch up on soon. the mistakes of your past shouldn't stop you from rejuvenating yourself. i'm sorry this relief from life has been taken from you.

i can see that what's coming toward you is more closure. conflicts being resolved, and action being taken to prevent future problems from happening. peace is coming, and more spiritual peace- however you may find it. you are finding what is lost or missing; a confidant, a part of yourself you lost, or a sense of responsibility. this will make you feel a little less confused in this dark time. whatever you find, make sure it benefits you, not hinders you.

extra: the number 7 or 16, cheerleading, studying, driving/cars, violent - carolesdaughter, the need to please, disappointment, "you are more than your thoughts, more than your past" green, spring months, gaming to cope, betrayal, "you deserve love because you exist"

PILE TWO ; " i am fighting " ...

you are so strong. your strength is commendable, and so is your resolve. you are making me smile. things seem to be good for you right now, but have they always? no one is born to be so resilient, it's our experiences that shape us to be who we are, and yours have molded you into a warrior, pile two. you are so strong, have you heard that before? i feel like you don't get recognized enough. but you suffered, and i see that. i see that, and i see you. thank you, for never giving up.

stability is reaching you. i feel like you have a 'fake it till you make it mindset' in order to reach what you truly want. but i see that you will soon have whatever you desire. it will be unmistakably yours, and you'll know in your heart when you find it. you will be emotionally fulfilled, and reach a state of kind of 'enlightenment' where you're like, i know what im doing now, it all makes sense. it will be a moment where everything clicks, and everything settles down.

extra: pink, red, gold, orange, chains of pearls, instruments, stuffy, nostalgia, memories like the color yellow, may, june, 2018, "this feels right", back to the future/past, vintage, aesthetic, dream girl vibes, photos, "everything is okay"

PILE THREE ; " where is the sun ? " ...

you have lost your sun, pile three. you remind me of a sunflower, looking for the sun to turn to, but what happens if the sun isn't there? you are aimless and lost, trying to find what has been stolen from you. but it hasn't, has it? it's time to take off your lenses, and realize that this isn't healthy. you have been stuck in a cycle for a while, and i feel like you kind of actually trap yourself in it. i get it, it's better to be trapped than face the reality. but is the pain you're causing yourself really worth it? please find strength in yourself to break free. trust me, it's better than staying. im rooting for you, pile three.

what's coming toward you is the strength to pull yourself out of this negative situation. i see you putting yourself first, and sparing yourself of further heartbreak, disappointment, and sadness. i can see that this will sort of be a tower moment for you; the tower has always been shaky, but it's only now that you are fleeing from it, and i'm proud of you. it's hard, but you can do it. after, you might find yourself stuck in your own thoughts secondguessing, but you did the right thing. never forget that. i also see someone of importance entering your life, a little after this.

extra: dont worrry darling, omori, pink beats, neurodivergence, black, alternative culture, crosses, pinky promises, mother figure, chocolate, willy wonka and the chocolate factory, balloons, lamps, llamas, "why would you leave me?", "because i couldn't stay", polish

[tinytinyblogs]

Out? i don't think you need it, darling.

Yandere!skz react when you wanted to go out yourself

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬Hi, I'm sorry for the long delay. Thank you for your request. It might not fully capture the clingy side, but this is what comes to mind when I think about Yandere SKZ. I'm sorry if it's not exactly what you were expecting.

Stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

His smile was always sweet, but with Chan, it felt like there were a thousand secrets lurking behind it, each one more mysterious than the last. He was the perfect boyfriend, showering you with affection and protection, but there was a possessiveness in his demeanor that bordered on obsession. When you mentioned wanting to go out on your own, his smile remained, but it took on a sinister edge, as if he couldn't fathom the idea of you being away from him for even a moment. "Out? Honey, you don't need it," he said softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your cheek. "Right?" His tone was gentle, but there was an unmistakable hint of coercion in his voice, as if he was trying to manipulate you into staying. "But Chan..." you began, but he cut you off before you could finish, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. "Right. You don't need to go out," he insisted, his smile widening into something almost predatory. "Why would you want to leave when you can be here with me, where you belong?" His chuckle sent shivers down your spine, a chilling reminder of his control over you.

You tried to protest, to explain that you needed some time alone, but he wouldn't hear it. "No, honey, there's no way you want to go out alone without me," he said, his smile never faltering, his eyes gleaming with possessive fervor. His hand caressed your cheek, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the cold intensity in his eyes. Despite the smile covering his face, his eyes couldn't hide the hatred for your idea of going out alone. "You're not going anywhere, darling," he said, his voice soft yet commanding, each word laced with an unmistakable demand. He leaned in closer, his smile unwavering, but his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "You’re not leaving my sight, and you’re certainly not walking away from me," he continued, his tone becoming more insistent. "You don’t need to go anywhere," he insisted, trying to make sure you understood the gravity of his words. His eyes bore into yours, as if willing you to see things his way. "Why would you even want to leave?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, almost conspiratorial. "Everything you need is right here, with me. I can give you all the love and protection you could ever want."

Minho

He stayed calm, as if you hadn't said anything. "No," was all he said at first. "But Minho…" you began, but he cut you off by placing the knife he had been using to cut vegetables down on the counter with a deliberate, almost chilling precision. His expression turned cold and intimidating as he looked at you from across the kitchen. "You heard me. It's no," he repeated, stepping closer with a slow, menacing grace, his voice low and commanding. Each step seemed to echo with an unspoken threat. "Are you going to disobey? Didn't you hear what I said?" he demanded, now towering over you. His eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity that seemed to reach into your very soul, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. "You’re not going anywhere," he declared firmly. "You won’t step out that door. I won’t let you." He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "After all, I don’t get why you want to go out by yourself," he whispered, his voice dripping with a twisted mix of frustration and possessiveness. "Do you really think I'll let you?"

His hand shot out, gripping your arm with a force that bordered on painful, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer. "You belong here, with me. There's no need for you to go anywhere else. Don’t you understand?" His voice was almost a growl now, filled with a manic desperation. "You won’t step out that door," he repeated, each word a command that brooked no argument. "I won’t let you. You’re mine, and I will keep you safe, even if it means keeping you here with me forever." His eyes gleamed with a dangerous fervor as he leaned even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Why would you want to leave? Everything you need is right here. I can give you all the love and attention you could ever want," he murmured, his voice a mix of dark obsession and unyielding resolve. "You don't need to go anywhere," he insisted, his grip tightening. "Not now, not ever." His voice whispered right beside your ear, sending chills down your spine. "I’ll do anything to take care of you. Don’t you dare act stupid, honey. I wouldn’t like it," he said, his tone both menacing and affectionate. He gave you a small, unsettling smile before turning back to the kitchen to continue cooking.

Changbin

His playful grin persists as he clutches your hand tightly, refusing to let go even as you express your desire to venture out alone. "Why? Why do you want to go out alone?" His tone carries a menacing undertone, his grip intensifying with each passing moment. "It's dangerous out there, you know it," he repeats, his eyes drilling into yours, oblivious to the discomfort his vice-like grip inflicts upon your hand, now reddened. "It's dangerous, and..." he pauses momentarily, struggling to contain his growing madness, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. "And I can't bear the thought of you out there without me to protect you," he declares, his voice escalating in volume as you attempt to reason with him. "I just want to go buy something," you protest, feeling the pain intensify. But he refuses to relent, his determination unwavering. "Even if it's just a simple purchase, I'll take care of it for you. You stay right here," he commands, his demeanor becoming increasingly erratic and possessive.

With his muscular arm still gripping you tightly, he pulls you closer with a force that leaves you breathless, vulnerably thrown against his powerful frame. His eyes lock onto yours, an unwavering, almost predatory gaze that makes you feel both exposed and irresistibly drawn in. The grin spreading across his face grows wider, taking on an almost manic edge, a clear reflection of his uncontainable excitement and intensity. "Got it right?" he asks, his voice a deep, intoxicating mix of amusement and fervor. He leans in, his lips brushing your cheek in a kiss that lingers, sending electric chills down your spine. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs, "You don't need to go out. All you need is me." His grip tightens slightly, possessively, as if to punctuate his words. The room seems to close in around you, his presence overwhelming, filling every corner of your awareness with the inescapable certainty of his command.

Hyunjin

As you were getting ready to go out, you told him your plans, expecting a simple acknowledgment. The next thing you know, he's blocking your way to the front door. Hyunjin's smile quickly transforms into an irritated glare. "I didn't say yes to that, did I?" he growls, stepping closer with a predatory intensity. His hand darts out, snatching your bag away and tossing it onto the nearest sofa with a force that makes you flinch. "Going out by yourself would be so dangerous," he continues, his voice a low, ominous rumble. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the touch both tender and menacing. Before you can react, he pulls you into a hug, his grip possessive and unyielding. "And I don't want to let my beloved be alone out there." He doesn't give you a chance to protest. In a swift, almost dizzying motion, he drags you over to the sofa, pulling you onto his lap. His arms encircle you like a cage, holding you tightly against him. A smile reappears on his face, but it's tinged with an unsettling blend of adoration and obsession.

"I'd be so sad if you left me alone," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You don't want me to be sad, right?" His eyes bore into yours, their intensity almost hypnotic, leaving you no room to escape. "Right?" he repeats, his voice carrying an unmistakable demand. His gaze is fierce, unrelenting, waiting for you to affirm that you understand and comply with his twisted desire to keep you close. You know he doesn’t take no for an answer, leaving you with no choice. Silently, you nod your head, the gesture small but significant. It's more than enough for him. His expression softens, and a wide smile spreads across his face as if nothing had just transpired. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you with an intensity that is both comforting and confining. "I love you, darling... always and forever," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with a fervent sincerity. You feel his breath warm against your ear as he leans in even closer. "I'll never let you go," he whispers, his tone a chilling blend of tenderness and possession.

[mothwingwritings]

Animal Magnetism

F!Reader X Yujiro Hanma (Omegaverse AU)

Well folks, here is my first ever attempt at a true Omegaverse fic. I wanted to start out with something little to get a feel for it, but since I don’t know how to chill it ended up being a bit longer than anticipated. ^^; I’m still getting the hang of it all, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! Thank you so much for reading!!!

Also, I have a rather busy end of May-June coming up, so I’m not sure how much I will be able to write and update during that time. I apologize in advance. That being said, I wrote this pretty fast and edited it even faster so that I could get it out before I get swamped, so I apologize if it reads a bit rushed. (シ_ _)シ

THIS FIC IS NSFW, SO 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: Noncon/dubcon, yandere vibes, ABO/Omegaverse AU (reader is the omega ofc), death, strangulation, brief mentions of stalking, reader is degraded and treated like an object by Yujiro Hanma. You know how it is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

You considered yourself lucky to have found the love of your life.

That wasn’t always the case for Omegas. Since your childhood, you’d heard countless horror stories from your parents and friends, tragedies and cautionary tales of the horrors Omega’s faced when looking for a mate. Many of your kind faced dismal futures as breeding factories or were forgotten and neglected by their partners whenever they weren’t in heat. It was a lonely, painful, and unfulfilling existence, but a sad reality that many Omega’s endured nonetheless.

Because of this your parents sheltered you, doing their best to keep you from the cruel power imbalance of the outside world. Your father made sure he was the only alpha allowed near you on the property, the rest of your friends and acquaintances consisting of either other Omega’s or Beta’s. Not that you much minded, after all the negativity you heard surrounding Alpha’s you figured this was for the best. You weren’t missing out on anything, and as long as you took your suppressors accordingly, you were sure you could live out the rest of your life just fine without Alpha influence and still feel completely fulfilled.

That was to say, until a certain bodyguard was hired as the family escort, specifically YOUR escort. You had heard he was an Alpha and were quite shocked that your father would allow such a person so close to you, especially with all his previous warnings. But as time passed and your curiosity grew, you would eventually introduce yourself to the man of your own accord, excited and nervous to see what manner of individual he truly was. At the time, you would have never ended up guessing that one meeting would end up turning your entire world on its head, bringing more joy to your life than you could have ever imagined.

You were smitten the moment your hands joined in the initial shake, taken in by his easy smile and sparkling eyes. He had respectfully kept his distance from you at your father’s request, but you could tell he was elated to finally speak with you, a small blush gracing his cheeks as soon as you said ‘hello’. He was a kindly man, mild mannered and soft spoken, but strong where it mattered and protective to a fault. Were it not for the unmistakable scent that exuded from him, you wouldn’t guess he was an Alpha at all, or at least he certainly didn’t fit the description of most of the Alpha’s your father warned you about-all full of machismo and brutality, ready at a moment’s notice to tear you apart to satisfy their own base urges.

This man was the opposite of that, and when you fell for him, you fell hard.

Years past in a whirlwind, from the initial awkward first dates, to buying your own place together, to his heartfelt proposal to you. Through it all he always remained respectful, giving you all the space and time you needed to adjust to your life with him, never pushing his boundaries or showing any untoward aggression or advances.  Because of this, even after spending years together, you were able to remain pure, saving yourself for the day the two of you would join as one, marking each other to truly solidify your union.

And so time marched on, moving so fast that on more than one occasion you wished you could stop the clock altogether, just to steal a few more moments with him.

But now, you would never enjoy his company ever again.

His corpse had been tossed aside, discarded several feet from where you lay. It was so bloodied and broken you could barely recognize it as human, let alone as someone you once loved. Your chest rose and fell with erratic breaths punctuated by fear, the desire welling inside of you momentarily quelled by this sudden nightmare.

Minutes ago he was atop you, peeling the clothing from your aching, hot body. Moving painfully slow, he took his time enjoying your first heat with him, no longer constrained by the suppressors you had taken your whole life. You were scared of the process, worried about losing control of yourself and becoming mindless, driven by only your base needs. Not to mention the pain it would entail, the endless torture of emptiness, and the desperation you would experience relying solely on him for release from your torment.

But he had been patient and understanding through the whole process, explaining how it would all go down and how he would help you through it, alleviating any rogue fears that still remained. He even went so far as to help you prepare your nest, purchasing you any and everything you may need to make it comforting and inviting for when the time finally arrived. Meticulously helping you arrange everything while gushing about how excited he was, how lucky he felt having you as his mate, the one he would be eternally bonded too. He seemed more into the prep work than even you did.

Now, the nest that was to be used to consummate your love was stained in crimson, his blood splashing across it in vibrant streaks the moment he was knocked off you, flung across the room like a rag doll. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the lifeless body that used to be your beloved. Everything that had made him shine had been stolen in the blink of an eye, leaving only a husk remaining.

Above him stood his murderer, Yujiro Hanma, looming with a bestial sort of feral energy as he stared at the carcass by his feet.  Before this moment, you had never interacted with the man they called ‘The Ogre’, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know all about him. It was hard not to-the strongest man in the world was a celebrity in his own right, renowned the world over for his ferocity and ruthless nature. He had started and ended wars by simply existing, going wherever he pleased and doing whatever he wanted because there was no one who could stop him. He ruled countries from the shadows, amassed wealth and respect from the most influential men in the world. Truly, he was not a person to be reckoned with.

All that aside, you knew him best as the man your father despised the most. A once respected comrade from your father’s military days, you were aware that Yujiro had done something unspeakable to your father in the past, therefore disgracing him from your entire family. Your father had always been an amicable and fair man, someone that you couldn’t imagine having any enemies (even with his military background), let alone ones that used to be dear friends. And while the mystery of what Yujiro may have done to your father to receive this treatment gnawed incessantly at your brain, you kept your questions to yourself, not wanting to open any old wounds that may hurt him in the process.

Now you wished you had pressed the issue more, maybe then you would have a clue as to why this mythical family villain had abruptly entered the scene, irrevocably changing your life in the process.

The slaughter happened so quickly that Yujiro didn’t even break a sweat. Not that he would have anyway-the differences in ability were clear as day, you didn’t need any fighting prowess to realize that. Your mate never stood a chance.

The ogre’s fiery hair danced wildly around his head like a halo as he turned his attention your way, his figure both terrifying and awe inspiring as he took his time stalking towards your vulnerable form. There was no need for him to rush- the power of his presence alone was enough to root you in place.

Splayed out in your nest, you were completely exposed. Your nude chest heaving as a thin layer of sweat coated you, anxiety and confusion mingling with the raging heat your body was going through. Even after watching the execution of your mate before your very eyes, your body was still yearning, causing a horrible, all-encompassing burning that scalded you from the inside out. It made you desperate for release as your mate was in the process of marking you, taking his time exploring the body of the woman with whom he was destined to spend the rest of his life with before carrying out the duty.

And while his drawn out advance was driving you to the point of madness, amplifying the throbbing ache in your core with each teasing touch of his hands and sensual kiss of his lips, you knew the sluggish pace was for your benefit-to prepare you properly. It was your first time, the start of your forever with him. He wanted to make it special, for your pleasure to be immeasurable when he finally entered you, making you feel so good that when he bit down to mark you as his, the pain would be nothing in comparison, if felt at all. You had a life time of love ahead of you, but that was no excuse for him to give in to his desire and rush your first union.

But he was gone now, and his kindness had left you feverish and wanting-so desperately wanting- release. Craving your alpha, needing him so badly you could barely stand it, you writhed pathetically on the ground, whimpering in agony at the absence of fulfillment. Unable to control yourself, your hand traveled to your privates, tears flooding your eyes when stuffing your fingers deep inside of yourself only seemed to hurt you more. It was hollow and empty, not what you needed, not what you craved.

Were you in your normal mindset, revulsion would have washed over you at your actions-the love of your life had just been slain and here you were making a sorry attempt at masturbation while his body lay decomposing beside you. What kind of woman does that? How could you live with yourself after this? How could you tell yourself you truly love him, when now that he’s gone the only feeling your addled brain can conjure is disappointment over the fact that you won’t get the fucking you have become so desperate for?

How had you become so disgusting? You lightly shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts of self-loathing. Perhaps the blame did not lie fully on your shoulders, but to another culprit, one who was stalking his way closer and closer to you with each passing moment, hunting you as a wolf does livestock.

In any other scenario, this heart-rending moment would have been enough to crack the shell of haze your heat had left you in, no matter how worked up you had become. But the man who was now standing above you, Yujiro Hanma, was dangerous in ways you hadn’t even begun to fathom. His smell of his musk was so overbearing you nearly choked on it, the lust it sent coursing through your body turning you into something unrecognizable. You honed in on Yujiros scent long before his arrival, at first mistaking it for your own mate’s scent that had been amplified by your combined heats. And while it disgusted you to admit it, this new, intoxicating scent excited you far more than your own lover’s ever had, turning your mind to mush the longer you inhaled its aroma.

Yujiro’s cruel eyes bore down upon you, a look of mild amusement displayed on his face as he took in your weakened state. The smirk he wore as he killed your lover began to grow, his lips spreading into a full on smile, baring his teeth in a look that could only be considered as malicious.

“Well what do we have here,” he leered, the mere sound of his husky voice enough to make you moan, “Feeling a bit neglected, are we?”

He bent down on his knee, kneeling beside you as his eyes flicked across your body. After a brief once over, his large hand reached out towards your head, thick fingers knotting themselves into a fist as they gripped your hair. Roughly he yanked you up, dangling you mere inches from his face as he continued to stare at you with his horrible, ravenous eyes.

You scrambled to get your bearings, perching yourself on your knees to help alleviate the pressure on your scalp. Positioned so closely to him, his pheromones became even more intense, slick starting to seep from inside you from the proximity alone. Bright red bloomed across your body, a mixture of extreme arousal and embarrassment, as you wriggled in his hold.

Yujiro scoffed, “Look at you, I haven’t even touched you and you’re already leaking,” He swiped his fingers briskly against your weeping pussy, making you cry out as he gathered the evidence of your intoxication on his hand. Holding the glistening fingers up to your face, his smile returned as he goaded you.  “Bet your little boyfriend lacked the power to make that happen, didn’t he?”

Any anger that may have welled inside you over the slight against your beloved was instantly quelled, eaten by the tumultuous feeling of frustration the situation ensnared you in. All you could do was stare at Yujiro with pleading eyes, any words you attempted to speak dying out the moment you tried to voice them, becoming little more than whiny, petulant mewlings. Rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to create friction, you prayed he would show an ounce of mercy and grant you release soon, fretting over how much longer your body could handle waiting.

Yujiro sighed, chuckling softly under his breath, “Your father is a damned fool, you know that? I told that stubborn bastard that his cute little Omega daughter was meant to be mine, knew it the moment I saw you. I warned him that he could try and pair you off with some other lesser Alpha, but it would be a waste of time. You were fated to be mine- made to take my cock. Trying to make you anything other than my bitch was both asinine and disgraceful.”

He shot you another wicked smile, “Idiots like him may not realize what a fucking honor it is to be my cumdump, but surely you do, right sweetheart?”

You squeaked as he tugged you closer, his breath fanning your face while he stared down his nose at you, “Or maybe you don’t, given the situation I found you in. Looks like my ravenous little whore just couldn’t contain herself, could she?”

His lips curled into a snarl, his booming voice reverberating through your bones as he continued to address your misdemeanor. “Nesting with some weak piece of shit like that, have you no pride in yourself? I’m embarrassed you even gave him the time of day, let alone bared yourself to him. Who do you think you are, trying to fuck basic trash when you belong to me?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, he released his grip on your hair, shoving you roughly to the ground in the process. Hearing him move behind you, you attempted to push your feeble body into a sitting position, trying to reacclimate yourself. However before you could achieve this simple goal, his hand latched to the back of your head, shoving it down until it was smothered in the soft blankets beneath you. His free hand yanked your legs out from under you, pulling your ass up in the process. Though you couldn’t see him, the power radiating from him was immense, his aura so domineering you felt as if it alone was steadily crushing you. Were you in any sane frame of mind you would fear for your life, struggle and fight against the oppressive hardness that slotted itself against your dripping entrance.

But the slave you had become welcomed the intrusion, and as he tightened his hold on you, growling in your ear like the wild animal he had proved himself to be, you couldn’t stop your body from shuddering in anticipation of what was to come.

“It’s time for some corrective action.”

He entered you violently, his thick cock impossibly hot as he sheathed himself inside of you. The initial pain tore a scream from your throat, your vision dotting as you felt blood trail steadily down your shaking legs. He gave you no time to adjust, continuing his brutal assault as he pounded into you, uncaring of the damage he was inflicting upon you. The smack of his skin against your was punctuated by your cries, at first full of pain, but slowly morphing into expulsions of pleasure.

When the abruptness of his entrance fully subsided, you began to focus on the feel of him inside of you. Each slam of his hips ignited you, creating a feverish frenzy within that blocked out all other sensations and judgment. He filled you so completely, easily reaching all the spots that your fingers tried so desperately to reach just moments ago, satisfying all the areas that had been so urgently in need of attention with each stroke of his cock. You wanted more, needed more, moving in time with him as you chased after your pleasure. Wanton moans spilled from your lips, muffled by the bedding that was being shoved into your mouth with each thrust.

Even in the uncomfortable position he had locked you in, unable to breathe properly or escape from his grasp, all you could find yourself caring about was the alpha behind you and how he was making you feel- a strange sense of pride bubbled inside you the longer he went at you. The most powerful man in the world was doing little more than using you, and yet it was the fact that he chose you to begin with that filled you with flattery. A nobody like you being sought out by an alpha like him... Isn’t that what all Omegas dreamed of? To be desired by a dominant Alpha, having the honor of bringing them pleasure and receiving pleasure in turn, wasn’t that your only purpose, your reason for being?

You never dreamed you would feel that way before, but now you were finally starting to understand. The delirium of your desire had launched you into a state of inescapable euphoria, rebirthing you as nothing more than a shell of a woman who had finally realized her purpose, completely giving herself over to her unquenchable cravings while her Alpha’s assault molded her destiny.

Yujiro was a monster. Any man who did what they had done to the love of your life, any man whom your father had hated to the point of excommunication, any man who would violate you in such a way without so much as batting an eye, was an abomination-the remaining rational part of your mind understood this.

Yet as this demon, deserving of nothing but your scorn and hatred, spilled himself inside of you all you could feel was thankful. Thankful that the ungodly heat was starting to subside, happy that the pain the experience had brought you was alleviated, and blissed out over the feel of him nestled deeply inside of you, convulsing as the twitch of his cumming cock rained pleasure down upon you.

Finally, you felt complete.

After pumping you full of his hefty load, he hoisted you up in his arms, repositioning you so that you were facing him, straddling his lap. Gasping the moment you gained access to fresh air, a distressed groan croaked from your throat as his incisors latched to your neck, sinking deep into your scent gland. Your body shuddered at the sensation, fresh waves of pain and rapture coursing through you as he marked you decisively as his.

The cock that was still stuffed inside of you remained rigid, showing no signs of softening as your walls fluttered around it, the next round of your heat coming far sooner than you had anticipated. His hand wrapped securely around your throat, replacing where his lips had just been. He clamped down hard, pain pulsating from the open wound your scent gland had become, struggling once more to breath. His other hand grasped your hip, both limbs working in unison to bounce you on his dick-using you as if you were a human fleshlight.

“Don’t forget your place again,” he grunted, pulling you down on his cock so harshly, you saw stars, “You’re mine now.”

[hazymoonlinh]

Hii, Can I ask J(reverse 1999) x neutral reader?thank you (≧▽≦)

Sure, here’s some headcanon I think about him :3

Joe in a Relationship: Sweet & Fluffy Headcanons

Protector:

Despite his tough appearance and biker-boy vibe, Joe has a deeply protective streak. He always walks on the side of the road closest to traffic, instinctively steps between you and anything he perceives as a threat.

Will throw his jacket over your shoulders if it’s even a little chilly or when you riding with him.

Skilled with His Hands:

Joe’s background in forgery makes him good with his hands, and he loves using that skill to make things for you.

Whether it’s a custom piece of jewelry or a small figurine he molded from spare metal, every gift feels personal and unique.

Shy with Words:

( Mayyybe cuz in story he’s kind of a flirty type but also not)

Joe isn’t the type to spill his feelings in long speeches, but he has a way of letting you know how much you mean to him. A lingering look, a soft smile, or the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you something—it’s in the little things. (I would forgot to breath if he looks at me and smirk)

Classic Dates, 1990s Style:

Joe loves taking you on old-school dates. Think drives along the coast on his motorcycle, sharing milkshakes at a retro diner, or watching a movie at a drive-in theater. He’s not big on flashy displays, but his effort to create meaningful experiences is unmistakable.

(I’m Asian so I have to look up for all of this 😔)

Big Teddy Bear Energy:

While he’s rugged and confident outwardly, Joe is surprisingly soft in private. He’ll pull you into his lap when you’re both lounging around, rest his chin on your head, and hold you like he never wants to let go.

Burn Scars:

Though he usually flex his burn scars with casual confidence, telling you they’re his prides, there are moments when he feels vulnerable about it. If you kiss it without hesitation, it means the world to him, and he’ll quietly hold you a little tighter for it.

Music Bonding:

Joe has a surprisingly good ear for music and loves introducing you to 1990s rock and grunge bands he adores. Each song carefully chosen to reflect his feelings.

Cooking Surprise:

You wouldn’t expect it, but Joe’s not half-bad in the kitchen because he has a sister. He surprises you with hearty, comforting meals when you’ve had a tough day. Watching you enjoy his cooking makes him smile in that quiet, self-satisfied way.

Touch is His Love Language:

Joe shows affection through touch. Whether it’s a hand on the small of your back as he guides you, brushing your hair out of your face, or pulling you into a bear hug after a long day, he’s happiest when he can keep you close.

(PLEASE HEADLOCK ME JOEEE)

Subtle Vulnerability:

Joe’s a tough guy, but with you, he feels safe enough to let his guard down. On tough nights, he’ll admit his worries and let you soothe him. Though he rarely cries, if it happens, it’s in your arms, where he knows he’s truly understood.

(He almost did when heard abt Pauline situation 🥹)

Spontaneous Adventures:

Joe loves whisking you away on unplanned adventures. “Get on,” he’ll say, patting the back of his motorcycle. Whether it’s to watch the sunrise from a hilltop or grab ice cream at midnight, these moments feel carefree and magical.

Little Keepsakes:

Joe has a habit of keeping small things that remind him of you—a ticket stub from a movie you saw together, a pressed flower from a walk, or even a random trinket you once admired in passing. He treasures these like lucky charms.

Gentle Words:

The way he says your name—soft, deliberate, and full of affection—always makes your heart flutter.

Just imagine he groaning in bed EHEM WHO SAID THAT

(Nick have done a great job voicing him btw)

Acts of Service:

Joe is the type to fix things for you without you even asking. Leaky faucet? Fixed. Your bike tire flat? Already replaced. He’s not flashy about it but beams inwardly when you thank him.

Late-Night Confessions:

When the world quiets down and it’s just the two of you, Joe opens up in ways he doesn’t during the day. He’ll talk about his dreams, his fears, and how much he cares for you, his voice soft and steady as he rests his forehead against yours.

It’s sad that he didn’t came home….

😔

[peleksstuff]

escape 11. | rafe cameron x pogue!reader

*gifs not mine*

here part 2 y’all leave some comments dont be shy girlie ☺️ and for all smut lovers out there this book of mine wont have one i apologize in advance this story is more on following the outerbanks series anyways no more yapping go read this already (also ty for the notess🥰

one

“The two of you sat in the quiet, the sound of the rain filling the space between you.”

——————-

Kiara’s family owned the place, and while you liked the vibe most of the time, some nights felt like they would never end. Tonight was one of those nights.

The rain had started not long before you clocked out. Heavy, relentless sheets of water poured from the sky, drenching the island in minutes.

You groaned inwardly as you watched it through the diner’s windows, knowing you still had to ride your bike home. Exhausted, you gathered your things and braced yourself for the ride back.

There wasn’t much else you could do—your small boat wasn’t docked nearby, and you had no choice but to bike the distance through the storm.

The rain was icy, immediately soaking through your clothes as soon as you stepped outside. Pedaling was a struggle, the tires slipping on the wet ground, and within minutes, you were drenched to the bone.

The thin fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, water dripping from your hair and down your back. You cursed under your breath, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed.

As you rode along the empty road, headlights suddenly appeared behind you, growing brighter as a car approached. You paid no mind to it at first, focusing instead on avoiding the puddles that splashed up from your wheels.

The car slowed, pulling up beside you, and you heard the unmistakable sound of catcalling.

“Hey, baby! You lookin’ real good out there."

You ignored the voice, your jaw clenching in frustration. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the silhouette of a guy leaning out of the car window, his voice slurred with what you could only assume was too much booze.

“Look at that shirt,” he laughed, nudging the driver.

“Man, you can see everything. Soaked through. What a view, right?”

You grit your teeth and kept pedaling, determined not to let them get to you. But the wet ground betrayed you. You didn’t notice the large rock ahead in time, and your front wheel hit it hard.

The bike jerked beneath you, and before you could react, you were thrown off balance. Your body hit the ground with a thud, scraping your palms and knees against the asphalt.

The car screeched to a halt a few feet ahead of you, and for a second, the only sound was the pouring rain. You groaned, trying to push yourself up from the ground, but your body ached from the fall.

Through the downpour, you saw a car door slam, and then Rafe Cameron appeared, walking toward you with a determined stride. You hadn’t even realized he had been the one driving until now.

“Get off,” Rafe ordered his friend, who was still sitting in the passenger seat. His voice was cold, sharp.

“Seriously, man? It’s pouring out there,” his friend protested, glancing back at the rain.

Rafe shot him a look that could kill. “Get. Out.”

His friend opened the door, stepping out reluctantly, muttering something under his breath before walking off into the rain, clearly not interested in pissing Rafe off any further.

You sat there, still half on the ground, as Rafe reached you, the rain making his hair stick to his forehead. He didn’t even blink at the storm.

“Get in,” he said flatly, opening the door to his truck. His gaze flickered down to your scraped knees and hands, but his expression remained unreadable.

You hesitated, glancing back at your bike lying on its side. “But my bike—”

Rafe stared at you for a second, clearly irritated that you were worried about the bike.

Without a word, he walked over to it, picking it up as if it weighed nothing and tossing it into the back of his truck. You blinked, taken aback by how fast he moved.

“Get in,” he repeated, and this time, you obeyed, climbing into the passenger seat.

Your clothes were completely soaked, and as you sat down, the wet fabric of your shirt clung even tighter to your body, outlining every curve.

Rafe slid into the driver’s seat next to you, the two of you sitting there in the quiet, both drenched from head to toe.

You could feel his eyes on you, his gaze flickering briefly over your chest, where the soaked fabric of your shirt had turned nearly see-through. He didn’t say anything, but the tension in the car was palpable.

You shivered, partly from the cold and partly from the intensity of his stare. Rafe cleared his throat and reached behind his seat, pulling out an extra shirt from a duffle bag.

“Put this on,” he said, tossing it to you. His voice was still nonchalant, but you could see the muscle in his jaw twitch, as if he was trying to control his thoughts.

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You awkwardly pulled the shirt over your head, your wet clothes sticking to your skin.

Rafe’s eyes flickered toward you again, but he quickly turned his attention back to the road, starting the engine.

The truck was quiet for a long while, the only sound being the rain hammering down on the roof. You glanced at Rafe out of the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “But… thank you.”

"Yeah,” he replied, his voice steady but lacking any warmth.

The two of you sat in the quiet, the sound of the rain filling the space between you.

You could feel the weight of his presence, the way he seemed to fill the cab with an energy that both intrigued and terrified you. He was a Kook, after all. You reminded yourself not to forget that.

The minutes passed in silence, each moment feeling more charged than the last. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but the close proximity made your heart race.

Eventually, Rafe pulled up to your house.

“Thanks for helping me today,” you said quietly, breaking the tense silence that hung between you.

He nodded, his expression unreadable.“You should probably go inside. Get warm.”

You nodded again, feeling an odd mix of gratitude and unease as you prepared to step out into the rain. “Right. Thanks again.”

He offered a small nod, but you could see a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made your heart race and your skin prickle with awareness.

As you opened the door and stepped out into the drizzle, you felt the chill of the rain seep back in.

You glanced back at Rafe one last time, taking in the sight of him sitting in his truck, the way his dark hair was plastered to his forehead and his gaze was focused intently on you.

“Be careful out there,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed the genuine concern in his voice this time.

You nodded and hurried to your front door, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it, feeling the warmth of your home envelop you. Your mind raced with thoughts of the encounter—Rafe’s kindness and the way he had looked at you.

three

[mingoooossii]

Garden of words || S. Hanbin

Warnings: this is just pure fluff, a joke abt killing??(Again just a joke), Hanbin (he's so pretty wth) and not proofread.

A/n: my first fic of 2025(yay) finally broke out of my shackles though lowkey this was way better in my head(and i rewrote this 3 times already 😭😭)

Words:986

"Come on! It's nearby, just a bit more..."

Hanbin glanced around, following your lead as you held his hand, feeling a bit unsettled by the unfamiliar surroundings. The streets were... quite deserted, and the city's sounds had faded into a distant hum some time

But at least it was a nice change of scenery (the graffiti walls were quite the surprise) and he couldn't really bring himself to complain, not when you looked so excited. But you have been walking for a while now...

"Are you sure this is the right way?"

His voice held a hint of doubt as he tightened his grip on your hand, scanning the area briefly before stopping in surprise when you suddenly halted.

“This is it!” you declared, pointing at a tall, weathered building before tugging him toward the staircase.

His eyes widened at the sight. The structure appeared abandoned—no, it definitely was. He doubted anyone could keep it up in such a forlorn location.

"You're not going to secretly kill me, are you?"

He joked nervously, taking each step with caution. The old, creaky stairs groaned underfoot, enhancing the eerie vibe.

"Why would I? And if I were, I wouldn’t make it this complicated,"

You huffed, shooting him a cheeky smile.

“Right…” Hanbin felt a bead of sweat form at your response. You could be a bit... cheeky at times. But that was part of your charm, and he knew you would never actually do anything like that. He trusted you completely.

However, all thoughts soon vanished as you reached the top...

A garden? It seemed as if it had leaped right out of a storybook.

The strings of fairy lights, like a blessing, draped themselves over the sides casting an ethereal glow on the vibrant blooms. And that scent...

'Roses?' he mused, glancing down at the ground.

Roses, in every shade imaginable, climbed trellises, their sweet perfume mingling with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle.

"Beautiful, right?" he heard your voice and turned to see you settling onto a blanket.

You looked up at him, beaming, and patted the space beside you.

He nodded, carefully stepping between the plants before joining you. The blankets and plush pillows enveloped him in warmth and comfort, making his heart feel inexplicably lighter.

"My sister showed me this place , years ago..." you muttered with a reminiscent smile, your fingers brushing against the soft petals of a nearby sunflower. "Now, I take care of it."

His gaze wandered from you to the vibrant garden surrounding you both. The dedication and love poured into this place were unmistakable.

A gentle smile spread across his face as he turned back to you. "It’s breathtaking, just like you."

You let out a small huff, feeling a warmth rise to your cheeks. He always had a way of being...

"Such a romantic..." you murmured, shifting closer and resting your head on his shoulder, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto your face.

He laughed softly, instinctively wrapping his arm around you and drawing you closer. "But it's amazing, really ..."

"No one would've ever guessed that a place like this could be found here..." he whispered, his gaze drifting to the twinkling lights that mirrored the stars above. It felt like an escape from the chaos, a serene oasis... "It’s as if you’ve stashed away a slice of paradise here."

"Are you feeling thankful now?" you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze, planting a light kiss on his cheek, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Now you have your own little piece of heaven too."

He fell silent at your words, a flutter of emotion stirring in his chest, unable to look away from you.

It was indeed mesmerising, but in that moment, your eyes shined brighter than any star out there, in the sky. He felt a tightening in his heart. "It seems I do. My own... piece of heaven."

"A shooting star!" You exclaimed suddenly, oblivious to his gaze on you, a joyful smile spreading across your face as you turned back to him. "Quick, make a wish!"

Hanbin chuckled softly, watching as you closed your eyes, hands clasped in prayer before he turned to the sky, just in time to see the streak of light flash by.

He too closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, filled with hope, feeling his heart tighten just a bit.

"What did you wish for?" he asked gently after a pause.

You opened your eyes, looking back at him. "It's a secret! If I tell you, it won't come true..."

You paused, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you added, "But I’ll share it, on one condition. You have to tell me yours first!"

He fell silent, his throat tightening as he gazed into your eyes. Perhaps tonight, his wish might actually come true...

"You’re... the only one who can make my wish come true," he whispered, his voice soft yet filled with hope, watching as you sat up straight again.

"Me?" You shifted, turning back to him with a puzzled expression, to which he nodded.

You paused for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.

"Of course, I'll grant it if it's your wish," You replied, a smile so beautiful, blooming on your face that might even make the fairest of flowers jealous, he thinks.

"Are you... really sure?" he asked softly, his gaze searching yours intently. "You can't... take it back."

"Of course not! Do you really think I would?" you responded with a playful pout, your eyes locking onto him with curiosity. "So, what is it?"

Hanbin hesitated, his throat tightening as he glanced down, his hand reaching out to grasp yours gently.

A wave of confusion washed over you, mixed with a hint of concern as you felt the slight tremble of his hand. But time seemed to stand still when he finally met your gaze again.

"Will you marry me?"

[genjispeace]

Call Me Monster - Reaper X Reader

tags: explicit sex, very nsfw, unprotected sex, age gap, afab gender neutral reader, not lore accurate AT ALL do not come for me, pov switches, kinda dark idk, i wrote this late at night with no music just vibes

If Gabriel were a better man, he wouldn’t even consider touching you with hands that have committed such violence. You light up the room you’re currently in, chatting up a potential sponsor. That’s one of the things that has always left him in awe about you: your ability to befriend anybody and have them entranced in that bright smile within minutes. 

You’re young, just under 25 if Gabriel remembers correctly from snooping through your files, but you are still sharp and capable. An asset to any team you end up on. Still, your hands seem to have remained unmistakably clean. You’ve never had to take a shot, swing a sword, end a human life. Gabriel doesn’t have that same privilege. 

He’s heard the word monster thrown at him more times than he can count. They aren’t exactly wrong, of course. Any person would look at the things he’s done, the lives he’s ended, and call him a monster. But it was for a reason, wasn’t it? Either way, the name doesn’t matter much to him. He has long since gotten used to taking lives and the consequences that come with it, regardless of if it is for a greater good or not. 

You bring your champagne glass to your lips, savoring the bubbles dancing along your tongue and down your throat. Fancy dinner parties are not exactly your cup of tea, but it’s part of your job. The sponsor that you’re talking to currently drones on about something you can hardly focus on. You throw in a few polite nods and agreements, trying to seem interested in the conversation. A soft lace mask covers your eyes, the theme of this party being masquerade. It made the night slightly easier, though you’re sure anybody here can recognize you through it. 

You hear footsteps behind you and the hair on the back of your neck stands. You feel his presence before you turn around, and you’re not surprised to come face to face with Reyes. His mask covers almost his entire face, shaped similarly to a skull. Some brown hair peeks out above it, littered with a few grey flecks. It’s not surprising to see him in a mask (he wears one all the time around base), but what is surprising about him is seeing him in a suit. 

“I trust you’re treating my colleague well?” He grumbles out, facing toward the sponsor. It’s a polite act as a man in charge, but him using the word “my” to apply to you sparks a warmth in your stomach. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t find him attractive. He’s mysterious, dark, brooding, and his voice rumbles through your bones every time he speaks. Though, he seems like the strictly off-limits guy, not to mention the age difference. 

“Ah, of course,” the sponsor says, before the two start rattling off into a conversation you can’t even force yourself to pay attention to. You excuse yourself politely and sneak out of the banquet hall, your lungs begging for breath not laced with expensive alcohol and clammy rich men. 

You step into one of the base’s guest bedrooms, then out of the balcony. The waves crash a few feet away from you, and the air tinted with saltwater hugs your lungs. The dress you chose to wear starts to itch against your skin, clearly not meant to be worn for extensive periods of time. 

“You okay?” A voice calls from behind you, making you jump. You were so entranced in watching the waves that you didn’t hear the person coming. You turn to find Reyes standing in the balcony doorway, the curtain blowing softly in the wind. 

“Yeah, just got a little stuffy,” you mutter out. “And I’m a little out of my element.”

“You were doing just fine, and you look the part, so there’s nothing to worry about. It’s all about confidence,” he says back, watching the way you start to shiver under the moonlight.

“Look the part?” 

“Yeah…sexy, enticing,” he leans against the doorframe, his muscular figure backlit by the bedroom lights. “That sort of thing.”

“Oh, uh…” you start to say, your cheeks heating at the compliment. It’s entirely unlike him to say such things, and that fact has you stumbling over your words. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” is all he offers as a response. You nod awkwardly, then try to move past him. 

“Guess we better get back to it, huh?” You say, accidentally touching his hand as you try to inch past him.

Coming after them was a mistake. A voice rings out in Gabriel’s head. He pushes it away, even though time seems to stop as he feels your touch for the first time. Soft, tender, innocent. Something he doesn’t deserve. If he were a better man, maybe he would let you walk away, forget about the way your touch felt like freedom. He’d move on, let you find somebody worthy of bright love, but he’s not. He’s always been a villain. 

For the first time, he uses his abilities on an ally. He slips into wraith form quietly, moving like a cloud until he’s blocking your path to the door. A hint of surprise fills those bright eyes, your mouth hanging slightly open. God, what he would do to see what that mouth is capable of. 

“Reyes?” You question. Your path is now blocked, not that you wanted to go back to the party. 

“You look like temptation,” he growls out, but still keeps a foot or so between you two. You’re too stunned, too scared, to move. What if you do and it all stops? You don’t want that. Your heart picks up in your chest as you process his words. 

“Then what’s stopping you?” You say back breathlessly. The two of you have had tension, undoubtedly, for a while now, but he’s never gone this far. 

“Little ghost, I have scars older than you,” he says, taking a step forward. You hold your ground, trying and failing to ignore the heat building up in your stomach. 

“You don’t seem to be somebody that cares much about taboos, Reyes,” you say back, staring into his dark eyes. They pools of brown swim under the mask, looking like there’s a fire ablaze behind them. 

“I’m not,” Reyes says, then moves slowly, slower than you’ve ever seen him. He takes a few steps forward, looking down at you like a beast with cornered prey. Though, you’re not really cornered. He’s giving you time and space to get away, but you wouldn’t dare take it. You close the gap between the two of you, your hands wrapping up around his neck. He shudders under your touch, slipping his mask away quickly so he can press his lips to yours. 

Fuck. 

If Gabriel believed in a god, he’d think this was Heaven. Gabriel’s cock hardens in his pants the second your lips are on his. He thought perhaps he was incapable of feeling such things now, but your lips on his, they make him rethink everything. Your hands snake around the back of his neck and pull on his hair slightly, then you bite down on his bottom lip. He grunts into the kiss, his hands finding your hips and pushing you back until you’re up against the wall.

He braces one hand against the wall, then snakes the other up under your dress. You gasp softly when his hand traces lightly over your underwear, and the sound brings his dead soul to life again. 

Reyes pulls his kiss away to watch how you react when his fingers softly trace over your underwear. It’s the first time you’ve truly seen him without a mask. He has what resembles burn marks on one side of his face, and a scar across one of his eyebrows. As he notices you looking at his maskless face, he pushes down on your clit through your underwear. You gasp, your back arching off of the wall from just that touch. 

“Call me a monster if you want, Little Ghost. It’ll only make me harder,” he mutters, pressing his lips to your neck and biting softly. You squirm against him, your body begging for more than what he is giving you. 

“Please,” you mutter out, pushing your hips towards him to try to get any amount of friction you can. The last amount of control, or whatever it was that was holding him back, seems to snap the second you pathetically beg for him. His hand wraps around the band of your underwear and yanks, ripping the fabric as it is pulled off of your body. His fingers find your core and he pushes against your clit again. You reel, his rough and calloused skin making your core ache for more.

“Fucking soaked for me, hm?” He growls. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he pulls back and leaves you whining. “Be patient, Little Ghost. Good girls get rewards.”

He starts to unbuckle his pants, pushing them down his muscular thighs. His cock springs free, and you clench at the sight. He’s big, bigger than anything you’ve seen before. 

He moves quickly, clearly unable to wait any longer (not that you could wait either), and balls your dress up past your hips. He lines himself up at your entrance, then pushes in in one swift movement. It leaves you crying out his name and whimpering.

Gabriel was wrong. Your lips aren’t heaven. This is. You take him so fucking perfectly, it’s like you were made for him. Such a bright, sweet face, now with scrunched brows and soft whimpers as they take his cock. It’s like a reward he doesn’t deserve. Your hands find your way to his back and your nails dig in through his shirt. The pain eggs him on even more. His thrusts are hard and unforgiving as he pushes into you. You cry out his name over and over again like a prayer.

A dark part of his mind is overwhelmed with the urge to come inside you, mark you as his, tarnish you. Somebody that is basically the human embodiment of sunshine getting fucked relentlessly by a monster like him? Nobody else can have that. You’re his now, irrevocably. 

Your orgasm approaches you quickly, and you’re unable to hold back your moans as you clench down on Reyes’s cock. Your head falls against his shoulder as he continues thrusting. 

“I want…you to…come inside,” you stutter out in between soft moans. The thought of it has your body heating up again. You’ve been on birth control for ages now, and you need him in a way that you didn’t even believe possible. 

His hand sneaks in between the two of you and starts working your clit as he fucks you against the wall. White dots start to litter the corners of your eyes, tears pricking out at the overstimulation, but you enjoy every second of it. Your second orgasm comes quickly, and right as yours hits you, Reyes’s hits him as well. He grunts as he finishes inside you, then pulls out. You feel both of your releases drip down your thighs, for a split second, before he tracks it up with his finger and pushes it all back in. You shudder when he does, your core far too sensitive for it. You try to walk, but stumble, and he catches you in his arms. 

“Come on, Little Ghost, let’s get you cleaned up,” he carries you carefully to the attached bathroom and turns on the shower, letting the water warm up as he helps you out of your dress and takes your jewelry off. 

“Next time, I’ll be slower,” he says as his finger ghosts along your bare chest. “I want to worship this body.”

Next time? A smirk falls on your lips at the thought, and the implication. This was not a one-time thing for him, and that leaves you with a mind full of excitement, even as he steps into the shower with you. 

[chillinglyadventurous]

Spooktober Day 22 - “Wait, shut up and listen. Do you hear chanting?”

The crisp, early autumn air clung to your skin as you walked alongside Ford and the twins. The four of you had decided on a late showing of a horror movie, something that left the twins buzzing with excitement, but had you on edge. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the deserted street. Every now and then, the wind would whistle through the trees, adding an extra layer of unease to the already spooky night.

Dipper and Mabel, walking ahead, were chattering loudly about their favorite scenes. Mabel excitedly recounted every jump scare while Dipper tried to break down the plot’s many supernatural twists.

“You seemed a little jumpy back there, dear,” Ford’s voice was soft beside you and, when you glanced at him, there was that knowing smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. His hand brushed against yours.

His presence always made you feel safe no matter what weirdness Gravity Falls threw your way. “Just not a fan of the whole ‘things lurking in the shadows’ vibe,” you admitted, smiling back.

You were about to say something else, hand reaching for Ford’s when you stopped. A rhythmic beat a voices came from nearby. The sound was chilling, causing the little hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

“Wait,” you whispered, glancing at Ford, who paused, concern flashing across his face. “Shut up and listen. Do you hear chanting?”

Ford stilled and the twins quieted too. The night seemed impossibly quiet for a moment, but, then, faintly, you heard it, a low, rhythmic murmur, barely audible over the wind.

Dipper’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting to the nearby trees. “That’s not the wind, is it?”

“No,” you said, voice hushed, ears straining to make out the words in the indecipherable chant. The sound sent a chill down your spine like something ancient was stirring beneath the surface of the peaceful night. “It’s coming from over there.” You pointed toward a dark cluster of trees at the edge of the road.

Ford’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in the direction of the sound. “Stay close,” he said, his voice now a low murmur. His hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly as he led the group toward the sound, his curiosity piqued, but his protective instincts stronger.

The chanting grew louder as you approached the tree line, the words still indistinguishable and filled with an unsettling cadence. Mabel tugged at Dipper’s sleeve, her earlier enthusiasm for the night’s adventure replaced by nervous energy.

Ford glanced back at the twins. “I’m going to check it out. You three-“

“Don’t you dare say ‘stay here,’” you interrupted, gripping his hand a little tighter.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, trusting your judgment. The four of you crept closer, the trees now looming over you. The chanting was unmistakable now, eerie and hypnotic, drawing you in. You exchanged a glance with Ford.

A sudden snap of a twig made you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. The chanting stopped abruptly, leaving the night in a heavy, suffocating silence. Ford’s grip on your hand tightened as his gaze scanned the dark woods. The twins stood close.

You were about to speak when, suddenly, the group turned to face you. A sigh of relief came from Dipper and Mabel who were tucked safely between you and Ford. “It’s just those Blind Eye jerks,” Dipper laughed.

“The what?” Ford asked. His eyes widened when he saw the eye embroidered onto the group’s cloaks. A large X drawn square in the middle.

Dipper shrugged as he pulled Mabel along. He glanced back at you and Ford, the two of you watching the mysterious gathering watch you. “Just ignore them,” he laughed. “They’ll forget they even saw us, anyways.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” one figure hissed, voice dripping with malice.

Mabel placed her hands on her hips. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she pointed a finger at the figure. “Woodpecker guy, I swear, I will tell your wife about how I saw you with a blue jay this morning!”

[tisayemate]

Here

PostAzkaban!Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader

Angst, fluff (comfort)

Summary: A chance encounter in Grimmauld Place leads Sirius Black and a former classmate to find solace in each other’s company.

AN: **spoilers, please skip this and head on over to the story if you don’t want spoilers** So I had no intention to sneak in the kiss but as I planned this out, I realised it flowed and sort of fit the vibe I was going for so I hope yall enjoy it.

——————————————————————————————————————

The dim lighting of Grimmauld Place cast long shadows across the hallway as you quietly made your way down the worn floorboards, your hand lightly brushing the wall. You hadn't been here long, only a few days helping with Order business, but the house still unsettled you. It was filled with history and weight—just like the man who lived there.

You paused at a door you hadn't noticed before, curiosity tugging at you, but before you could move, a low voice came from behind.

“You always had a habit of poking your nose where it didn’t belong.”

The sarcasm was unmistakable. You turned to find Sirius standing behind you, arms crossed, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes held that familiar glint of mischief, but there was something else there too—something quieter, wearier.

“Sirius,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “I wasn’t—”

“Exploring?” he interrupted, stepping closer. “Just taking a leisurely stroll through my family’s personal mausoleum?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, folding your arms defensively. “I wasn’t snooping. Just... familiarizing myself.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Right. Because walking around in the dead of night is the best way to get acquainted with a place.”

There was a beat of silence as his teasing words hung in the air. You studied him for a moment—the same Sirius Black you remembered from Hogwarts, but different, aged in ways that went deeper than the lines on his face. He still had that sharp wit, the biting humor, but you could see the exhaustion behind his eyes, the pain he kept hidden beneath the surface.

“Old habits die hard,” you said softly, stepping back from the door.

Sirius chuckled under his breath, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

The tension between you wasn’t hostile, but it was there—an unspoken understanding, a shared knowledge of darker times. He watched you closely as you moved toward the small window at the end of the hall, the moonlight barely illuminating the worn wood beneath your feet.

“I never really noticed you much at school,” he said suddenly, his tone less teasing, more thoughtful. “Slytherin, right?”

“Not exactly in your inner circle,” you replied quietly, looking out at the moonlit street. “But we had classes together.”

“I know.” He was closer now, though you didn’t turn to face him. You could feel his presence, the warmth of him standing just behind you. “You always seemed... different.”

You smiled faintly at that. “Not all Slytherins fit the mold.”

There was a pause, and then you heard him exhale softly. “I missed a lot, didn’t I?”

You finally turned to face him, catching the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he looked away. “We’ve all missed things.”

Sirius leaned back against the wall, arms still crossed, his usual smirk replaced with something more thoughtful, more tired. "Seems like all I’ve been doing since Azkaban is missing things. Time. People. Myself.”

His voice trailed off, and the rawness of it surprised you. There was no bravado here, no sarcasm to cover up the scars. Just him. Just Sirius. And for a moment, you saw the man beneath the layers of wit and pain.

“You’re still here,” you said quietly. “That counts for something.”

He gave a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Some days, I’m not so sure.”

You stepped forward, your hand reaching out without thinking, lightly brushing against his arm. He stiffened at the touch, his gaze snapping to yours, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d crossed a line. But then, something shifted in his expression—just the smallest crack in the walls he’d built around himself.

“You’re not alone, Sirius,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “You don’t have to be.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of your words settling between you. There was something in his eyes that spoke of years of isolation, of mistrust and pain, but also something else—a longing, buried deep, for connection.

Sirius let out a breath, his usual defenses faltering. “And what about you? Why are you here, really?”

You smiled faintly, stepping just a little closer. “Maybe I’m trying to remind you of what you still have.”

He looked down, shaking his head slightly, though there was a hint of something softer in his expression. “You’re too kind for this place. Too kind for me.”

You felt your heart tighten at that, the quiet self-deprecation in his voice cutting deeper than any of his sarcastic remarks had. Without thinking, you took another step closer, your hand finding his, your fingers brushing lightly against his.

Sirius looked down at the contact, then up at you, his gaze intense and searching. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy with something unspoken. Then, almost imperceptibly, he squeezed your hand back, his touch tentative, as if he was afraid to let himself feel it.

“I’m not looking for a savior,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“I’m not offering to save you,” you replied softly. “Just to be here.”

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, but before you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you. The kiss wasn’t hurried or desperate; it was slow, careful—two people finding their way through the darkness together. His hand came up to cup your face, the touch surprisingly gentle, as though he wasn’t quite sure this was real.

And in that moment, you knew—he didn’t need saving. He just needed someone to be there with him, to remind him that there was still light, even in the shadows.

[legendl0re]

A Court of Peace and Ire, Chapter 1: A Little Night In Spring

The full first chapter of A Court of Peace and Ire, a Tamlin healing arc fanfic featuring actual acknowledgement of wrongdoing, conversations to actually heal the divide of Prythian, with a little bit of Neris vibes and whatever else I feel like putting in here.

This is my first ever fanfic for ACOTAR and I wrote it in a feral haze, so please be gentle. Also warning, this is a Pro-Tamlin fanfic. If you're not a fan of Tamlin, scroll on. The full fic will be on AO3 once I get a damn account, but i feel this could work as a one-shot by itself.

Trigger Warnings: Slight su*c*dal ideation, depression

--

Tamlin wondered what day it was, awakening to the sun spearing into his eyes through broken slats. A huff blew through his nose, deepened and heavy by the huling shape of his bestial form. 

Having golden fur didn’t help, his pelt sucking in all the light in an auric bloom and making it difficult for him to look at himself. 

Well, more difficult…

He had stopped bothering to clamor up the steps to his own bed at night, opting to let the weight of melancholy send him huddling into the corner of his foyer. It was cold, and it bothered him, but he didn’t deserve much warmth. 

Didn’t deserve much of anything actually, beyond incessant tirades from the High Lord of the Night Court and the occasional drop off from Lucien; a friend that was wasted on him. 

The High Lord of Spring ran his long beast-tongue over his teeth; he was glad Lucien had found true friends in this so-called Band of Exiles he had formed. The name was fitting, but Tamlin hoped that Jurian and that mortal queen would treat him better than he had.

Tamlin tucked into himself more, as if to brace himself for the great mental fall into his own dread. Everyone had fled, left his service, left his side, all for the things he had done and allowed to be done on his watch. Whipped sentries, predatory priestesses, letting the devil Hybern slither through his land to poking holes in the walls, and rend Children Of the Blessed apart like crows with corpse-flesh.

Such an immense, spectacular failure would be emblazoned in the history books soon enough, and Tamlin would probably also be cursed to see it consumed and discussed by the next generation of Fae. He couldn’t starve himself, couldn’t let dehydration sap him to a husk, and every beast and briggand he had come across during the days he actually got up to patrol, were all no match for even a sliver of his magic and strength.

Such is the strength of the High Lord, especially of Spring; “blessed” to never wilt. Doomed to never die a “passive” death.

High Lord. The one thing Tamlin never wanted to be, and the thing that Rhysand and his father damned him to become.

Tamlin heard a sound of wind rumbling through leaves; the unmistakable sound of winnowing. It came from down the hall past the stairs, and the High Lord braced himself for Rhysand and more of his half hearted attempts to reach out.

And indeed, a fae did march in with dark hair and eyes of glimmering blue, but he was barely two feet tall and had a set of dark pajamas ordained with stars. Two vestigial wings peaked out from behind him, and he held a plush night-beast in his tiny hands.

Tamlin swallowed, caught somewhere between genuine curiosity and terrible dread as the boy turned and gazed at him, eyes wide as he took in the High Lord of Spring’s animal shape. 

He braced for a wail, a cry of fear at the sight of him, but it ever came. Instead, the boy smiled and made his way down the hall in a slow but resolved toddle, his intent clear as he dropped his toy to free his hands.

Out of instinct and a spark of hatred from the boy’s resemblance, Tamlin craned his neck and growled, teeth flashing in the light of day. But the boy only paused, cocked his head to the side, then kept right on walking until he was inches away.

 Either the child was too young to yet know fear, or the Illyrian in him refused to let him back down, to ignore the danger in the pursuit of his goal. And he indeed reached it, pushing his small hands against Tamlin’s muzzle and running his fingers through the fur.

At the touch, Tamlin was utterly paralyzed, save for one twinge of the nose as he sniffed the air above the boy’s head.

He knew who this was, knew it in his blood and heart and bones, the smell a mixture of a familiar pair that had melded into something new.

It was his son. 

This was Rhysand’s son…by Feyre.

The Heir to the Night Court was in Tamlin’s manor, and was fucking petting him.

--

Mother above, what did kids his age eat?

Tamlin scoured his kitchen and cabinets for something to give the kid. A vicious rumble rose from the boy’s belly after about two minutes of roving over the High Lord’s snout, but his face hadn’t lost the pout he made when Tamlin changed back into a Fae. At least he didn’t start crying, thank the gods.

Two lone jars of applesauce rested in the dark shadows of the cupboard, Tamlin picking them up and searching them for any signs of rot or wasting. Thankfully, neither was present. “Guess you’ll have to do.” 

He turned back, unscrewed the top, and gently laid the green mushed mixture across a wooden plate he fished out, topping it off with a mismatched spoon before placing it down in front of the child.

The boy glanced up at him, utterly lost to the purpose of the silverware.

“What?” Tamlin said, eyes narrowing as the part-Illyrian shoved his tiny hand into his tiny mouth. “Oh, gods. No. I’m not feeding you.” Tamlin pushed the plate closer to him, and as if intent to push his buttons, the boy pounded his hand into the sauce and scooped it into his mouth, dribbling down his chin and onto the floor.

Tamlin hadn’t cared about a clean floor for years, but somehow that got him on his feet. A rag found its way into his hands, wiping the mess from the kid’s face and hand before getting the rest off the floor. Then he remembered that he had gods-damned magic, and that he could have just made it all vanish at a whim.

He really had been out of it, hadn’t he?

The kid made to dip his fingers in the apple sauce again, the High Lord halting him and reluctantly picking up the spoon. Carefully, he caught a spoonful and brought it to the boy’s mouth, a groan bursting from his lips as the child ate, then smiled with full cheeks.

“Cauldron boil me, what am I doing?” Tamlin asked himself, even as he picked up another bite for the kid to take.

He looked so much like Rhysand, minus the cool, daylight blue of his eyes, young and wide with wonder. It reminded him of the first day she had come, how in awe she was of his manor, of the world of the fae at large…of Tamlin himself.

The High Lord caught a drop of sauce before it stained the boy’s clothes. He had to have winnowed here by accident, a consequence of his already burgeoning power. Even at his young age, Tamlin could feel it, a smoldering ember that would blaze right past both him and Rhysand once he reached adulthood . 

The fact that Tamlin had not kept up with his wards didn’t help matters either, but still, why would he have ended up here of all places? He figured Rhys would have probably spelled the boy to never come within miles of Tamlin’s Court, yet here he was: Rhys’ son.

Feyre’s son…

Something in Tamlin dropped, a heavy weight whose rope had finally snapped. He held no hope of Feyre ever returning, of there ever being some chance for reconciliation. But the presence of this boy, the manifestation of her and Rhysand’s love for one another, the finality of it was a cold shard to his heart. He should hate this boy, be doing everything in his power to banish and scare him from the manor. But then he remembered exactly whose words—whose feelings—those were. 

The echoes of his father and his brothers circled around him, telling him the boy was a grave reminder of his failures, a taunt or some kind of trap to give Rhys the excuse he needed to rip out Tamlin’s throat once and for all. 

The second he harmed a hair on his head, the High Lord of Night would come and indulge in his violent delights.

Tamlin broke from his thoughts, noticing that he had paused with the spoon just out of reach for the boy to eat. He brought it down to let the kid feast, and in time the entire bowl of applesauce was gone.

As Tamlin cleaned the bowl, his eyes lingered on the rest of the dishes, the disgusting stack that had grown from his immense negligence. He cleaned about seven more than he intended, before noticing the part-Illyrian had gotten up and began waddling, keen to collect the night-beast toy he had discarded.

Tamlin walked and sat on the step leading to the foyer, watching the kid mimic the growls and hisses of the beast in emulation.

“Your parents must be worried about you.” He said, knowing the kid wasn’t paying attention. Visions of Rhysand tearing his manors apart, soaring over the night skies in search of his son, Feyre worried sick and hunting right alongside him, bow in hand in case of any danger.

 It should have brought Tamlin comfort, to imagine them so harried, so desperate and worried and willing to do whatever it took to find him, just as he had done…

But it didn’t.

The High Lord of Spring flicked his gaze back to the boy, catching in the middle of a yawn as he exhausted himself. His  half-lidded pale blue eyes struggled to stay open, but he shuffled up and approached Tamlin at the steps, his tiny hand tugging on the high fae’s pants. Tamlin’s brow rose, unsure as to what the kid was trying to tell him, until the heir of the Night Court pushed and nuzzled his head against Tamlin’s side.

“Are you…are you ordering me to change?” The boy’s head rose, his blank stare holding save for a single blink. He was. He was asking him to turn back into his beast form so he could fucking sleeping on him!

Tamlin almost laughed. Only a toddler and he was just as indignant and entitled as Rhysand was. He had half a nerve to scoop the kid up, winnow straight into the Night Court, and drop him off right then and there.

But he didn’t.

Instead Tamlin sighed, letting himself fall back into that golden, antler-crowned form and sloping down at the base of the stairs. The boy laughed and giggled, happy to see the great beast once again, and quickly made himself comfortable laying down at Tamlin’s gilded flank. 

The High Lord waited, held still and calm until he heard the soft breaths to sleep. He inched up slightly but the boy didn’t stir. Made sense that the heir of the Night Court was a heavy sleeper. He shifted and caught the boy in a masterful flair of magic, picking him up and gently moving to stand as he thought on what to do.

Did he send a fucking missive? “Hey, your kid wandered into my mansion and I was wondering if you wanted him back.”

No. No, he would have to go himself. Have to winnow in with no notice and explain everything, and hope that the gods were kind enough to grace the Night Court with enough patience for him.

He watched the boy sleep, and sighed. This was their child; Rhys and Feyre would have no patience for any story, any excuse, especially from him.

Tamlin let the shadows of his power coil around him, praying to the Mother that the sound of winnowing wouldn’t wake the boy, and as he felt the cool bite of frosted grass under his bare feet, he opened his eyes and found the kid still asleep.

Seems the gods were kind today.

Gazing up to the massive soap-stone colored tower, Tamlin lost himself in the coiling darkness of the night above, in the quilt of stars that peered through the clouds.

He hadn’t been here in years, and he didn’t realize just how much he missed the sky here until now.

The boy stirred in his hands, reminding him of his mission, and Tamlin skulked carefully towards the back door of the yard he now realized he was in. A small quilt sat at the edge of a stone bench, and he quickly wrapped the boy in it so as to beat back the Night Court chill.

Laying him down carefully, Tamlin brushed a small curl out from his face and stood to leave, but not before noticing a set of banners and decorations through the back door’s window. Frills and starlight-colored decorations flanked a trio of Italic letters: “N, Y, X.”

“Nyx.” Tamlin repeated, smirking at the irony of it. Some kind of celebration had been had, the decorations left up for some time, either out of pure laziness or lack of time on the boy’s parents’ part. Then the door within the party room suddenly opened, swift movement sending Tamlin scuttling behind the bench.

When the sound of the back door opening never came, he peeked out, and his heart shuddered at the sight within.

Feyre, face stained and garbed in a dark sweater, stood there speaking frantically to another girl with the same colored hair; probably one of her sisters. A dirty paintbrush was nestled in the bun she had put her hair in, and it was clear she was on the verge of crying with how upset she was.

Tamlin kicked himself; he should have bought the kid back sooner. Damn the crying or the hunger or the petty revenge, or whatever strange compulsion that made him keep the boy around this long.

This was his life, and his mother was worried sick.

Tamlin’s hand dropped and picked up a small piece of gravel, arching back in preparation to tap the glass before winnowing back to the safety—and loneliness—of Spring. He only paused when a pair of sleepy blue eyes stared back up at him.

Damnit, he was awake.

The boy was putting two and two together despite the haze of slumber, sitting up and reaching out for the High Lord as he reeled back, threw the tiny stone, and winnowed out of the yard before he could even hear the tap of its landing.

Nyx, alone in the of the estate garden, began to cry.

[3-2-whump]

HIT!

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For those of you who celebrate it, happy Fourth. For conscientious objectors like me, happy free day! I can't believe I'm posting this chapter on (American) Independence Day, but honestly, there's nothing more American than random acts of gun violence.

NOTE: This is where shit gets real (more real, that is), and where the author may make some decisions that might not vibe with the readers. To those readers, all I will say is fanfiction is a thing, canon divergence is a thing, and I will honestly be more intrigued than mad if you end up scrapping this part and writing your own version! (Just lmk, like tag me or dm me so I can see?) But, um, yeah, onto the chapter!

TW/CW: guns, gunshot wounds, blood, emergency first aid, sort of medical whump, emotional angst

“Hell of a day, wasn’t it!” Thomas exclaimed as he pulled out of the gate.

Khaled only offered a noncommittal hum from the passenger seat.

“Least it’s over now,” the older man huffed. He picked up the speed as they entered one of the main roads, far away from the residential side of the city. He punched a few buttons on his dash, tossing the phone to his passenger. “Make sure my phone is connected.”

“It is,” Khaled answered. The sound of late nineties punk rock soon blared through the speakers and competed with the faint clicking sound of the blinker as they rolled to a stop at a red light. 

“So, you ready to go to the gym tonight and do our usual routines before we settle in?”

“Sorry, but I kind of just want to go home tonight, Master,” Khaled murmured. He’d been in a bit of an emotional slump all day, and the last thing he wanted to do that evening was to end the day with a run on the treadmill.

“What, are you sick or something?” Khaled didn’t respond. Inexplicably, Thomas changed his tone. “Fine, I’ll drop you off at home, then I’ll go by myself,” he sighed.

The light eventually turned green. The car rushed forward and gained speed as it merged onto the highway. Khaled zoned out, leaning his head against the window as he watched the other cars zip by. A motorcycle weaved in and out of traffic lanes. He felt a pang of nostalgia in his heart, though he wasn’t sure why. A brief murmur from the driver’s seat about how they needed to stop for gas barely scratched the surface of his consciousness. He was still hung up on that motorcycle.

They pulled into a gas station just outside the downtown area. Khaled felt the car parking and heard the door opening as his master stepped out to fuel up the car. He’d been dissociating a lot more since The Incident, taking refuge in his own mind and hiding from the world. His master had been keeping his distance since then, too. In those few times where he didn’t visit a whorehouse since The Incident, he would take his time with Khaled and fuck him much slower and more carefully than what either of them were used to. Whether it be out of guilt or genuine penitence remained to be seen, but this time, he knew better than to ask. This was just the new normal, now.

The unmistakable sound of a shot ripped through his inner thoughts. A heavy thump onto the ground soon followed. Khaled’s head whipped around; his master was not outside the car. He unbuckled the seatbelt and opened the car door with a shaky hand as he let himself out. “Sir?” He slowly made his way around the car, heart pounding in his ears and dread coiling in his stomach as he looked down between the car and the gas pump.

Khaled would never forget that sight as long as he lived. There lay his master, face up on the ground, with a telltale bullet hole in his chest that steadily seeped blood around the entry wound. Khaled’s tall foreboding owner, the man who once seemed impossibly invincible, now lay wounded (dying?) in front of a gas station pump.

“K-Khaled?” a voice weakly called from below.

The young man stood frozen, staring down at the man below him.

“Get my phone…call the ambulance…” Thomas huffed through ragged breaths.

He thought he could hear other voices –a crowd forming. Though, honestly, he could barely hear anything above the pounding of his heart and the mess of thoughts and feelings within his head.

“Khaled!”

It’s finally happening, he thought with delight in his mind before immediately switching to guilt and horror that he was cheering over someone’s demise. He’s finally –but wait, if he dies, then …I’ll be free, he realized.

“Can you hear me, boy?”

A bystander rushed over, kneeling next to the mob boss to check on him, but he stubbornly waved them away, pushing himself up from where he fell, wincing as he left behind a puddle of blood on the ground.

I’ll be… free, Khaled realized. Freedom hadn’t felt this attainable for him since he was a child on his third or fourth escape attempt, with every running footfall charged with hope that maybe this time it would work.

Hope. He’d forgotten how good it felt. I’ll be free …

…but, then what?

“Get my phone –now!” Thomas slipped, losing balance on the arm he had propped himself up on to fall back into his pool of blood. He swatted away the helping hand of the stranger who had come to check on him.

He’s given me everything, Khaled remembered. The roof over my head, the clothes on my back, the food in my belly. And if he dies, would all of that just be…taken away…? The weight of that realization combined with the increasing attention they were getting from an ever-growing crowd to exert a pressure on Khaled like he’d never felt before.

“Khaled! For Christ’s sakes,” Thomas yelled, gasping in pain. “Phone! Now!”

His body moved before the rest of his thoughts could catch up, opening the car door and retrieving the boss’ cellphone. He gripped it with a shaking hand and a sweaty palm as he crouched down next to his master and handed him the phone. The man took it between bloodied fingers and punched in his passcode with great difficulty as he huffed in annoyance and pain. There was no need for him to be calling 911 on himself, because at least three other people in the crowd had their phones out and up to their ears, presumably doing the same thing.

Before Khaled could ask what to do next, the good Samaritan next to them said, “Sit him up, and check his back for an exit wound!” Thomas groaned as they hauled him up into a sitting position.  “If it came out the other end, that’s good. If it didn’t then-” A hole about the size of a table grape gaped through the back of the expensive suit jacket, dripping with blood and raw flesh from within.

A wave of nausea hit Khaled as he propped his master up against the gas pump. “It-It’s out, ma’am,” he confirmed.

“Great, okay, yeah. Now, get his handkerchief out of his pocket, and use it to stem the bleeding,” the bystander instructed. “Don’t be afraid to stick it in there.”

The boss' face writhed in discomfort as Khaled dabbed around the bullet wound. Tortured groans escaped clenched teeth as Khaled packed the blood-wicking cloth into the wound, but the stranger patted his back and cradled his master’s head against her chest as she whispered reassurances into his ear. “Just like that, you’re doing great, kid!” The peal of sirens was coming closer, which meant help was on the way soon. Khaled meanwhile, sat back on his heels, nervously chewing his lip as he tried to make sense of why he was helping his abuser. When the EMTs finally loaded the man into the back of the ambulance to take them to the hospital, he was no closer to finding an answer.

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