#of course if you put it together then you can still solve it

[probablygayattorneys]

You know, this game really isn’t very nice to those of us who didn’t buy it firsthand and are instead playing loose copies we found out back behind the Pizza Hut while meeting the guy with blue hair who says he can see the future.

[luveline]

Hi!! Sometimes in ur bombshell reader fics she talks about how she has nervous energy would u ever write a bombshell reader fic where she has one of those days where she just woke up wired and Spencer tries to calm her down?

“Spencer,” you whisper. 

“What?” 

Spencer turns another page. You, across from him with your legs crossed, slouched, poke at his leg gently with your foot. “What are you reading?” 

“It’s just a book on Wyoming land boundaries.” 

You nod. Spencer watches you from across the top of his book, at first without worry, and then an attentiveness that furthers all the reasons you may or may not be in love with him. 

“You okay?” 

Everything should be fine. The case is solved. You’re heading home, without turbulence, two hours at most from touching down after a job well done. “I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You smile fraughtly. You try your best to be the perfect image, to put that best foot forward, and you nail it ninety nine days out of a hundred. Nobody knows about your nervousness besides you, and that’s how you’d like it to stay, but Spencer clearly cares about you too much to look away. 

He closes his book and sets in on the table, pushing a glass into his hand. “Here,” he says, leaning forward. “It’s not poisoned.” 

You take it. Feeling his gaze, you drink a little sip that immediately goes down the wrong way. Your coughing swallow perturbs him worse. 

People tend to look at Spencer and see someone who needs more help. Even the people closest to him can doubt his ability, but as far as you’re concerned he’s proven to understand emotion quite well. He won’t shake a stranger's hand, he can’t flirt to save his life without notice, but he can make you feel better. He’s good at taking care of you, even if nobody else can see it. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, leaning right over to touch both your knees at once. He pushes your skirt up a half inch with the movement, but his eyes are on your face. “You have the jitters?” 

“Think so,” you murmur. 

“Maybe it’s the air pressure.” 

You’re sure he knows you get like this sometime, but his explanation is kind. His hands on your knees are somehow strangely placed and still a natural feeling. Just like sitting together at his place to watch TV, or elbow to elbow on the train into New York, your boundaries with one another are eroding. 

“Wanna come and sit by me?” he asks, like he’s thinking the same thing. 

You laugh softly. “In all that space?” 

The seat is big enough for a larger person, but not you and Spencer together. 

He squeezes himself right to the side. “Come on,” he insists, sitting back, “just sit with me.” 

“I’ll squish you.” 

“So squish me.”

You think about it before setting your traded glass down. You don’t know why you have these weird moods, you don’t understand what it is about Spencer that can make them feel better, but he’s offering to make it go away. You have no real reason to turn him down. 

In the end, you sit in the chair beside him, ignoring Hotch’s perturbed look as you stand and then quickly plop yourself down at Spencer’s side. Your thigh has to go completely on top of his, but otherwise, it’s not so bad. It’s more room than you thought. 

It works quicker than you could imagine. With both of your heads held back the space between you is still minimal, which means his face is in detail. His hair brushed back and with the barest traces of gel, a little curled, what had Hotch said? His boyband hair.  

Spencer turns toward you, eye shadowed as he presses his forehead to the chair. “Is it just jitters?” he asks. 

“Sometimes I think I get… weird,” you say. 

“Me too.” He pulls your leg further into his lap. You’re shocked at first, but it’s a friendly move that takes the strain off of your knee. “Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course you can.” 

“I’ve started to care a whole lot less about being weird since I met you.” 

You fight the urge to touch his hair. “I don’t think it’s about caring, Spence, I just.. don’t feel right.” 

“Okay.” He nods sincerely. “Okay, well, we can work it out. We’re still hours from Virginia, you can turn your brain off. We can work it out.” 

You’re relieved to have him promise it. This isn’t the sort of thing you can work out, but it doesn’t matter, Spencer caring this much makes all the difference. You take a deep, deep breath, and you give him a grateful smile, before you rest your cheek on his shoulder. That’s just wanting, no weird feeling or jittering at the root of you as he lets a warm breath kiss your forehead, his nose pressing into your skin. 

“Don’t let anybody see,” you mumble. 

His next breath is a little shaky. “I won’t.”

See what, you’re not sure. But soon you start to feel less like you’re gonna try popping open an emergency window, and that’s enough for now. 

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 10: The Meeting

As the Megamycete watches as you stomp around your room and vent your frustrations about the last few days, it begins to wonder how the Bats came to remember their little black sheep and why they are so insistent you return to Gotham.

It searches through your memories and experiences all the sadness, fear, anger, hatred, and loneliness you experienced for years, all those emotions still so potent even after your departure from the manor four years ago, having been dredged up by their unwelcome visits. It was clear that, besides the butler, none of them considered you a part of their merry band of misfits, not even bothering to spare you a passing glance.

The exception to this is the youngest one, Damian, who constantly went out of his way to make your life harder by mocking you, hurting you, and releasing his menagerie of pets on you, forcing you to run through the endless halls of the mansion barricade yourself in the closest room you could find.

Now, after four years after your escape and maintaining little contact with the family butler, they show up on your door, one after the other, trying to force you to leave your perfect life for one that brought you nothing but pain and misery.

Why?

Why do they want you so much?

Why do they insist on you returning to a place you clearly hate?

Why do they now wish to give you the love they denied you for so long?

Why—

Wait, they are meeting in their little cave, gathering around the massive computer in the center of the massive cavern.

Its roots have long since surrounded the cave and it is still connected to the main colony back in Gotham, but when it took you as its host, it has had no need to tap into its roots to see the world above when it can see the world through your eyes and experience it through your senses.

Using its roots to see the outside world no longer has the same appeal when your senses are far more vibrant and provide far more detail.

When it proposed you become its host, it must admit, it never thought it would be so mutually beneficial. Of course, it would be able to leave the cavern and finally experience a world firsthand that had been forever just out of reach for over four-hundred years, but you would recover from your injuries and be akin to a god among men with your newfound abilities. You were the one who had more to gain from your joining, but it was willing to trade one prison for another if it meant finally seeing the world above and having someone to talk to.

But you proved it wrong.

When it became a part of you, you treated it like a person, not a thing. You value its input and alter your plans if it desires to see or experience something. You frequently talk to it, telling it things that you haven’t told anyone else and speaking to it like it was a lifelong friend.

It has no further use for that toxic city and its citizens when it has the warm haven of Goodsprings and you to keep it company.

It has come to admire you, even going as far as to see you as a friend and confidant, and wants nothing but the best for you as you so rightfully deserve and to see you suffer teaches it a new definition of rage.

“Running blood tests,” your failure of a father says as he types on the keyboard, causing a machine next to the massive device to make noises.

“If Master Y/N does test positive for the Meta Gene, what do you intend to do, Master Bruce,” the butler, the only one in this crowd it respects, asks.

“If Y/N is a meta, I’ll have to find out what his powers are and how to counter it.”

So that’s what this meeting is about, they managed to put the pieces together that you are no mere human. But how did they manage to get a sample of your blood? Since your joining, you have had no need for doctors as its influence makes you immune against common illnesses and diseases.

“Getting his blood was a simple task,” Damian taunts. “Honestly, this would have been solved already if you sent me, Father.”

Of course. It should have known the little menace gave up too easily.

While you hate Bruce Wayne in every sense of the word, Damian Wayne is right behind him. From the moment you met him, he went up of his way to make your life a living nightmare and was allowed to get away with impunity due to obvious favoritism from Dick Grayson.

The memory of Dick defending Damian after he gave you a scar made the Megamycete furious. No matter his upbringing, he had no right to harm you, and yet, he was allowed to draw his sword on you. It was only pure luck that you managed to move to avoid being critically wounded, only resulting in a scar.

The Megamycete has seen your many fantasies of hurting Damian and making him feel inferior and wants to help you make them a reality.

“Results are in,” Bruce announces, making them all crowd around the computer.

“No Meta Gene,” Tim remarks, staring at the monitor with alarming intensity.

“Yeah, but look,” Jason exclaims, pointing at one of the results. “He’s got something in him that doesn’t belong.”

“For once, Todd is right. The tests show foreign substances in his blood.”

“Wait,” Tim mutters as he leans over and begins typing on the computer, bringing up an extensive menu and going through various files. “That looks so familiar.” An image is pulled up on the monitor. “Here it is! The stuff in his blood matches the stuff found in what remained of Joker.”

Well, this is rather unfortunate. It had hoped that there would be very little of the clown left to examine after his execution by your hand, but as usual, these people cannot resist poking into areas they do not belong.

“If this is substance is in Master Y/N’s blood, does that mean he is responsible for Joker’s death?”

“Bruce, you can’t lock up Y/N after bringing him home,” Dick whines. “You have to admit, your thing with Joker was only going to end one way!”

“We don’t even know if Y/N killed Joker,” Tim interjects. “It’s possible this strain of mold was in both of them and Joker’s was somehow activated, killing him.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, Drake,” Damian responds, glaring at Tim. “That means that Y/N could be in danger. If I had my pick, I would he be responsible for Joker’s death. Knowing he can take down as formidable as the Joker is proof he is a Wayne and my brother.”

If it had eyes, the Megamycete would roll them. This insecure little terror spent years making it clear he saw you as an interloper into his “perfect world” and not as a brother and that you are a disgrace to the Wayne bloodline (although that bloodline was tainted far before you came to be). He has some nerve to call you his brother now.

It still made it angry that he had the nerve to critique your mother (your memories of her painted the woman as a saint) when his mother, the daughter of a millennium-old maniac with delusions of grandeur (yes, you are very aware of his familiar secrets) who drugged Bruce in order to bring him into the world.

“We need to bring him back here, Bruce,” Dick says, defusing a fight between the two. “If he’s in danger, he needs to be back home.”

“I agree,” Bruce responds. “Cass, you and I will go. I’ll distract him and while he’s busy yelling at me, you’ll sneak up behind him and inject him with a tranquilizer.”

The mute nods and the Megamycete wishes it has a mouth so it can scream. Not only is it offensive that they believe you are stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick, but that they believe they have the right to decide something like this on your behalf.

If they have failed to realize that you want nothing to do with them after you have yelled it at them, perhaps they will understand if it tells so itself.

And it knows the perfect form to take.

He stands up from the chair and makes his way to the armory where they keep the tranquilizers meant for the larger criminals, like Bane and Killer Croc.

He hates the thought of using such methods against you, but you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to come back to Gotham willingly and the discovery of this mysterious mold inside you has forced their hand.

Nevertheless, improvisation is one of their many skills, a requirement in their line of work. Once they have you back home, they’ll be able to conduct more in-depth tests and be able to find out what’s wrong with you and go from there.

As much as he hates the idea of you possibly being in pain and may even be in danger, he can’t deny there’s a small inside him that’s glad this has happened. This discovery accelerates their plans and will have you brought home far sooner.

And, there’s the chance that this mold may explain most of your hatred towards them. Sure, he knows you have every right to despise them, but when he saw the look in your eye when you pushed him down that night of the award ceremony. He could tell you enjoyed inflicting pain on him.

This stuff in you must’ve made your temper more volatile and made you lash out at them.

It’s the only explanation.

“Excuse us,” a familiar voice calls throughout the cave, stoping his dead in his tracks.

That voice… No, it can’t be. There’s no way…

He turns around to see you, standing in the cave, all of them looking right at you. The small smile on your face making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“We believe there are some things we should talk about,” you say as you walk closer to them, making his children back up with each step you take.

“No fucking way,” Jason remarks, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Wait,” Tim says as he rushes over to the computer and rapidly types on the keyboard. “You can’t be Y/N. His phone says he’s still in Goodsprings and we’ve been monitoring his GPS signal, so there’s no way you could’ve come all the way to Gotham from Nevada without us knowing!”

That’s right, they’ve been monitoring your phone ever since Alfred helped them remember you, tracking you every move and committing your searches, social media usage, and all your texts and phone calls. They would’ve done the same to your computers that are linked to your phone, but your cybersecurity is tougher than they anticipated (clearly custom) and they haven’t been able to crack the encryption.

He knew you were skilled at making videos games, but he didn’t know your skills with technology expanded into cybersecurity. Ever since they made that discovery, Tim’s spent nearly all day trying to pierce your firewalls, but hasn’t made any progress. He’s also made it clear he wants to have lengthy conversations on computers and programming with you once you’re back home.

So, you’re still in Goodsprings, so who the hell is this, why the hell would they take your form, and how the hell did they get into the Cave without setting off any of the dozens of alarms or sensors?

“Who are you” Damian hisses, taking a defensive posture. “And what gives you the right to assume the form of my brother?”

“You have some nerve calling him your brother,” the Not-You hisses back, the smile morphing into an all-too familiar snarl. “He is too good for you, for any of you.”

Even though he knows this isn’t you, hearing those words in your voice still hurts him.

“Do you know Master Y/N,” Alfred interjects, trying to bring tensions down, most likely so he can learn more from this person.

“Yes, we do,” Not-You responds, looking at the butler, the snarl morphing into a look of… admiration? “And we know you, Alfred Pennyworth. We know of you and how you helped him during his stay in this wretched mansion. You have our gratitude.”

“Look, whoever you are, stop taking Y/N’s form,” Steph exclaims. “You’re obviously a shapeshifter, so turn back to normal! Or the very least, take a different form!”

“Oh, do you all wish for us to take another form,” the Not-You asks, a ghost of a smirk gracing “your” face.

“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation.

It’s bad enough to see you look at them with such hatred, he won’t tolerate some imposter doing the same thing.

“Very well.”

Before them all, the Not-You turns into a shifting mass of some type of black organic mass before taking on a humanoid shape once again and Bruce’s heart stops when he takes in the new form.

“Hello, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

Not since that fateful night in Crime Alley.

“Good God,” Alfred says, his eyes wide and his jaw practically on the floor.

In front of them is his mother, every detail exactly how she was that night, still adorned in her favorite pearl necklace and wearing her green dress.

As he stares at her looking at him with those eyes that use to look at him with nothing less than unconditional love, he feels his breathing start to become erratic and eyes begin to mist up.

“What’s wrong, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in her voice (god, even her voice was exactly how he remembered) as they begin to walk towards him, making him step back. “I thought you would be happy to see me. It has been so long since I was killed.”

“No,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”

“But I am. Do you not see? I know everything you have done.” His mother’s face then morphs into a disgusted snarl, making him sick to his stomach. “And I am absolutely disgusted in you! Why did we have to die that night? Why not the disgrace we once called our son!”

He knows this isn’t his mother and she never would’ve called him a disgrace, but hearing those words in a voice he’s longed to hear for so long makes him want to cry.

He’s had dreams of seeing his mother’s in the flesh again and now he has to endure this berating? Is he truly that horrible of a man to deserve this?

“Stop it, you bitch,” Jason exclaims as he steps between Bruce and the shapeshifter. “Take another form or get the fuck outta here!”

“Oh, you want us to another form?” His… the shapeshifter shifts once again and in his mother’s place is…

“Hiya, Dead Hood,” Joker exclaims before exclaiming in that all-too familiar cackle and waving around a crow bar in his hand. “Did you miss me?”

It doesn’t take a detective to notice Jason tense up and his breathing stop; Joker left a mark on Jason that unfortunately will never be erased (another shortcoming that eats away at Bruce everyday) and whenever news of Joker escaping Arkham would bring up all the anger, fear, and sadness that was planted in Jason that night he died.

After Joker was killed, he noticed a weight seemed to be lifted off of Jason’s shoulders. Sure, he made jokes about the clown burning in hell, but Bruce could see he was genuinely happy and was ready to move on form that horrible chapter in his life.

And now, all that trauma is about to be dug back up after four years.

“You have five fucking seconds to take another form before I beat the shit outta you,” Jason says in a tone that says he means business, his eyes flickering into that shade of Lazarus green.

“How about this form,” the shapeshifter says in Joker’s voice before changing into John Grayson, making Dick tense up. “Or this form?” John Grayson then shifts into Janet Drake, making Tim tense up.

“Alright, you made your point,” Barbara shouts. “Just turn back into Y/N.”

And with that, the shapeshifter takes your form again.

“Who are you,” Bruce growls, pissed that his sons have had their trauma jabbed at. “We know you’re not Y/N, but you know him and us.”

You may call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete,” Tim asks. “So, you’re not human?”

“No, we are a super colony of mold given sentience via a Lazarus Pit.”

“Of course a fucking pit’s involved,” Jason mutters.

“What’s your tie to Y/N,” Dick interjects.

“Y/N is our host. Before, we were confined to a cavern beneath this city, but when we joined with him, we were freed from our prison.”

“So, you’re using him.”

The Megamycete glares at Bruce for his accusation.

“No, he and us operate on mutual trust and respect. Y/N is a respectable young man.” A smirk appears on “your” face. “A trait he clearly did not inherent from you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Even though this thing is probably the reason why you feel so much hate towards them, it still pains him to know this is his reality.

“Were you responsible for the Joker’s death,” Steph chimes in. “We found weird strains of mold in his remains and you’re a walking, talking pile of mold.”

“While we are not directly responsible for the Joker’s death, we do not deny we were involved. That night, Y/N took us out to Amusement Mile to celebrate when we learned the Joker was sighted in an arcade. Upon seeing the many deaths left in his wake, our host took matters into his own hands and eliminated the biggest threat this city had ever seen.” It gives Bruce a wide smirk. “In a single night, our host did more to help Gotham than you and your brood have done in years.”

Knowing you were responsible for killing Joker didn’t sit well with him. Sure, he’d accepted that Joker’s games were only going to end with one or both of them being dead a long time ago, but knowing that you, his son, had killed him…

“What about Harley,” Dick asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “He killed her too?”

“She forced his hand. He had no choice.”

“What do you mean he had no choice,” Dick shouts. “Did you force him?”

“Do not be stupid,” it says, glaring at his first son. “Our host was in complete control of his actions that night. We no more control his actions than you. The woman was a lost cause, without Joker to keep her in line, she would have punished all of Gotham as retribution for the loss of her love. Also, she would have informed you of him, causing you to devote all your resources to finding him. In order to both save Gotham from her wrath and himself from your scrutiny, Harley had to die.”

No, this thing has to be lying. There’s no way you, one of his sons, could ever rationalize killing someone. It had to have forced you to kill them. It had to…

“How did you even find Y/N,” Damian interjects.

Upon being asked that question, it smiles. And not a normal smile, but a smile that says it knows something they don’t know and something tells Bruce he’s not going to like it.

“He was thrown into our cavern after being left for dead.”

Bruce hears the words, but they just don’t process.

You were… left for dead? When? How?

“It was four years ago, while the butler was on his vacation. That day, his boss was forced to retire due to Gotham’s high crime, so he was forced to find another bus stop within Crime Alley as he had no other way of returning here, where he was unfortunately captured by three thugs and takes to a cabin in the nearby forest. They intended to ransome him off for a high price due to his school uniform.”

You were held hostage? Why didn’t you call for them? For him?

He knows you have no reason to think he’d help you with homework, but surely you’d call him if you were ever—

Just then, memories from that time frame kick in.

Random…

Phone call…

Oh… Oh no…

“Since the butler was out of the country, he actually reached out and gave the thugs the phone number for this manor.”

He so desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“You said all your children were with you and you all laughed and mocked the leader of the thugs.”

He sees all his children tense up at the realization and Alfred looks at him to see if it was true. Based on the butler’s look of shock and disbelief, he knows it’s the truth.

“The one time he reaches out to you for help, you laugh and mock. He needed you and you failed him in the worst way possible.”

He remembers that night. He thought it was so stupid that someone would think he wouldn’t know when one of his kids were missing. He said all his children were with him and meant it.

God, he really is the worst, isn’t he?

“After that phone call, the leader took all his frustrations out on our host, beating him until he could cry out for mercy no longer before shooting him in the head.”

He wants to cry when the image of you being beat up enters his head, and based on the way he flinches, so does Jason, who looks like he wants to cry.

Alfred looks like he’s ready to go nuclear and Bruce doesn’t blame him. Hearing all this years later and he had no idea what happened just proves he was never worthy of being your father.

“He was on the brink of death and had he not accepted our offer to become our host, he would be dead and the world would have been deprived of a brilliant mind.”

The thought of you dying brings a brunch of thoughts to the surface.

How long would it had taken him to notice you were missing?

How would he reacted upon learning you were dead?

Chances are your body would’ve never been found and all there would be to remember you by would be a tombstone with your name in the Wayne Cemetery. Hell, you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the Wayne name, so you probably would’ve never agreed to be buried with the rest of the Waynes.

“Our joining restored him to full health and gave him access to many powers, including our records.”

“Records,” Tim asks, clearly interested in this.

“We have existed for four-hundred years, our roots expanding towards every corner of this city. As our roots touched those buried beneath the ground, not only have we watched the goings-on of Gotham, but we absorbed the memories, knowledge, and structure of the deceased. As horrible as the city is, it has attracted many brilliant minds, like artists, scientists, engineers, and many more. He has access to the knowledge of these people, making him one of the smartest humans alive.” It chuckles. “In fact, many of your employees are in our records and he used this knowledge to get revenge on you, selling the secrets of your company to Lex Luthor for a tidy sum.”

You were the one who did that? He’s been racking his brain and reviewing network logs to find any sort of security breach and it was you using the remains of his dead employees.

“Alright, so that solves a lot of mysteries,” Dick interjects. “But that still leaves one: why are you here?”

“We have been by our host’s since that fateful night, peering through his memories and seeing the world through his eyes. Ever since he was forced to move to Gotham, none of you ever made him feel welcome here. For years, he wanted nothing more than to return to his rightful home, where he knew nothing but love. Now, after four years since his departure from this wretched manor, you appear, one after another, trying to bring him back to a place he despises more than anywhere else. We wish to know why.”

“He’s my son,” Bruce answers, not liking what this thing has to say.

“He’s family,” Dick adds. “Of course we’d want him back.”

“But none of you have ever made him feel that way. And if you are honest with yourselves, you never saw him as one of your own. You only want him because you feel guilty about how you treated him, and that guilt is making you believe you are owed a second chance. And you seek to obtain that second chance, no matter how much harm it does to him.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re taking about,” Jason exclaims, clearly getting more and more pissed. “Yeah, we fucked up! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a part of this fucked up family!”

“He was never a part of this family. We know for a fact that he wishes he could take out the Wayne DNA and return it.”

“That’s because you’re manipulating him,” Damian interjects. “Nothing will change the fact that he’s my blood brother.”

“It is funny you say that when the last interaction you had with him was a fight.” It lifts hits arm and manifests a gold pen in its hand. “Do you remember this? This is the pen you tried to steal from him and then threw out into the rain when he gave you a much deserved slap upside your head. Do you know the significance of this item to our host?”

Bruce gets the feeling that he’s not going to like why that pen is so important to you and based off Alfred’s expression, that feeling gets even worse.

“This pen once belonged to his mother, made by her father when she set out to become an author. When she was taken from him, this pen was the only thing he had to remember her by. And you, the arrogant beast that you are, felt you had the right to take this, his most treasured possession, from him.” It turns its gaze from Damian to the rest of them. “And the rest of you supported this irreverent mongrel and condemned our host without listening to him before passing judgment.”

It seems like a day can’t go by that Bruce feels like the scum of the earth; ever since he learned of how he neglected you for years and forgot you even existed, his sense of worth has taken hit after hit. He was thinking about that argument you had with Damian and how furious he was when you refused to obey him not too long ago, thinking how stupid it was for you to cause so much trouble over a simple pen. Now to find out that “simple pen” was the only thing you had to remember your mother by…

It just never ends, does it?

He could spend the rest of his life atoning for everything he’s ever done to you, spend his last dollar to make your wildest dreams come true and he’d never come close to earning your forgiveness.

He knows he’s not the best father for his children, but he was never worthy of being your father and he’s certainly not that now.

“Y/N,” he whispers, knowing this isn’t you, but it has your face, your vice, and your memories, so it’s the next best thing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knows tears are falling from his eyes, surprising both Alfred and his children. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t help it; the last few days have been one emotional turmoil after another and he’s reached his limits.

He failed his baby in every way possible.

“Now you understand,” it responds as it walks closer to him. “You fulfilled your purpose, Mr. Wayne. You brought Y/N into this world and had him brought to Gotham, where he was delivered into our custody. Now please, do not worry for him, we assure you we will provide him with true happiness. Go on, all you have to do is stay in Gotham and out of our host’s business.”

“Father,” Damian exclaims. “You can’t possibly be considering this!”

“Bruce,” Dick adds. “You aren’t going to actually do it, right?”

“Don’t fuck this up, Bruce,” Jason adds.

“We can’t just give up on him,” Tim adds.

“Yeah, he’s your son,” Barbara adds.

“He’s our brother,” Steph adds.

‘Family doesn’t give up on one another,’ Cass signs.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred warns, clearly not pleased at the thought of giving up on you.

He should, though. He knows that he’ll never be worthy of calling himself your father and you’ve made it clear you hate him and your siblings in every sense of the word. You wanted to go back to your childhood home in Goodsprings, a place that made you feel loved, something his home never made you feel. And the last four years were good to you based off your appearance and success. Plus, you had the Megamycete, that apparently has been more of a family to you than them.

If he was a good person, he’d put your needs and wants ahead of yours and agree to leave you alone and tell his children to do the same. Repeatedly harassing you would only make you hate them more and widen the gap between you and them. You don’t need them and clearly learned how to live without them. Over the past few days, he’s gathered every piece of information about you he can find and from what he sees, you love it in Goodsprings and fully intend on living in the house you and your mother lived.

But he’s not a good person, not by a long shot.

The night his parents were gunned down like animals in that disgusting alley, his sadness had turned into a bright inferno of rage; he wanted to inflict on every criminal that he met every ounce of his never ending vengeance and make them so afraid of him that they refuse to step outside whatever hole they call home, so that no one ever has to lose a child, a parent, a friend, or a loved one to some scumbag with a gun. That was his reason for donning the cowl.

After his parents were taken from him, he made it his mission to never lose anything of his ever again and two things that he holds dear more than anything in this world are Gotham and his family. And as long as he’s breathing, he’ll hold onto those two things until the bitter end.

Is it possible that in his mission to protect his city from Arkham’s inmates have made him forget the little details? Of course, Gotham needs Bruce Wayne as much as it needs Batman.

Is it possible that his need to hold onto his children with an iron grip has made him lose them on multiple occasions? Absolutely, he’s constantly remembering that his children are their own people and that even though they may leave him, they’ll always come home.

And that’s what his situation is with you. He knows he fucked up with you and he can never undo the damage he’s done to you, it doesn’t change the fact that you are his blood, his son, his firstborn.

You belonged to him the moment you were born and there’s nothing that can change that. He wishes he could go back in time and accept the gift of your affection that his past self spurred, but he can’t (his time as a Justice League member has taught him that going back in time is more trouble than it’s worth) and his only option is to move forward and make you see that the only place in this world for you is with him and your siblings here in Gotham, a city that has and always will belong to the Waynes.

And right now, this Megamycete is an obstacle standing in his way of completing his family. And if there’s one thing Bruce is very good at over the years, it’s overcoming obstacles.

“No.”

“Pardon,” it says, confusion etched onto its face.

“No,” he says loudly, making it clear he has no intention on letting you go. “Y/N is my son and their brother. He belongs here, with me and his family, not in some backwater town with some sentient mushroom. We’ll find a way to bring him back here and separate the two of you. And when we do, he’ll have all the time in the world to realize this is where he needs to be. Once he realizes that, all of Gotham will celebrate his return.”

He looks around and sees not only does his family seem happy with that statement, but they think the same as him.

The Megamycete looks at him, silent, seemingly shocked at his statement.

Then, it begins to laugh. First, just soft chuckles, then a laugh so loud, it echoes off the walls of the cave.

“Our host was right, you have clearly lost what sanity you had left. You reject him for years and now that you realize your folly, you seek to make amends? Please, spare us your delusions. This has nothing to do with our host and everything to do with your guilt. The moment you feel absolved, you will return to the status quo and forget he exists.” It motions to his children. “You have plenty of children here to drown in your need for forgiveness, surely you can make do with one of them.”

Then, it leans closer towards him, a smug look adorning its face.

“Also, Y/N belongs to us. He has the moment he fell into our cavern and will continue to until the end of time. Attempt to take him from us and you will suffer the same fate as those three thugs who left him for dead.”

It’s then another mystery gets solved: the slaughter at My Alibi. The three men in the back of the dining room who looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. That was your doing and they had been the ones to kidnap you and leave you for dead.

While he never advocates for killing people, he’s more than happy to make an exception for them. If they tried to kill you, they deserved to be slaughtered.

He only wishes they were still alive so he could pay them a visit before being turned over to Red Hood.

“We’ve fought plenty of Metas in the past. Do you really think you’ll be any different?”

“We have the knowledge and wisdom of countless people over the course of four-hundred years, all of them at the disposal of our host. You still think of him as that timid little thing from all those years ago, but he has become so much more since our joining. You believe yourselves superior than the rest of the general population, but you will find our host far surpasses you in every respect. He also possesses one thing your past adversaries never will.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unbridled hatred towards you.”

He wants to laugh at that. This thing must not have watched too carefully if it thinks people like Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, and so many in Arkham don’t hate his guts. He’s spent years being cursed at by all of Gotham’s rogues and beating all of the Riddler’s countless murder attempts to know Batman is at the top of many people’s Most Hated lists.

“If you don’t think half of Arkham doesn’t have dart boards with our pictures on them, you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Steph mocks.

“We do not doubt the genuine animosity the inmates hold towards you, but they are too far gone to imagine a life without any of you; you have foiled many of their crimes so many times, it has become one of the few constants in their lives. Every time they are put back in Arkham, they devote their time to coming up with their next attempt to best you until it is the only thing they care about. If any one of them were to ever defeat you, they would eventually realize how empty their lives are without you and their victory would soon sour.

“Joker would be a perfect example of this as he was as obsessed with you as you were of him.”

As much as he hates to admit it, the talking pile of mold is right. The clown made it clear that as much as he hated Batman, he was just as obsessed with him, going as far as to go after any criminal that took up too much of his time, Harley included in that.

And Bruce was just as obsessed with Joker, coming up with countless contingencies to counter any plot his sick and twisted mind could come up with, as well as devising security protocols and measures for Arkham to keep him contained and treatment plans to find a way possible bring his sanity back (assuming he had any to begin with).

“But our host is not like them. He has longed for a life free of you lot and now that he has that, he has no intention of surrendering it. Attempt to force him to return to this wretched manor and he will be more than happy to bring his fantasies of killing you a reality.”

He knows you hate them, but hearing that you hate them enough to fantasize about killing them cuts him deep.

“Please, I tried to kill Tim and Bruce back when I returned to Gotham,” Jason mocks, but Bruce can see Jason’s obviously concerned about hearing you thinking about killing them. “And Damian took a few tries at Tim. Everyone in this fucked up family’s got anger issues, it’s nothing weird.”

“You are kidding yourself if you believe you and that monster can a hold a candle to his fury. Your so-called anger is nothing more than a candle compared to the inferno that is his rage. You will feel the full might of his righteous fury, which will swallow you whole and leave nothing behind. And when you all are dead, you will be denied entry into our records.”

“So you don’t plan to absorb us,” Dick asks.

“Our host is the one who made that decision. To be added to our records is to be a part of us, and to be a part of us is to be a part of our host. He refuses to have you in his life in any way.” A small smile etches across its face. “We agree with his way of thinking. When you are gone, there will be nothing left and the world will forget any of you ever existed. And that is when our host’s revenge will finally be complete.”

It takes everything Bruce has to not flinch.

With this… thing inside you, what are you capable of? Would you really attack them with intent to kill? Would you really murder your own family?

“Make all the threats you want, creature,” Damian boldly states. “Nothing will stop us from bringing Y/N home.”

“Then this concludes our meeting, we suppose. We had hoped that we could convince you the best thing for you and our host would be to leave him alone and let the past rest, but we see now you all are too deep into your delusions to see reason. We look forward to seeing our host tear you apart, bit by bit.”

In the blink of an eye, the Megamycete turns bone white and crumbles like chalk, scattering all over the floor, leaving them all to stare at the remains in silence.

“So,” Alfred says, breaking the silence. “Was anyone ever going to tell me about a call regarding a random?”

The tension becomes so think, Bruce thinks he’ll start to choke on it. He racks his brain to come up with any answer, but doesn’t find any. At lease not one that won’t make Alfred pissed.

Clearly his children came to the same conclusion, because they remained silent as well, looking away or at the floor when he met their gaze.

“I have to say out of all the disgraceful things all of you have done throughout the years, this definitely takes the cake. I know Master Y/N wasn’t a priority for any of you, but I never would’ve dreamed you would allow him to be put in danger like being held hostage by common thugs.” Every word he says is dripping in venom. “I am absolutely disgusted with all of you.”

The words cut him deep and he deserves it. It was thanks to his incompetence that led to you being kidnapped, beaten to a pulp, shot in the head, and tossed into a cavern like trash and left for dead in a place no one would ever find you.

There’s nothing he can do that will ever make up for all that he’s done to you. He can apologize until he loses his voice permanently, spend all his money to buy you apology gifts, and subject himself to whipping by your hand until he’s lost every bit of his skin and he’d never scratch the surface of everything he’s done to you.

You came to him, a scared little child who just lost his mother and was forced to move to a massive city to live with a man he’s never met and all you wanted was for him to tell you that he loved you and that everything was going to be alright, but no, he was too caught up in his work as Batman instead of finding a healthy way of dealing with losing Jason.

But that’s not all he did, was it?

As much as he wants to, he can’t deny that he replaced you with Tim after the boy lost his parents. He suffered the same loss as you, but he gave Tim the help he needed while denying it to you. But that’s his fault, not Tim’s. His inadequacies are his alone to deal with, not any of his children’s (a lesson he keeps forgetting).

And he did the same thing several more times, bringing in more children and giving them all the love and affection you were denied as a child. He can’t help but wonder what went through your mind as you saw him spending time with them, both in groups and individually. And when you watched them hanging out in the dining room when they came home from patrol, enjoying themselves and each other while you were left alone in some room barely the size of a closet.

God, how many times did you wonder when you’d be asked to join before giving up?

When exactly did you give up on them?

And of course, he can’t forget about how he handled you and Damian meeting, another sign he was never fit to be a father. He knew Damian’s LoA upbringing left him unable to interact with others the proper way, but he still allowed him to see you (because he never considered your safety a priority) and allowed the boy to draw a sword on you, give you a scar on your face, and make several threats on you and insult your mother.

And what did he do after that?

Did he do the responsible thing by taking away the sword, scold the boy for his unacceptable behavior, and make it clear you were his brother and that he’s not allowed to hurt you?

No, of course not.

He did nothing but carry Damian off while allowing him to shout even more threats and insults, thinking nothing about the harm you just experienced and thinking Damian would just outgrow of his behavior on his own.

If he had to guess, it was probably that day you realized you didn’t matter to him and that Damian was the only one he considered a biological son.

Y/N, his baby boy.

He’s so sorry.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Bruce finally says, making his family turn their eyes to him. “We still need to bring Y/N home. Meeting this Megamycete just makes it more important we get him back to the manor.”

“And if Master Y/N fights you? Based off what you were able to gather from both crime scenes, this Megamycete appears to make him a formidable opponent.”

“We can find a way to neutralize it,” Tim chimes in, motioning to the crumbled remains. “I’ll analyze the remains to find a weakness.”

“And if that’s not enough, it said it has roots all over Gotham,” Barbara adds. “I can use the Clocktower to locate the closest sample.”

“Say you manage to subdue Master Y/N and rid him of the Megamycete. What then?”

“Then we make it clear he’s a part of our family now. And we’ll keep telling him that until he believes it. And when he does, we’ll give him the love we should have given him.”

Alfred looks at him before glancing at his children, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I shall hold all of you to that promise. We have a second chance to right our wrongs. I highly doubt we’ll be given another. But don’t think for a second this conversation is over.”

And with that, the butler turns on his heel and promptly makes his way out of the cave, clearly still furious at them.

“Alright, everyone,” he says, getting their attention. “We have work to do. Barbara, get to the Clocktower and start searching for the Megamycete’s roots. Tim, start analyzing the remains and see what you can find. And be ready to receive new samples. The rest of you, be ready to go out and retrieve the roots.”

They nod and set out to work, leaving him with his thoughts.

Fuck, after hearing all that, his mother probably sees him as a failure now. He had so many opportunities to make this right, but he being the complete and total fuck up that he is, missed them, leaving you all alone to fall into the hands of low-life thugs and a sentient mushroom.

He balls his fists so tight so tight he draws blood, but not caring at the pain or the drops of crimson falling onto the cave floor.

All he had to do was be there for you, love you, tell you he’d always be there for you, but he couldn’t do that. When he first learned of you, he was shocked to hear that he had actually been stupid enough to not take precautions to prevent getting a woman pregnant and actually thought you were an inconvenience, blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t asked to be born, you didn’t ask to lose your mother in such a tragic way, and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be given to a man who had no right to be called a father.

He—

No, this line of thinking isn’t doing him any favors.

He takes a deep breath and releases it, throwing all his thoughts and emotions into a dark corner of his mind and locking them behind a massive door (like he always does instead of dealing with them in a healthy way). He’s done the same thing to so many other thoughts and feelings, what’s the harm in doing it now?

What he needs to do now is find a way to deal with a Megamycete and figuring out a method of getting close to you to administer it so they can bring you back home. While that’s already an uphill battle, the true war will be convincing you that they’ve changed and that you need to come back to the manor and live with them.

You’re his son and the brother to his children. And as much as you want to deny it, you have Wayne blood coursing through your veins, tying you to him and Gotham. You belong here, by his side.

And when this is over, he’ll throw the largest gala Gotham’s ever seen to show his love for you.

He’ll do whatever it takes if it means having you back home so h and your siblings can bathe you in their love and affection.

Even if it means taking away your powers and dragging you back here.

Like he said, he’s not a good person.

Tag List: @space1crow @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @minkyungseokie @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

[bpsmuts]

Day in the Office - Jennie and Rose

Jennie x Rose x Male Reader

Words: 1.697

Summary: You were in the recording studio with your two best friends Jennie and Rose. Bored, Jennie suggests you three play a game of "Never have I ever".

Jennie, Rose, Y/N

"Didn't you say, you wanted to be productive today Jen?" You ask your friend, who had just suggested to play Never have I ever.

Jennie sits over on the couch, with her feet up on the table "Well yeah, but were all have writer's block right now" she responds "And come on, we don't get to spend THAT much time together, plus we've already gotten good progress today" she pouts

"I wouldn't mind playing for a bit, as long as we continue with out actual work later" Rose chimes in from the desk. "You're not scared, are you Y/N?" the kiwi girl mocks you a little.

"What? No! I'm not scared, I just thought you two wanted to be productive, but fuck it, lets play then!" You challenge them as you get up from the chair next to rose and sit down next to Jennie "Who's starting?" You ask into the room

"I'll start" Jennie decides "Rosie, get over here" she orders Rose, who rolls over to the table. All of you put your hand up and Jennie begins the game.

"Never have I everrrr" Jennie thinks for a moment "Uhhh.. gotten a speeding ticket" You and Rose both put a finger down "You have never gotten a speeding ticket Jen?" Rose asks surprised "Of course she hasn't, she is being driven everywhere" You add, taking a shot at Jennie.

"I have driven before..." Jennie tries to defend herself "Okay, my turn" Rose continues "Never have I ever kissed a stranger" to which Jennie and yourself put down a finger "Okay, you two are teaming up on me" You exclaim

"How are we teaming up on you?" Jennie asks while laughing and looking over to Rose "You just are" You retort "Probably cause I wanted to work instead of goof around" I fake your anger "We are not goofing around, were taking a break. Just play your turn" Jennie responds

"Okay. Never have I ever sucked a dick" You grin as both girls put down a finger in shock "Okay, that's unfair" Rosie yells "What?! I'm just evening out the playing field here" you respond to her.

"Okay, next one counts double?" Jennie suggests to the group "Bring it Miss Kim" Rose replies "Never have I ever had sex" Jennie surprised the group as everyone puts down a finger "Now everyone is down to the last one" she smirks

"What happens to the loser?" Rose asks Jennie "Hmmm" she thinks for a bit "How about, the loser has to take their shirt off?" Jennie suggests into the room "Okay Jennie, I don't know if this is very professional" You try and veto the decision but get interrupted by Rose "Done!"

"Okay wait wait wait" You halt the game "This is totally unfair, since its Rose's turn now" You try your hardest to get the rule changed, with no luck "But Jennie could also lose Y/N" Rose remarks "I mean we can change it, if you want to chicken out Y/N" Jennie offers

"No No. Lets do it this way" You accept giving Rose the look to continue the game "Okay. Let me think here" Rose takes a thinker pose, as if she is solving a complex math problem "Okay, Never have I ever had sex with a woman" the kiwi girl grins widely, knowing you lost

You accept defeat and put down your last finger before realizing you were the only person to take one down "Now wait a minute, are you telling me both of you haven't done it with a girl?" You ask visibly confused "Not even with each other like once?" You add

"Ewww" both girls go in unison "Get your head out of the gutter Y/N" Jennie responds "Yeah we have barely even seen each other naked" Rose adds to Jennie's comment "He is probably just upset that he lost" Jennie chuckles to Rose

Still not believe them, you take your punishment as a man and take off your shirt, revealing a muscular physique with a six pack coming through quite visibly. As the room falls silent you see the two girls oogling at your upper body, with Jennie being able to catch herself quite fast.

"Its rude to stare Rosie" You mock Rose, who is still staring at your six pack "Let her be. Six Packs are her thing" Jennie tells you from the side "JENNIE" Rose retorts in embarrassment

"Do you want to touch it?" You offer Rose, who's embarrassment you find cute "Can I actually?" she replies, thinking you are messing with her "If its your thing" You chuckle. Rose gives you a look before getting off her chair and kneeling in front of you, carefully moving her fingers across your six pack

After a bit she looks up at you and quietly asks "C-Can I lick it?" with a big smile on her face "Umm.. I mean yeah, but you have to take your shirt off then too" You negotiate with the sweet kiwi girl

"I'll do you one better then" Rose giggles as she takes off her shirt, revealing her small breasts "Too small for a bra" She giggles as she shows off her chest "Oh wow Rosie, they look amazing" You respond before slowly moving a hand towards her chest, cupping a breast carefully

"Thanks" she responds before slowly licking over your six pack, moving further down towards your crotch. Right as she goes to unbuckle your belt Jennie interrupts the moment "Umm guys... Im still here"

Both you and Rose look over to Jennie, who is just sitting there. Your hand still cupping one of Rosie's breasts and her hand in the middle of unbuckling your belt, Jennie asks "Put a finger down, if you're about to have a threesome?"

Both you and Rose put up your hands before taking one finger down, chuckling. Jennie then moves closer to you and the two of you kiss, as Rose unbuckles your belt. You move your hips upward so Rose can pull down your pants. "Ooohh didn't know you were packing like this Y/N" Rose exclaims in awe as she sees your dick for the first time

"Save some for me Rosie" Jennie tells her as she also removes her shirt, showing off a white lacy bra. As Rose starts to slowly take in your length, your hand wanders from her breasts to Jennie's, cupping both of them as you two kiss.

You cant help but moan, as Rose continues to suck your dick. "Your mouth feels so good Rosie" you encourage the cute girl. Meanwhile Jennie takes off the rest of her clothes, not just revealing her boobs, but also that she wasn't wearing panties.

"What is it with you two and only wearing half a set of underwear" You chuckle. "Rosie doesn't need a bra and well.. I'm just a slut" Jennie answers, pressing her lips onto yours once again.

After a while Jennie breaks the kiss "Okay, my turn" she says to Rose, climbing down from the sofa as Rosie makes way between your legs. "Can I sit on your face Y/N?" Rose asks cutely before being interrupted by Jennie "I have a way better idea" she exclaims

"Y/N! Lay down on the sofa. Then Rosie can ride your face, while I ride you" Jennie suggests "And we can make out" Rose adds, while all three of you get in position.

As Rose climbs onto your face, burying it in her vagina, you can feel Jennie slowly slide down on your dick. You can feel the depth of Jennie's pussy as you grab Rose's ass to make sure the cute kiwi girl doesn't actually suffocate you.

Shortly after, the room is filled with smacking from the lips of Jennie and Rose, as they made out and the smacking of Jennie's pussy lips on your crotch as well as muffled moans from all three of you.

"Yes Y/N, just like that" Rose moans as she breaks her kiss with Jennie before going on to suck her nipples. "You feel so good inside me Y/N" Jennie compliments your dick.

"I'm close, can we switch Jen?" Rose asks in between heavy moans "Just one second baby" Jennie replies as she can feel herself reaching her climax. "JENNIEEE" Rose moans cutely, trying her best to hold her orgasm

Not shortly after that, you can feel Jennie's walls tighten as the Korean moans loudly, before getting off your dick, making space for Chaeyoung. Getting up from your face, you can finally take deep breaths again.

You see Jennie sitting on the floor next to you "That was amazing Y/N" she compliments as you Rose lowers herself onto your dick. You can feel the tight walls of Rose, as she starts to bounce up and down.

Jennie moves over to suck on Rose's nipples, earning even louder moans from her "Oh my god I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cum Y/N!" Rose moans loudly as she also reaches climax.

After she came, Rose also got off and kneeled on the floor next to Jennie. With both girls looking at you, you knew exactly what they wanted. You stood up and positioned yourself in front of them, starting to stroke your dick.

Jennie and Rose look up at you "Cum on us Y/N, Cum on our pretty faces" Jennie encourages you "Please give us all of your cum Y/N" Rose joins in.

You moan as you start to shoot rope after rope on their faces, trying to give both of them an equal amount of your hot cum. After you're done, you look down to two satisfied girls covered in your cum.

"Now for the best part" Rose says, before turning to Jennie and planting some kisses on her mouth. You sit down and watch the girls make out for a bit. "This was so much fun" You exclaim after gathering your breath.

"Definitely" Jennie replies, as she swipes your cum from her cheek into her mouth and swallows it. "Im gonna get us something to clean ourselves up with" Rose says, getting up and walking out of the room.

Author's Note: If you've made it this far, thank you <3

If you want to leave feedback, please either comment or DM me!

[panic-at-the-fiction]

A problem to work with

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a problem to work with. He’s annoying, snarky, hot headed and you don’t get along. And this has absolutely nothing to do with your thoughts about how big his arms are, or how hot he is when he’s mad. No this is only about how difficultly annoying he is.

Warning: Tension, banter, eventual smut.

A/N: don’t we all still enjoy pretending it’s 2012 and all the avengers are happily alive and working and living together in the tower. Like I miss that! Let’s put Clint back in the vent and go back to the good old days.

There was a lot of things you loved about your job, ok well maybe there was a few things, but certainly, Bucky Barnes was not one of them.

“Wow, that’s a good look on your doll.” He smiled as you walked down the stairs of the hotel into the Lobby where he stood waiting for you.

“Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.”

Now one might assume with banter so playful the two of you might have something going on, but you don’t. This was just a mission, you were just playing the part, not to be mistaken for anything real between the two of you.

In fact, just a week ago the two of you couldn’t stand each other, it was Tony’s idea to set you two up in such a long close quarters mission.

“You have to be kidding me Tony, you know how annoying Barnes is. We’ll tear each other's heads off before we even make it to the gala.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah even I have to protest this Tony, I mean (y/n) and Buck in the field, no backup? Couldn’t we partner them with someone else?”

“We can’t rearrange all of our mission plans so that these two don’t have to interact with each other. You both are grown ass adults, suck it up and play nice.” He said with finality before leaving the room. Steve sighed and joined him out in the hallway.

You crossed your arms and looked over at Bucky as he reclined in his seat. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Thought I was annoying.”

“You are that's why I thought you would have something to say on the subject.”

He shook his head and clenched his jaw, and you felt your heart drop, damn him. “Tony’s right, we’re adults. You just gotta stop acting like a brat so we can work together.”

“Oh please, if this is anyone's problem to solve it’s yours. You’re the one who’s going to actually have to trust me on this mission if we’re to get anything done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, I’ll trust you, you play nice, I'll do the same. One week, let’s play professionals.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

And you both had played nice ever since. He greeted you with a smile when he picked you up the next morning, carried your bag into the hotel, he even started the mission by letting you run point. Of course, it felt like a trick at first but once you realized he was being serious you returned the favor, bought coffee for the two of you as you staked out the location of the gala, let him do all the talking with the host you gathered information from, and made the two of your dinner the night before the big event. That night felt the most real, things shifted.

You set down a plate of food and a cheap bear in front of Bucky as he poured over the blueprints on the table in your shared hotel room. “So the two guards will be posted by each door in uniform, but two guards in disguise as waiters will be standing by these two entrances.”

“Barnes, I know, we’ve gone over the plan three times tonight, we know the layout backwards and forwards. You can take a break.”

He sighed heavily as he rubbed at the tightness in his shoulders. You stared, watching his arms flex with the movement, the expression on his face altering the chemicals of your brain.

“Thanks (y/n),” he said, taking the plate you had set in front of him.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, reminding yourself what was important here. “Anytime Barnes.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me Barnes, what are you, my sergeant?” He laughed playfully. You hadn’t ever heard him laugh like that, his usual attitude toward you didn’t allow for that type of light heartiness.

“Oh, because you just love when I bark orders at you.” You laughed while taking a sip of your drink.

“Who says I don't?” He gave you that 1940s smile you just know won so many girls over back in the day.

You tried not to choke as you looked away from him, hiding the heat that crawled up your neck. “Well, I guess I just figured Bucky was reserved for your friends, like Steve and Sam.”

“Are we not friends?”

You studied him, you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Are we?”

He leaned back in his chair, “do you want to be?”

“Do you?”

The room filled with silence as you both settled without an answer. Neither of you had an answer.

No, you would rather not be his friend, you didn’t think you could handle any more nice things coming from him. His smile made your stomach flip, and his proximity made your hair stand up, it was killing you the amount of alone time you were getting with him. But even worse the idea of it all being gone in 24 hrs and things going back to how they were made your chest hurt.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now, big day tomorrow.” You said excusing yourself from the table.

“Yeah” He sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

You paused at the door to your room before turning back for just a second. “Goodnight Bucky, get some sleep.” You smiled softly as you left him.

You didn’t run into Bucky much the next morning. He left a note saying he needed to double-check some things before getting ready for the gala tonight, but he promised to meet you in the lobby on time.

That leads you to now, standing in front of the mirror looking at the damn dress. Your heart pounded in your chest, you had forgotten about the dress. Originally intended for one of Tony’s galas that was canceled, you had never had a chance to wear this one. You had been excited to bring it along for the gala, but now it taunted you. It taunted you with its silkiness, its low cut, its backlessness.

All you could think was, would Bucky like it? It made you sick with nerves. This was not relevant. There was a high-profile target at tonight's gala, there were a weeks worth of snooping, and stake outs, and gathering information, months of research and tracking at stake here, but you were thinking of his hands on your back in that stupid dress if you were lucky enough to find an excuse to dance tonight.

You shut the thoughts out of your head and did your best to cool yourself down with some water to get your mind out of the gutter. This was just the two of you playing nice, being professional, this man despised you outside the walls of this hotel, outside of this mission.

You mentally slapped yourself as you got in the elevator heading down to the lobby, preparing yourself as you walked down the hotel's grand staircase.

You met Bucky's gaze from where he stood waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase. Damn he looked good. You could feel his eyes on you, every warning thought about the consequences of getting carried away leaving your brain. Was it getting hotter in here?

“Wow, that’s a good look on you doll.” He smiled playfully.

DAMN.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He offered you his arm as he walked you out to the car. “And besides what did I say about calling me Barnes. We’re not here for you to bark orders at me anymore, we’re here to play civil.”

You smirked as he opened your door for you. “Is that what you said? All I heard was that you like it when I boss you around.” You could hear him choke a little bit as he shut the passenger door before getting in on the drivers side.

“Now remember, we’re Mr. & Mrs. Laker, the rich real estate investors who just moved here from LA. We’ve been married 8 years now.” He said switching focus on getting to the gala.

“Kids?” You asked teasingly.

He smiled, “No, we're just waiting until things settle down with our work.”

“Aw I was hoping for a James jr.” He just shook his head. Your gaze shifted to his grip on the steering wheel where you almost lost yourself in THE thoughts again.

Damn get it together.

“Now you remember the layouts right.”

“Yes, I reviewed them this morning.”

“Good.”

He stopped as he pulled up in front of the venue you had scoped out just a few days prior. He put the car in park before walking around to your side opening the door for you and extending his hand for you to take. “Mrs. Laker.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laker.” You instinctively played your part and locked your arm in his.

“Here,” He tossed the car keys to the valley. “Not a scratch on it.” He added before leading you inside

As you entered the gorgeous high-class event waiters swarmed around you offering different champagnes, wines and finger foods, the room alive with rich people's conversations and music.

You smiled with your best rich lady smile as you let Bucky lead you around the party, choosing a table where you had a clear view of the event you set down grabbing a drink as you did so. You could feel your death grip on the glass as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the dance floor where a few couples swayed and not on the very handsome man beside you.

Bucky placed his hand gently on your thigh as he took the glass out of your hand. He leaned in his face close to your ear in a way that made your brain short circuit. “We’ll have a better chance of bumping into Lestrade if we don’t stay in one place.”

You swallowed hard, “What do you suggest?”

He pulled away so he could look in your eyes, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his lips. “How about a dance,” He paused, offering you his hand and making sure the surrounding others could hear him. “Sweetheart.”

“Of course dear.” You smiled, kicking yourself for forgetting it all for the image of playing a married couple.

As you reached the dance floor his arm slipped around your waist, his hand on the small of your back causing you to stiffen. His metal hand gently held your right hand while your left hand rested on his bicep.

His steps were smooth with years of practice, his subtle pushes and pressure on your back letting you know where to step next.

“Now where did the soldier learn to dance?” You smiled as he shook his head.

“Like I said doll.” He licked his lips looking down at you with an ease in his eyes, you hadn’t seen before. “It's called class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He leaned in, pulling you to his chest so that he could whisper in your ear. “Trust me you won’t find anyone else who can do it like I do.” You could feel his smirk, “dancing that is.”

“Yeah, is that so Barnes? Show me your moves then.”

He didn't hesitate to spin you out and turn you around so that you swayed with your back to his chest. The heat pulling in your stomach where he now rests his metal hand over top of yours. You felt his lips on your ear. “Oh I’ve got plenty of moves.” You held in a sigh as you let yourself get swept up in the closeness.

“Lestrade, 10 o'clock, mingling at the drink table.” Your brain turned back on as your focused turned back to the mission, the song you had been dancing to fading out as it ended.

You pulled away from him, trailing off the dance floor. “You know sweetie, I think that dancing made me fairly thirsty. I need another drink.”

“Anything you want sweetheart.” He called as he followed suit.

It was going to be a long evening.

Part 2

[clawsdevour]

𓂂 ْ. tsukki husband hcs

wc: 0.4k content warning: post-time skip, fluff, nonchalant but affectionate... not proofread

˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

-Tsukki, the type of husband to make you a portion of his own meal whenever he's cooking because he'd know that you would ask him for a bite. It's not like he doesn't want you to eat his fill, but he'd rather eat with you instead.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to be careful whenever you leave the house. Even if he's not very expressive when it comes to showing affection, he's still very caring. Especially about your safety. When it's late, he'd offer you rides home instead of having you taxi back.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to love taking time off his work to just sit around with you at home. He'd secretly love when you cuddle with him on the couch, trying to push you off playfully until you're just in his warm arms.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to be the first to break down an argument because he simply does not want to argue against you. He'd open up to you about how you both can solve the problem whilst valuing your feelings and his.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to love bickering with you like an old couple. He finds it fun because it's with you of course. He also wouldn't go ham with insults because he just can't pick out anything when it comes to you.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to go along with whatever you plan because he loves every little moment with you. Don't get him wrong, he loves volleyball but when it comes to you, he'd have to choose you with no hesitation. But you for sure had to reassure him to continue his career that he longed for for so long.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to enjoy silent moments with you. For instance, just laying in bed together when you've both already woke up. He'd love just cuddling with you for another long minute, both of your sleepy eyes about to collapse once more.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to have proposed in a more secluded and intimate place. He's not big on public proposals because it'll just put more pressure on him and he would definitely be nervous as is. He'd have a short little moment while locking eyes with you on one knee, saying a few words that'll relish in your heart.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to give his all when it comes to you. You're genuinely his the moment you said yes to his proposal. He wants to keep loving you and receiving all your love, and he wants to make everything you've ever dreamt of happen.

-Tsukki, the type of husband to text you occasionally. He'd rather just call, not just because it's one click away but he just loves to hear your voice. He loves hearing you talk, rant even, your voice is like a comforting melody in his ears.

masterlist here

[kyokutsu-sama]

Headcanons

"What is it like living with them?"- Captain x f!reader

A/n: I'm at my creative peak for the Black Clover fandom and I have a lot of drafts to post here about it. I hope I can post some more this week.

Tw: slightly suggestive

_____________________________

Yami :

Living with the captain of the black bulls is like a complete married life, with children included (in this case they are his squad members) You won't have a minute of peace because he'll always be teasing you here and there and he won't have peace either because the brats always call him to train and when he doesn't, it's Julius who's calling him on a mission again. He, in turn, can't wait to get back to HQ to be with you. Yes, he loves to see you opening your arms to welcome him back. He will ask you to bring him toilet paper in case Asta forgets to put a new roll in the bathroom. You're the only one he lets into the bathroom when he's there. Needless to say, he will kill the poor boy for forgetting about it. The squad members see you as a motherly figure and whenever the captain tries to slice one of them, they run away and hide behind you and you always defend them. Yami doesn't like to get into trouble when you're around and he quickly changes his personality to someone calmer. He likes to go out with you to drink and gamble, he teaches you a lot about card games. In relation to drinking, if you are resistant to alcohol this only brings advantages as he likes someone who can accompany him when drinking. There will be many nights when you wake up on the living room floor after a night of drinking. You almost don't argue because he doesn't like doing it and often prefers to say that you're right just so there isn't a big fuss between you both. Still regarding arguments, this man also has his bad days so if it's something superficial where you're just making a film, he picks you up and takes you to the bedroom to solve the problem. You can be sure that you will forget the reason for the argument. If you want this man's attention, take the cigarette from his lips or hide the pack. You can also steal his sword. He teaches you how to fight with it but don't you dare break his beautiful sword. He's going to have a heart attack (we all know that he has a little fragile heart🤏🤭) just thinking about having to pay for a new one without even having paid for the previous one.

Julius :

Apart from the part where he has to be away for a long time because he is the wizard king, everything is perfect. It turns out that most of the time you have to walk behind him so he doesn't torment someone random because of their magic. Yes, he lets go of your hand in the middle of a walk to see magic. He starts sneaking out of the office more often than before just to be with you. He loves you and it's hard for him to be away from you. In his free time, he takes you for walks, holding your hand and visiting different places. It is worth remembering that he will often have to use magic to change his appearance since if he appears as a wizard king among people he will quickly attract their attention to him. You'll also have to get used to the fact that he always arrives late because of the amount of paperwork he had to sign. He's always teasing you and it only get worse if you're not paying attention. Please, this man needs attention. Of course he also likes to make you laugh if you're sad. You are his queen and like a good king, he needs to take care of his wife. He always makes a point of having meals with you since it's one of the few times you're together. And if he comes home early from work and you're waiting for him, you have long conversations about everything and everyone before bed. (This man loves gossip and tea and no one can convince me otherwise🤭)

As you are the wife of the wizard king, you are greatly adored and respected by the people and when you accompany him to a ceremony in the castle, there will be many eyes on you. If you are not a member of royalty and those looks are disdainful towards you, he will hold your hand and like to show everyone that you are an incredible person and that he is very proud of you.

Fuegoleon :

Living with this man is a dream. He's the husband material and is always kind to you and always tries to meet all of your needs. He spends most of the day busy either in the office or training his magic knights, so if you want to go there, feel free, he loves your visits. You know you've won in life when you're his brothers' protégé. Leopold loves you and calls you to train or do something else. He adores you for being who you are and for taking care of his brother. As for Mereoleona (How I love this woman😫), she easily drags you to the hot springs to talk to you. She may seem harsh about everything but I assure you that she cares about you. Proof of this? She always asks if your brother has taken good care of you and if not, she'll kill him for that, even if the poor guy would never be able to neglect you. I'm not even talking about the part where every time she comes home after being away for months, she always asks you if you're already carrying her nephew. Yes, she is waiting for this and don't make this woman wait. If he has free time, he will look for you so that you can both go out somewhere, be it for a walk or to eat. He also trusts you enough to tell you if something isn't going well at work even if he prefers not to because he doesn't want you to worry. He is very selfless and he doesn't want this to bother you in any way, even if you assure him that this doesn't happen. Just like Julius, if he comes home early, he will immediately look for you. You two also talk a lot about different subjects and besides, he likes to hear your points of view too. There are also frequent cuddle sessions before bed.

[vanesycho]

welcome to stray kids headcanon！| m.list | 1,7k word

stray kids as friends with benefits | who can continue without any feelings? who can't?

방찬 bang chan | he will be completely gentle and protective towards you. he will consider your wishes rather than his own and will make sure you are getting enough pleasure.

It would be hard for him to form a bond with anyone else, so I can see that he will only be with you. even thinking about being with someone else makes him question his loyalty and even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to. for him, this kind of relationship is only between you and him.

I think he will succumb to his feelings, he is an emotional person and it seems like he can't sustain this kind of relationship for long, but he can still stay silent. he may occasionally compliment you during sex, but you can't tell if he really means it. he will try to keep it up as long as he can. If his feelings start to get the better of him, he may decide to end this relationship and distance himself from you.

"I wanted to keep quiet just to be with you, but it's getting harder to carry this burden, y/n. I can't hide my feelings for you anymore."

리노 lee know | he is definitely controlled. he acts as close as he needs to be in a relationship and doesn't cross boundaries. he is someone I think he can handle. he will talk to you outside of this relationship but even in this he knows how to maintain boundaries. If he realizes that you are unknowingly getting close to him he will back away, he doesn't want you to think the wrong things or get carried away. he has no intention of being friends with you, just sex and that is enough for him.

as long as this thing between you continues he won't be with someone else, he just doesn't prefer it. he doesn't need someone else when he already has someone, he doesn't care if you are with someone else, all he cares about is you being there for him when he needs you.

"I see how much you value me, but maybe the best part is that we don't push each other too hard."

창빈 changbin | oh he's definitely falling for you. it'll be hard for him to stop. this kind of relationship is not for him at all, he had no idea why he got into it but now he's paying the price by liking you. changbin is an emotional person, even if he tries not to show it. so the slightest bit of interest you show him will make him think that you have an interest in him in his delusional world.

this will bother him for a while and he'll wonder if he should tell you. if you're with someone else, he'll 'joke' about it.

'It's not fair for you to do this when you're the only one in my life. that's not what we agreed on.'

i still don't think he'll be able to handle it for long, he doesn't want to lose you but the confusion in this relationship is wearing him out.

"i don't want you to misunderstand but i don't think i'm the right person for this. i feel like i'm falling for you more and more every day. maybe it's better if we end this."

현진 hyunjin | It 'might' be easy for him to have a non-emotional and fun relationship. he might invite you on dates outside of that and whine about not being able to win a plushie as if he didn't ruin you last night. It might be normal for people to think you're dating, you deny it every time, but after a while, he might start to wonder. If you're coming to the dates and you're not with anyone else, then why aren't you guys dating? that would solve everything faster.

he feels like it might help it put sex on the back burner for a while and focus on him.

'look, I'm the one who understands you the best, I wouldn't miss me if I were you'

'can you believe jisung said we look like a couple again today? that's weird, but you have to admit that we look good together'

he'll try to confuse you with things like that, well...whether it works or not is up to you of course.

I don't think he'll say that by asking you out on a serious date. more often he will say it out of the blue when you are together on a normal day, petting the dog or shopping at the grocery store.

"how do you feel about dating with me? I am the only person you do these things to and the only thing missing is a ask. I don't think there is any need to complicate things, besides i think we both like each other anyw- look! here is the chocolate you wanted."

한지성 han jisung | jisung is the worst person for this relationship and he still doesn't know how he got into it. for some reason i can see him doing it because he likes you and can't say it and then starting this with you so he can be close to you. or maybe he got nervous because others provoked him and told him he couldn't do it things like this.

because dude, i don't think there's a chance he won't have feelings. this topic will hurt him more emotionally and he might ignore you for a while. he might compliment you every now and then, try to show it somehow. he'll try to make things more than just sex between you. but if he can't show it, he'll eventually give up and say it.

he'll probably blurt out that he loves you during sex.

"i love you, i fucking love you so much. why can't you see that? i want to do these things as your boyfriend from now on."

필릭스 felix | he's complicated. you don't know if he's acting so close because he really loves you or if you're misunderstanding because he's really kind. he can really be the sweetest and best partner you've ever seen and thinks about you in this relationship. if felix doesn't have feelings for you, he can still act close to you. more like a friend you can talk to.

'look, i know what this relationship is but if you really need help, don't hesitate to call me. i want you to know that i care about you beyond that.'

if he does have feelings for you, he can spend some time alone to clear his head, he'll respond to your messages briefly and tell you that he's busy. during this time, he'll gather his thoughts and think it's more appropriate to tell you, he can't continue this knowing that he has feelings for you.

"i think i started to have feelings for you without realizing it. i'm sorry if i ruined everything y/n. but i don't think i can do these things anymore knowing that i love you."

승민 seungmin | this might be easy for him. he knows what not to do before starting a relationship like this and of course he doesn't forget the most important rule 'no emotional attachment'. knowing this and trusting himself, he doesn't think he can form an emotional attachment. if you're really in a difficult situation and don't have anyone to talk to, he'll be there for you but he doesn't see it as appropriate to meet up outside of that.

don't get me wrong, I'm not saying he's not an emotional person but if he's not sure of himself, he won't get involved in such things. he has a side to his life that you don't see and he prefers only those close to him to see him like that.

it's important for him to know what makes you feel good during sex, he wants to do it properly and if you don't like something, he wants you to tell him clearly so he can act accordingly afterwards. talking about such things comes easy to him and he wants you to feel comfortable too. do you want to hold hands during sex? he'll definitely keep that in mind.

"come on, tell me. I can't make you feel good if I don't know what you like. we're both in this together, and I care about what you like. I want my partner to feel good."

양정인 yang jeongin | this is fun for him for a while. the idea of freedom that comes with being young entertains him and he might start this to be like the others in a way. he's someone who doesn't know how to keep boundaries, so he'll invite you out on dates other than that. more fun dates where you hang out as friends and where sex isn't at the forefront.

you can see that he's the same in real life like he's the same in sex, he's hyperactive and never stops, he's not quiet during sex and he likes to tell you how good it feels even if he doesn't moan.

you can still see that he's more cheerful on dates, he might make flirty moves on you without realizing it, he's a total boyfriend material and he likes that idea.

still, this thing he started for fun and to be like the others might end up costing him. he might think like hyunjin, since you do everything together, what's the point of you not dating?

it might be hard for him to figure this out on his own, so i can see that he'll get help from someone. he gets advice from each of them and wants to make the right decision.

he's starting to love you and he doesn't want to lose you, all the time he spent with you so far is precious to him, you are precious to him. that's why he won't hesitate to tell you that he loves you when he's sure.

"this situation was fun but now every moment I spend with you makes me feel like my feelings are moving to another dimension. It's hard for me to continue like this but if you let me...I want to continue as your boyfriend from now on."

[applestorms]

L can be such a possessive character at times. he always strikes me as the type of person who is deeply aware of everything that he owns, both in a more literal sense and metaphorically-- like, he knows what money he has and how to use it, what resources are readily available to him and what he has to be sneakier to utilize, the habits and tendencies and emotional states of individuals and world governments both. the DN musical really puts an emphasis on the more computer-y aspects of how his brain functions, which isn't as obvious in the manga/anime but i think still works well as a way to follow his thinking. it's kinda what near does too: everything is a factor to them, every tiny detail a new opening to optimize for the best results, every person and location and object a part of a puzzle waiting to be solved. and as a part of that, L is deeply aware of every and any little thing he may or may not have control over, and exactly to what degree.

his habit of stealing titles as depicted in the LABB murders novel is such a good example of this. ryuzaki, eraldo coil, deneuve. he eats people alive and then takes their names for himself like some kind of fucked up fae or trickster god, creating new masks and personas to hide behind from the remains of the people he's devoured. i have to wonder if he would've used the title of KIRA for himself had he won-- i can hardly imagine what kind of power such a title could hold if held in his hands. of course, he could've just used the defeat of KIRA as a way to build up the L title even further, offering up the body of a dead god like perseus showing off the head of medusa. but L is so emotionally attached to the kira case, i struggle to see him allowing it to fade from existence so thoroughly as near does, even if it is only kept close on a private level...

this is part of why i think it genuinely makes a lot of sense that L's ultimate win state would include capturing light to some degree. even if the memory of KIRA somehow manages to fully disappear from the public consciousness, there is no fucking way L is letting light yagami out of his grasp. honestly, the moment that L truly loses this game is not when he starts investigating misa while still under rem's watch, not when light gets back his memories, not even when he dies, but the moment when he allows light to be freed from the handcuffs. the moment when he allows the other members of the task force to turn off the cameras and keep him from watching light and misa talk in the lobby. the moment when he gives up, lets light yagami go outside of L's personal sphere of control, is the moment when L starts the clock ticking down to the end of his own life.

this is one of the key ways in which i see light as a true equal and parallel to L, as after L's death he, intentionally or no, continues the same tradition and takes L's title for himself, twisting the two sides together into the L-KIRA amalgamation. only, the L title functions a little bit differently than every other persona or title that we see in the series-- because L's true name is L. that's all that he is. on a literal, legal, and emotional level, i don't think that L is anything more than L. he is the world's greatest detective, he's an incredible, weirdo super genius, but he does not afford himself much more than that, barely allows himself personhood or humanity outside of his work. light was the one to ultimately defeat L because he did not just put a stain on his character (as BB attempted), did not just kill him, but stole his very identity and took it for himself.

one of the biggest contradictions of L's character that i think you must accept should you attempt to portray him accurately is that he is both deeply detached from humanity while also having all of his work and effort and life be focused around saving it. it's one of the ways in which he is an exact opposite to light-- where light relies on humanity for external validation, to be Seen, while also looking down on it as dumb and immoral and spineless, L is so separated from it that he barely exists as a person, all the while dedicating almost every action he takes to helping it. remember: for all the emotional turmoil that wammy's house and the legacy of L may put on the kids living there, ultimately it's entire existence is nothing more than L's logical solution to his potential demise. if he dies, the world goes down with him, all of the cases that are yet to happen and he is yet to solve being left in the air. he has the foresight to set up a fail safe, but not to consider the emotional implications of what being that fail safe might feel like, how high the price of your own humanity is if you are not already alienated from it, the inability to have your own name on your gravestone-- though perhaps some of the blame also falls on watari's shoulders in this case, philanthropic old bastard that he is.

imo, playing his game really got it right in presenting L and light as one and the same, synonyms on either side of the mirror. in every action they take they are both so selfishly selfless, playing the game for themselves and their own pleasure but plastering the needs and will of humanity on top of it. L isn't invested in saving humanity for the sake of humanity-- he just likes the thrill of having the stakes raised so high. hard to shit on ryuk for wanting entertainment when the humans he finds are just the same as him.

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Lucifer x GN adopted child reader

A/n: still have writers block. Trying to move and do school! Sorry it’s taking long! But I’m also going through some stress and emotions too and couldn’t write- but to heal me, I have made some Lucifer parent headcannons because he is the father I never had😔😔

-Platonic

-He adopted you out of depression, and being lonely. Not seeing his daughter for so long, and his wife(wives) really broke his heart. And since he can’t have children due to his lack of woman, he decided to adopt! Where you come in!

-When he saw your adorable little face in one of the foster home rooms, he knew you were perfect. You were young, not old enough to know who he was since Lucifer/Satan wasn’t out in public all the time, or at all. So while the other kids that were older cowered in fear, you were curious and un afraid, something that Lucifer loved about you.

-He can cook. Good. Expect him to make you home cooked meals all the time, so homemade dinosaur nuggets, aren’t you lucky? He’ll also help you learn how to cook, family bonding time! He has so many pictures of you two cooking together. He doesn’t mind the mess, he’s literally Satan, just a snap of his fingers and everything is clean!

-He definitely gives you rubber ducks as gifts almost everyday. He’ll make you personal ducks for you, a character, friend, yourself, anything! Of course, he’d never test any of the rubber ducks with abilities on you. He’ll give you those once he’s 100% sure they’re safe. Expect him to get or make you duck costumes or clothes. He’ll order some matching duck pajamas for the two of you to wear on movie nights, both of you watched DreamWorks “migration” so many times, but it’s your favorite movie, you both watch it together at least once a week.

-he’s not big on punishments. The farthest he’ll go is put you in time out. He has a stool for you in the corner of his office(with duck prints of course) and makes you sit there until you learned your lesson. He’s never hit you, or punish you physically, nor would he hurt you mentally, he loves you to much to do that.

-He would help you accomplish your dreams. He wasn’t able to accomplish his, but he can help you. He wants you to be free, to be as curious as you want, to let you learn. He wants you to be happy. He’ll give you everything he didn’t get. and, he’ll make sure you are on the right path to your life, and that you have everything you need to accomplish your goals and dreams. He’ll do make sure every obstacle is solved for you, but will also let you try to get through it on your own.

-He will never let heaven know you exist. He doesn’t want you to be targeted but them, especially exorcists. If your a sinner child, he’ll protect you with his life in his castles he’ll put you in a hidden room with him, and to keep you entertained he’ll play with toys with you, watch tv, sing to you, or just talk and tell you his past dreams. If your hellborn, then he’ll be less panicked about the extermination. But he wouldn’t let you outside, or near any of the doors and windows during that time.

-Lucifer would be very nervous to tell Charlie about you. He doesn’t want her to think he replaced her l, he just needs someone to take care of and protect that wouldn’t leave him. The day you met Charlie was the day Charlie had called him over to talk to him about getting them into heaven. And he thought it would be a “great” time to meet your older sister.

-You were Nervous, but more excited than your father. When Charlie saw you, she was overjoyed and knelt down on say hi, she was so kind and sweet to you. You were a little kid! She couldn’t be mean (if she was). She asked her father who you were and when she found out you were her adopted sister, she was both excited and heartbroken. She was upset. Not at you, her father. He was just starting another family being her back…? She would have loved to help raise you, play with you. But she can’t change the past, so she might as well make the most of your appearance now.

-After meeting Charlie, Lucifer brought you to her hotel more often after they felt with all the extermination stuff and rebuilt it. He’d leave you with Charlie for a weekend every now and then so you two could bond. You two have sleep overs all the time. Plus Vaggie. Vaggie likes getting involved, she wants to get to know you more and have someone from Charlie’s family like her more. You three have little “girls days” together, even jf alastor joins from time to time

-Speaking of Alastor, neither Charlie and Lucifer let you go near him alone. He’s too dangerous. Charlie will let you go near him, speak to him and play with him only if she is with you. Lucifer will not let you go near him at all. He tried to talk Charlie out of letting you see him, but Charlie doesn’t want to start any tension. Lucifer fears you may be taken away from him or hurt by Alastor. Charlie clearly likes Alastor more than him, and Lucifer doesn’t want it to happen again, so your interactions around Alastor are very limited here Lucifer is around.

-But he is a pretty great father otherwise. He wants to treat you right, and be there for you even if he couldn’t be there for Charlie.

[skay-ali]

Birthday Cry

Listening to pity party and my birthday gave me the idea of ​​this story. Who hasn't had a birthday happen in their life where your loved ones forget it or can't celebrate it because they have other things to do?

Smiling was what you were trying to do in the middle of an abandoned room, not letting a few tears ruin your day.

Today is your birthday and your whole family forgot, it was no surprise they had done it before, they have always done it in your most important moments.

They had other things on their agenda to do, matters to attend to and crimes to solve, at least that's what you assume.

That day when your birth was celebrated, no one was home to celebrate it, it is not strange because deep inside you you knew that they hated it, the day you were born, the person who does nothing but bother them in their home, the plague that invaded them and it ruined their happiness, they never said it to your face, but their behavior made you believe that was how they felt.

The atmosphere that surrounded you was lifeless, a large dark room, illuminated only by the small flames of the candles, even so, they did not improve the cold and melancholic scene, the large dining room table was empty, there was no person present.

Just you and the small birthday cake, sitting in the center of the table, right in front of where your father and brothers always sat to eat, very far from your seat, of course when they coincided in their meals.

The chairs devoid of life were the spectators of your sad reality. You thought they would remember it, you actually believed it, it was when you would come of age and could leave home, when you would finally be emancipated.

They should have come to celebrate that they would no longer see you in the mansion, that they would stop dealing with you.

Not even your dear butler, your only friend in this house was present, you didn't blame him, he had a lot of work to do, you hated being a burden to him, you couldn't afford it, after all he was the only one who bothered to try to understand you and relate to you.

You didn't invite anyone, you knew very well that they would take advantage of this opportunity to get something out of your family, you experienced it on your first birthday with your classmates from the private academy you attended.

Today was your day, a very special occasion, where you should be celebrating with your loved ones, with a big smile on your lips, listening to them sing a song and you blow out the candles on the cake making a wish.

Not crying, shedding endless tears, with a feeling of pain in your chest that couldn't stop, alone in a room in the big house where you were forced to live, for as long as you can remember.

With the makeup smeared, the dress wrinkled by your hands full of emotions that squeezed it, inside a room with a deathly silence, darkened by the big lights turned off.

You looked at your cake, and sang your birthday song, still crying.

Your only consolation was vaguely remembering the song your mother sang to you on the last birthday you spent together.

"Happy birthday to me," you finished and blew out the candles, you made your wish, desperately hoping it would come true.

This time you no longer asked for something related to your family, it wasn't much different.

Now you were 18 years old and you could do whatever you wanted.

Besides, today was your birthday, you could cry as much as you wanted, you could scream and laugh, the best thing was that you had the big house to yourself.

With that in mind you got up from the chair, leaving the large table you went to look for your phone.

You wiped away your tears a little along with the makeup smeared on your face.

You made a few calls before you started putting your things in order.

You saw some paintings on the walls, they were your grandparents', you took pity on their memory and kept their things in a room.

You locked many rooms, you had them because you knew where Alfred kept them. While you knew where to turn off the mansion's security that warned that things were out of control, you didn't need them to interrupt what you had planned.

In a short time the big house was filled with people, many teenagers and young adults, you hardly knew any of them, but that didn't matter to you, not as long as they were useful to fulfill your plan.

Many open spaces in the mansion were filled, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the hallways, there were endless drinks everywhere you looked and loud music.

You watched from the stairs as your plan went just as you wanted, you had a small cupcake in your hands, courtesy of your only three friends.

You didn't know them at your school, even if they attended it, you formed a friendship with them when you saw them visiting the same music record store you went to, their love for alternative rock bands was what brought them together.

Your friend Sam hugs you with love and gave you a few kisses on your cheek, causing you to laugh because of her clingy attitude. Your other friend Mia sipped her soda, taking turns looking at them or checking the posts that appeared on her phone. Your friend, the only man in the group Noah, laughed at Sam's witticisms, but he continued to encourage her.

When the party managed to turn the mansion upside down and thousands of people showed off the great party they attended, along with the label of the wild birthday of one of the Wayne heirs, you decided to leave.

“Well, it's time,” you said.

“Ahh so fast... they still need to introduce themselves one more time, at this rate they will never become famous” Noah complained.

“Take it back, you bad excuse for a manager, our band will be famous soon.” Sam ran after the boy, trying to hit him for his pessimistic words.

“Are you really sure about this decision of yours?” Mia came to your side as they started to go to your room. “Once you leave, you won't be able to come back and life outside of this place won't be pretty.” I try to make you see the consequences of leaving your home, nothing you didn't already know.

“I know, it will be difficult, we will have to work to survive, give double what we have when practicing the songs and in the band presentations” you explained the challenges they would have to go through.

“But I'm willing to do it, I like playing in the band with you, plus you are... you are my family” you took his hand and smiled at him “I think we will achieve great things together”

"Now we will achieve everything with the magic of friendship" Noah mocked the childish speech you gave.

"At least I keep the group's morale high, some of the work you can never do" you stuck your tongue out at him childishly.

You achieved your goal, the small revenge for them forgetting your birthday, the best birthday you had during your stay in this house.

Your three friends helped you carry your bags in the midst of all the commotion. You didn't look back, not even for a second.

It was time to start a new chapter of your life, you just crossed your fingers that your birthday wish would come true.

Besides never having to return to this house.

It's a shame that fate doesn't want that for you, much more so that your music will awaken fans truly willing to do crazy things for the band and will bring you back to your family that you left behind

I can't help it, when I think of a girl band, hex girs come to mind, although sohodolls also come to mind even though it's not an all-girl band.

I couldn't do much anguish, it's enough that ___ suffers a lot, I like to draw the line more than reader, but it's obvious.

Jajaja I can already imagine the family returning to the mansion after a tiring mission and finding the mansion destroyed.

I think that at first they would think that it was the work of a villain, but after researching online and seeing the big party that was held, they would begin to doubt it.

I imagine that some kids from the young league attending as civilians watching the big party and one or another hero of the league thinking that their partner Bruce was the one who threw the party.

The family will notice that ___ was the one who threw the party, and that they missed her birthday, the first time they really pay attention to her. Although I think they will become truly obsessive when they see ___ playing with her band, or in interviews where she claims to be an orphan and that her bandmates are her only family.

Tag list: @cosas-delias @vainilla @murciélago1212 @yan aleatorio @Quiarst @Dhanyasri @leo227

I'm sorry if I didn't tag some, but it's not the series in which they asked me to tag them, it's another series or shorts that I'm trying to get going, but when I have a new chapter, I'm sure I'll tag everyone. they asked me. I'm also sorry if you didn't want to be tagged in this short, I still don't know how it works....

[goldenempyrean]

Hi there! If you are still taking them id love to request a fic where the avengers are bantering/teasing Natasha because she supposedly never gets sick but a little while later R finds her crying and thinks its because the guys have upset her but its really because she feels so terrible.Maybe including Baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles and Oh my god you’re completely burning up. Sorry if this is too specific I just think it would be so cute

You're My World

〚 Notes - Wow, its been a while. I haven’t written Nat in so long, finally getting this request done <3 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Nobody really believes it when Natasha gets ill but there’s always going to be one person thats always there for her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2100 〛

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“Afternoon sunshine, and just what time do you call this?” The voice of Tony called out with a small chuckle, raising his eyebrows from behind a mug of coffee.

“Lay off her Stark.” You bit back, shooting him a glare and came over to where your girlfriend had shuffled into the room. She was leaning against the doorframe, her pale complexion a sharp contrast to her messy red curls.

You put down your own coffee and came to her side, hand reaching up to cup her cheeks, “Morning baby,” You murmured, kissing her forehead gently before taking her hand and leading her over to sit by the kitchen island, “You still not feeling good?”

The two of you had been cuddled in bed together last night when she’d complained of being extra tired and after some gentle encouraging, she’d eventually admitted that she’d had a growing sinus headache for most of the day.

When you’d woken up that morning, Natasha had still been asleep, still curled up in your arms. Usually, she was up before the sun had even risen, getting in a workout or simply just enjoying her morning. After some careful consideration you decided it would be best to let her sleep in, so you’d carefully detached yourself from her arms and pulled the blanket back over her before silently tiptoeing out from the room.

Natasha shook her head, “I think I’m getting a cold.” She mumbled glumly, letting her head fall onto your shoulder as you sat down beside her. She stayed like that for a moment before falling into a painful sounding coughing fit.

“Baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles,” You sighed sympathetically in response, “You wanna head back to bed? I can bring you some water and something to eat?”

“Heading back to bed? At this time in the afternoon?” Tony interrupted with a playful scoff as she jumped up to sit on the countertop. He looked at you then Natasha before whistling through his teeth, “You, Miss Romanoff, look like shit.”

“Shut up Stark.” It was too early to be dealing with his shenanigans. Natasha just rolled her eyes, judging it best to simply ignore him, “And just for the record, it’s barely 10am. No idea what world you live in where that’s considered afternoon.”

"That's probably the world where Tony's been up since 4am tinkering with his latest suit," Steve chimed in, entering the kitchen with a knowing smile. He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and took a bite, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Natasha gave a weak chuckle which was quickly followed by a short cough into her elbow, rubbing a hand down the front of her throat. She swallowed and tried her best not to wince at the painful sensation which followed.

Of course you noticed. “I’ll grab you that water.” You rubbed her back gently for a moment before heading to the fridge.

“I didn’t even know you could get sick yknow.” Clint piped up, seemingly deciding to join in on the conversation. He’d previously been too engaged with trying to solve the children’s word search on the back of his brightly coloured cereal box.

She looked over towards him, “What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed a little.

“I dunno.” He shrugged, “I just mean, I’ve never even seen you close to sick. Like when you had the gnarly shoulder cut that got infected, you didn’t even run a fever or anything like most people do.”

Tony pulled a face of disgust, “Barton, I really do not need to be hearing about gross shoulder gashes when I’m trying to enjoy my coffee, thank you very much.” Clint pulled a similar face to mock him before throwing a tea towel in his general direction, leading the two of them to start bickering at each other.

You’d just been handing your girlfriend the bottle of water when Bruce strolled in - adjusting his glasses and taking in the scene. "How come everyone's so chipper this morning," He asked dryly. "What's going on?"

"Romanoff’s caught the plague," Tony took a break from messing with Clint to speak in his most serious voice, earned several eyerolls from around the room, "But don't worry, Doctor Banner, I'm sure ‘Miss I Never Take Sick Days’ will pull through."

Natasha groaned, “God you’re such an asshole.” She sniffled, rubbing at her nose for a moment. Whatever itch she’d been trying to get rid of clearly hadn’t been listening because a second later she drew in a sharp breath and sneezed twice in quick succession.

It wasn’t exactly a dainty sound, like her usual sneezes rather harsher yet still somewhat feminine. Obviously, it was still adorable, but you couldn’t help but think now wasn’t the best thing to vocalise that.

Instead, you settled for a loving, “Bless you.” as you offered her a tissue from the box nearby. She mumbled a quiet thank you, dabbing at her nose. The teasing continued as you rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

"Maybe she just needs more vitamins," Clint suggested with a smirk. "Or maybe a new suit of armour, Tony?"

"Please, like I'd let anyone else touch my suits," Tony replied, his voice dripping with mock horror. Natasha sneezed again, a little louder this time and he pointed over in her direction, “Plus there’s no way I’m letting someone that drippy inside one of my suits. I’m not in the mood to expose my lab to a walking biohazard.”

“You’re exhausting.” Natasha sniffled from behind a tissue. Her nose was starting to take on an irritated red twinge. She coughed again before clearing her throat roughly, “s’cuse me.”

You felt your gaze soften a little, “You’re okay sweetheart.” You spoke reassuringly, before offering an outstretched hand as you slid from your stool, “How ‘bout we head back up to bed, get you away from all the men-pheromones. They surely can’t be making you feel any better.”

It didn’t take much convincing for her to agree.

She accepted your hand gratefully as helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her as you both walked back to your room.

Once back in your room, you gently guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. "How about I run you a nice relaxing bath?" You suggested, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. The subtle heat rising from her skin didn’t go unnoticed though, “Poor girl, you're completely burning up here, aren’t you?”

You made a mental note to take her temperature and get some medicine into her later. You knew she’d likely fight you about it, but that bridge could be crossed when it came to it.

In the current moment Natasha nodded, “A bath sounds nice.” Her voice was a little worse than earlier, a little more congested and scratchier.

“Okay, give me a few minutes and I'll get it ready," You said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before heading into the bathroom.

It didn’t take long to draw the bath. You methodically checked it to make sure it wasn’t too hot nor cold, even going as far to add a generous squirt of your berry-scented bubble bath. You weren’t entirely sure she’d be able to smell it but the clouds of fluffy bubbles covering the surface of the water certainly did the job. The steam began to rise, filling the room with a comforting warmth. You smiled to yourself and drew a little heart on the condensation-soaked mirror before heading back out to get Nat.

Natasha wasn’t where you’d left her. Instead, she was led down on the bed, curled up with her back facing the door. You knew she wasn’t asleep by her breathing, so you gently came to sit by her side, “Natty?” You murmured quietly, reaching out to stroke her back when you noticed the damp sniffles coming from her. She was crying.

“Oh baby, what’s up my love?” You were pulling her into your arms in an instant. She clung onto you; her body wracked with feverish chills. You knew fevers made her weepy, but this was different. Your poor baby was distraught.

The redhead sobbed for a little longer, before sniffling thickly, “I don’t know.” She managed to stammer out, wiping her eyes but fresh tears quickly came to replace them.

“Was it the boys earlier?” You scowled, “I know they didn’t mean harm but-“

She shook her head, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen her, "No, it's not that. I’m just- I just feel so exhausted... my whole-body hurts and I feel so ill." Her voice cracked as she tried to speak, blinking as your hand gently moved up to wipe away the tears streaming down her fave.

You wrapped her in a gentle hug, rubbing her back soothingly. "I know, sweetheart, I know. It's sucks to feel sick; I understand especially how hard it is when you’re not used to it either. You’re my world Natasha, so just let me look after you, alright?”

She nodded after a moment and you gave her a few minutes to let it all out, holding her until she was ready. Eventually the tears stopped, and she looked up you again, “I’m okay. I’m sorry I just lost myself for moment.” She leaned away from you as she cough harshly, her poor voice sounding even worse then earlier.

You rubbed her back until she managed to stop coughing and catch her breath, “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. You and fevers don’t go well as if we both know but if we’re being honest, I think you needed that, to just get all of that out. Sometimes its better to cry it all out.”

“It still sucks though.”

“I won't argue with that,” You couldn’t hold back a chuckle. She did have a point. “How about we get you in that bath now?”

The offer wasn’t refused and soon the two of you were cooped up in the bathroom. You found yourself kneeling down by the side of the tub as you gently washed her hair, running your hand through her damp red curls.

“How does that feel baby? The steam should help open up your sinuses a little.”

Natasha closed her eyes, a small sigh escaping her lips. "It feels good, really good." Her voice was softer now, a bit more relaxed as she leaned into your touch. You continued to gently massage her scalp, feeling the tension slowly melt away under your fingers.

You reached for the cup nearby, carefully rinsing the shampoo from her hair, ensuring none of it got into her eyes. "You're doing great," You murmured, placing a soft kiss on her temple.

She sniffled again, but this time it wasn't accompanied by tears. "Thanks for taking care of me," She whispered, her eyes meeting yours with a grateful look.

“Of course.” You smiled lovingly. The two of you continued the talk quietly as you continued to wash her hair. Nat had insisted she was okay to sit by herself but the way her eyes kept drooping closed didn’t have you convinced. Eventually the water began to turn cold, and it was time for her to get out.

There was a fluffy towel ready and waiting to be wrapped around her. You’d already laid out a fresh pair of matching pyjamas for you both to change into.

You helped her into the pyjamas, making sure she was warm and comfortable. As she settled onto the bed, you pulled the covers up around her, tucking her in gently. Natasha's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but she opened them again, looking at you when she felt something being gently nestled into her hold.

Her small brown bear. Something only, you knew about. It brought her comfort when there was nobody else around, it was something you’d given to her before you’d gone on a long undercover mission. If anyone else knew how much it meant to her, she’d probably have to kill them. This was something only she could know.

"Do you need anything else my darling?" You asked quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as you climbed beneath the covers beside her.

Rolling over to face you, Natasha buried her face in your chest, “Just you, only you.” She muttered before hiding a yawn against your shirt. You knew she’d be asleep soon and you began drawing random shapes down her back as she settled into your hold, her eyes fluttering closed as she fell into a gentle sleep.

It was true Natasha Romanoff didn’t get sick often but when she did? Well, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

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[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (12/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Friendships are very important. It's good that you have new ones (who you can share things with).

Warnings: FLIRTING, PINING (you’ve been warned!), Charles is sweet, a bit of angst (talking of cheating, manipulation, ex-boxfriend)

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry for the delay! I love you! feedback is appreciated!

Except for the warm light of the floor lamp in the corner behind you and the white light from the kitchen, the apartment is dark. On the TV in front of you, you see a still from The Vampire Diaries and the white blanket on the dark blue couch next to you is crumpled, as if it had been used only recently. Sounds come from the kitchen, glasses clink together, and the refrigerator door opens and closes before the kitchen light is turned off again. 

"I'm glad you're here," Kika says as she comes back into the living room with two glasses of water, "but since you called, I'm afraid the reason isn't very positive." She places the two glasses on the coffee table in front of you and sits down next to you. 

Calling Kika was the only logical option. Of course, you could have called Charles, but he's had such an incredibly lousy day and he should be at the club with his friends instead of helping you with your problems. Besides, you don't want to burden him with something he simply can't solve. Something neither of you can't solve. 

You pull your knees to your chest. "I didn't mean to bother you, I really didn't. Especially because you said you had to get up early tomorrow and I'm so sorry to just barge in, but I just didn't know where to go."

Kika puts her hand on your knee and squeezes it gently. "I told you that you could call me anytime. And I meant it." She reaches for the cozy blanket between you and spreads it over your legs. And even though you're already warm, you pull the blanket closer to you. 

"I know, but-"

"No buts," she interrupts you. Her gaze is gentle as she rubs your arm. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

You'd love to hog the cozy blanket and wrap yourself so tightly in it that you can barely breathe. Most of all, you'd like to just go to sleep and forget what happened. But you called Kika to give you shelter while your ex waits outside your apartment for you to come home. 

You owe her an answer.

"After Lando walked me to my car," you begin, and Kika raises her eyebrows with a grin. You roll your eyes. "Stop that. So. I drove home after that, and when I turned into the street, I saw my ex's car."

Kika narrows her eyes a little and tilts her head, as if she doesn't understand why your ex-boyfriend's appearance ruined your night. "Aaaaaand we don't like your ex?" she asks. 

You shake your head vehemently. "Definitely not."

Your new friend smooths the blanket over her legs. "What happened?"

"The better question would be: What didn't happen?" You reach for your water glass and take a big gulp. "Do you want the short version or the long version?"

The way Kika leans against the armrest of the couch and pulls the blanket up to her chin, looking at you with huge eyes, you don't need a verbatim answer.

You slide around a bit on the couch to get a little more comfortable, and cross your legs to sit cross-legged. "When I moved here to work a few months ago, I met Raphael at a photo shoot and we hit it off right away," you begin to tell her. Kika soaks up every word as if it was water and she was a sponge. "We went on a few dates and at one point he asked me to be his girlfriend and at first everything was really perfect. He was an absolute gentleman, his friends became my friends and we all got along so great."

"That sounds like there's a big fat "but" following that," Kika interjects and you tap your index finger against your nose. 

"We were together for some time and everything was okay until he, um..." You don't know how to finish the sentence without making your ex look like the biggest asshole in the world. Although he definitely deserves that. You wring your hands. 

"Spit it out, you'll feel better."

You rub your palms over your cheeks and run your fingers through your hair once before closing your eyes. "He pressured me into sleeping with him."

Kika slaps her hand in front of her mouth. "Please tell me you didn't sleep with him." She leans forward and puts her hands on your shoulders to shake you. "Tell me you didn't fuck that asshole!"

You shake your head and look down at your hands in your lap. "Of course I didn't. I'm not stupid." You purse your lips and look up at the ceiling. "I thought I loved him, and I was this close to caving in." You hold your thumb and index finger close together.

"And then?"

"Then he slept with someone else."

Kika leans back and presses her left fist into her right palm to make her knuckles crack. "I'm going to kill that motherfucker."

"It's okay," you counter, but Kika just raises an eyebrow. 

"It's definitely not okay, Y/N."

"Of course it's not okay," you confirm her, ruffling your hair, "But I can't help it, and I broke up with him right away, too. Pressuring me for sex is one thing," Kika throws a pillow at you, "a mega super duper shitty thing, but cheating on me and trying to manipulate me into sleeping with him as a result - that's where I draw the line."

Only that's where you draw the line?!" Kika puts her face in her hands and shakes her head. "Okay, okay." She takes a deep breath. "So you broke up with him. What happened next?"

"He wouldn't leave me alone. He keeps calling, trying to convince me to get back with him."

"I hope you told him that's never going to happen and he can kiss your ass."

You pucker your mouth a little. "Not really. He called yesterday and Charles took the call."

Kika grabs a pillow and wraps her arms around it like she's watching a gruesome horror movie and not listening to your ex-boyfriend problems. "He did not."

You purse your lips. "He did."

Kika bites the pillow. "And then?"

"Well, he answered the phone with „this is her roomate“."

"And now you're afraid that's exactly why Raphael was standing outside your apartment? Do you think he would want to hurt you or Charles?" she asks, taking a sip of her water. 

You shrug your shoulders. "He was never violent, not at all. But by now I don't even recognize him. It's like he's done a 180."

Inside, you're struggling with yourself. Confiding all this to Kika feels right and wrong at the same time. After all, you've only known each other for a few hours. And if you weren't hogging her couch and she was kind enough to let you have it, you certainly wouldn't have spilled your guts either. 

You're not particularly good at it either, which is why you usually handle problems yourself and work them out with yourself. But something about this matter tells you that's not possible this time. But that doesn't mean you won't try to handle it all on your own.

Kika slides closer to you and clasps your hands with hers. "Did you tell Charles about this?"

You shake your head. "Not all of it. I filled him in on the circumstances after I kicked his ass for answering my phone."

Kika has to grin. "Very good." She strokes the back of your hand with her thumb. Why are her hands so soft? "But don't you think you should tell him about it? Especially since Raphael is waiting for you, or rather you, outside your apartment now?"

She's not necessarily wrong. For sure, it would be smarter to tell your roommate about it. But Charles has a lot on his plate. Burdening him with your problems is the last thing you want. 

You clear your throat and look towards the TV, where Elena and Damon are dancing together. Kika notices your look and also that you don't want to talk about the subject anymore, and you're very grateful that she doesn't push you. 

"Are you Team Delena or Stelena?" she asks, reaching for the remote. 

"Team Klaroline."

Kika presses play and the characters move again. "The only right answer."

The two of you continue watching the show together and talking until the two of you actually fall asleep, snuggled into the covers, shoulder to shoulder. 

Your vibrating cell phone, which is next to you on the couch, wakes you up, and without looking to see who's calling you, you hit the green button.

"Hello?" you ask sleepily, carefully pushing Kika's head off your shoulder so you can sit up properly. As your spine cracks, you screw up your face.

"Y/N?" someone almost yells into the phone, and you have to hold the phone away from your ear to keep from going deaf. "Where the hell are you?"

A glance at the screen tells you it's your roommate yelling at you through the receiver, jolting you awake as abruptly as an ice-cold shower. You rub your eyes and look down at Kika, who's clutching the blanket tightly. "I - um - I'm at Kika's," you answer him, slowly getting up from the couch so as not to wake your friend. At least someone should be able to get some decent sleep. 

"What the heck are you doing at Kika's? And why aren't you home?" He speaks more softly now, but still sounds irritated. 

Confused, you look at the clock. 3:54 am. 

You sneak out of the living room on your socks and close the door behind you. "Are you home?" you ask him, and the thought that Raphael might be waiting there sends a shiver down your spine. 

"Of course I'm home. Joris picked me up because you didn't answer the phone."

And sure enough. Twelve missed calls in the last hour. Mentally, you slap your forehead. "I'm so sorry, Charles. We were watching a show and fell asleep. I'll be right home."

In the kitchen, you find a pen and paper and leave a note for Kika that you drove home. No one needs to know that you're sure to commit some driving violations in the form of speeding.

What do you do when you arrive and the green Nissan is still on the scene? Would you pretend it wasn't even there? And what if Raphael was sitting in it? Would you talk to him so he wouldn't knock on the door of your apartment? 

Thank God you don't have to worry about that, because when you turn onto your street, the Nissan is nowhere to be seen, so you breathe a sigh of relief. Which sends a brief stab through your spine. Kika's couch may look comfortable, but you definitely don't want to sleep on it again. 

Before you can put the apartment key in the lock, it's yanked open from the inside and an irritated - and slightly tipsy - Charles is standing in front of you, his hands on his hips and his green eyes twinkling. 

"Do you have any idea how much I worried about you?" He turns and walks further into the apartment, a silent sign for you to follow him. "First I can't reach you, and then I come home and you're not here! I was this close to calling the police, Y/N!"

"I'm sorry, Charles. Really." When you say his name, he winces. "I didn't want you to worry. I was with Kika and we fell asleep. It wasn't intentional, and I should have let you know." 

He eyes you up and down, and only when he's sure everything is okay with you, do his hard features soften. Charles takes a step toward you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Except for the fact that your ex, who cheated on you and manipulated you, was suddenly waiting for you outside your apartment?

"Everything's fine, really. Just a little back pain. Kika's couch is not conducive to sleeping."

Charles nods slightly. "Then let's go to sleep. It's getting really late."

A few minutes later, when Charles goes to take his bedding out of the closet in the hallway, he stands puzzled in the bathroom doorway where you are brushing your teeth. "Where is my stuff?"

You nod toward the bedroom before spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth. "In the bedroom. I promised you could sleep in the bed tonight, didn't I?" Noticing his disheveled hair and tired eyes, you have to smile. "And I think you need to sleep on a soft mattress tonight more than I do."

Charles lifts one hand and rests it on the upper door frame. His shirt slides up a little, revealing a strip of his belly. "And you said you had a sore back. I think it's pretty clear who's sleeping in the bed."

You reach for the brush and comb your hair so you don't have to stare at his stomach. "It is. You."

"Can we maybe not do this?" He rubs his face with his free hand. Noticing your unyielding gaze, he drops his arms and puts his palms together. "I have a proposition." He rubs his palms together. "Since neither of us can win this argument, how about this: we share the bed."

The brush gets stuck halfway through your hair and your eyes go wide. "We - what?"

Charles shrugs, as if it's the most normal suggestion ever. "The bed is huge and the couch is so fucking uncomfortable it would be an imposition to let you sleep on it with back pain. And since you insist I sleep in the bed, why don't you just lie down on it, too?"

Your blood pounds so loudly in your ears that you can barely hear him. First you almost touch each other in the restaurant and now he wants you to share the bed? What's next?

When you don't answer, Charles gets nervous. "If you don't want to, that's perfectly okay. It was just a suggestion so that two friends could have a decent night's sleep." He nods in your direction. "And so neither your back nor mine gets ruined."

Hadn't you decided to draw a line to make this friendship work? And how is that going to work when you're lying next to each other in a cozy bed? Oh god, what if you snuggle up to him at night and he doesn't even want that? Would you even be able to sleep if he was that close to you?

Before you can answer, Charles raises his hands. "I get it. It was a stupid idea."

"No!" Rubbing your forehead, Charles looks at you in confusion. "Um, we can try this out if you want. For one night." You put the brush back in its place. "I mean, friends can share a bed, no? There's nothing to it."

Charles breathes a sigh of relief, and a smile that makes your heart beat faster spreads across his face. "Do you have a favorite side?" When you shake your head, he nods slightly. "I'll get everything ready and then we'll sleep together right away. Sorry. That came out wrong." He runs a hand through his hair and flush shoots into his cheeks. "We'll, um, see you in a bit," he stumbles over his words, then disappears toward the bedroom.

After closing the bathroom door, you hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. Why did you agree to his offer? Are you completely stupid? There are so many things that could happen! You could talk in your sleep, or snore, or, as already stated, snuggle up to him! Only a complete idiot would get into bed with him now!

Before you can slide down the spiral any further, you leave the bathroom in sleeping clothes and follow Charles into the bedroom. He's just pulling his shirt over his head and his back muscles are dancing under his skin, and you regret a little that you agreed to the proposition. 

The line between friendship and more is somehow getting thinner and thinner. And there's nothing you can do about it. 

"I prefer to sleep on the right side. I hope that's okay," Charles says as he pulls another shirt over his head. He walks around the bed, which has both his and your bedding on it. "I can sleep in tomorrow, so it would be cool if you were quiet when you have to go to work," he smiles as he pulls back the covers and then sits down. 

Seeing him in bed is so intimate, so private, you have to look away.

"Is everything all right?" he asks as he slides down on the bed and pulls the covers up to his waist. 

You don't dare follow him at all, but you can't stand around any further than that, so you slip under the covers on the other side of the bed. ""Everything's fine."" You plug your phone into the charger before turning over onto your back. 

Charles turns off the bedside lamp, leaving only a strip of moonlight in the room, and turns onto his back as well. In the darkness, he seems even closer than he actually is. You feel his warmth, even though there are a few inches and all the bedding between you, and the whole situation makes you so nervous that you can only breathe shallowly. God, his scentl is everywhere.

"I liked you coming with me today," Charles says into the darkness. "I enjoy spending time with you."

Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you're glad he can't see you very well. "I like spending time with you, too."

You feel Charles move, and thanks to the moonlight, you realize he's turned in your direction. You do the same.

"We're okay, aren't we?" he asks, bending his elbow and resting his head on it. 

You slide your hand under your cheek and have to swallow. "Of course," you answer him. "Why do you ask?"

He smirks. "Because we've only known each other for two days, and we've already fought so much, and now we're sharing a bed. It's all been quite a roller coaster ride." He pulls the covers a little higher toward his chest. 

You'd love to put your hand to his cheek and stroke it with your thumb, but that would surely cross a friendship line. "We're not just friends, Charles. We're roommates, too. And you're my first roommate. It's completely understandable that we need to get used to each other."

Charles exhales, and it's not until you can feel his breath on your heated skin that you realize how close he really is. "I just want us to make this work." He pauses for a moment, and even though it's dark, you can see him wrestling with himself to say the next words.

"You're just too important to me to screw this up." His voice is soft and gentle as he lifts his hand and places it between your faces, as if he's letting you decide if you want to take it. "I don't think you realize how important you are to me."

next part

[lalunanymph]

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟑: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, explicit smut (sukuna x este), gojoyn besties, forced proximity, overhearing trope, misunderstandings, tension, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs, MDNI !!

masterlist | playlist

Itadori Jin is used to cleaning up his brother’s messes.

Whenever Sukuna got himself involved in something he couldn’t handle, Jin would be there in the wings, roped into unwillingly helping him or else his brother would find himself in deeper shit than he could fathom. That has always been the nature of their relationship, and this time, it’s no different.

I want to push the wedding back by a month, his brother’s voice slurs in his memories. 

Tch, Jin internally moans. He’s just offended one of their biggest, potential investors and now, Jin has to scramble to solve the issue before your father decides that this match was not worth pursuing. 

Standing right in front of your father’s study, he raises a fist and knocks three times to get Jiro’s attention. 

The door opens, and your father finds Jin sheepishly smiling at him, hands politely clasped behind his back. 

Snapping the book in his grasp shut, the patriarch of the L/N family gestures for him to come into his study with a smile. Jin takes it as a win that he’s not frowning or angry—it means he can still salvage this deal. 

“How can I help you, Itadori-san?” 

Bowing to the older man, the Itadori Chairman humbly takes a seat before him, hands folded primly on his lap as he shoots your father a tentative smile. “I wanted to talk to you about something important—a wedding date for Sukuna and your daughter.”

“Oh.” Fully turning his attention to the younger man, your father earnestly searches Jin’s gaze, waiting for him to continue.

“I know my brother has unfairly pushed back the wedding date for a month without consulting me, and so to make amends, I want us to discuss a timing that would suit your family.”

Jiro strokes his chin. He’s dressed in a casual, blue button down and charcoal slacks, looking like a man waiting for a meeting to start rather than a relaxed father on holiday. In a way, both men were similar—Jin, too, was always alert and available to talk business despite how drained he was from the burdens of running such a big company all on his own. 

“Your consideration is admirable, Itadori-san,” your father praises, a twinkle in his eye. “I think we can put it for the middle of next month when autumn begins so it’ll be a fruitful union, don’t you think?”

“An autumn wedding,” Jin hums. “It would be lovely.”

“So that by spring, my daughter might bear both our families the fruits of her labor,” he chuckles, and Jin joins him, a little perplexed at how openly he’s speaking about your future pregnancy.

“It is my sincere hope she and my brother finds happiness together,” Jin remains polite, though he’s wondering how Sukuna would come to terms with this new arrangement.

Jiro stands and heads to his liquor cart, pouring out a measure of whiskey in two custom made glasses. “I think we should toast to this, Itadori-san.” 

Never one to miss out on a good celebration, Jin’s chuckle is considerably warmer, and he accepts the whiskey with a nod of thanks.

The older man settles onto the high back chair, and lifts up his glass.

“To both our families—may we be united as one very soon.”

Relief courses through Jin at how easily Jiro accepts the apology and suggestion, knowing that he’s overcome the hardest part. Now, it was up to Sukuna to keep their deal alive.

“To our families,” Jin touches the rim of his glass to Jiro’s. “May we be united very soon.” 

Sukuna almost misses home. 

It’s not as if he’s not enjoying his time in Hokkaido. He’s trying (keyword: trying) to play it cool with you so that Jin doesn’t get on his case and constantly harps on him to treat you better.

But, it’s so hard to keep up this facade when another woman is lingering in the back of his mind. 

Este is always in the periphery whenever he’s trying to have a conversation with you, playing cards or having a meal together. He can’t fight the feeling of how her eyes seem to burn into him, and it’s made even worse when he remembers that her room is just a few doors down from his own.

In all honesty, Sukuna would’ve made do with his own company and a glass of whiskey for tonight, when a familiar scent wafts into the room and a dark beauty wearing a seductive smile catches his eye. 

“Oi, you can’t come in here,” Sukuna scolds without looking at her. Your things are still on his side of the bed. You’re god knows where in this fucking colossal lodge, but you could return anytime to find your fiance entangled with a woman who you thought, for all intents and purposes, was his closest friend.

“Come on, Sukuna,” she coos, and he stifles the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would just egg her on. 

The tattooed man is about to call her out for her fuckery and ask her to leave when he hears the unmistakable snap of a zip lock bag opening.

He stiffens, the sound he loathes yet loves the most Pavloving him into utter stillness.

Este’s triumph melts on his tongue, but he’s immune to its taste when he slowly comes face to face with her, pupils in pinpricks and mouth slightly ajar. 

She breezes past the threshold with a coy smile, and in her hands is his salvation—his one true love he’s been missing since their excursion to the mountains.

“I couldn’t sleep, Ryo,” she purrs, and slides onto his bed, crossing her legs. It takes everything in Sukuna not to jump her and grab the small packet grasped in between her purple acrylics, its contents shaken teasingly as she drags her gaze up and down his fit build. “So, I thought, why don’t I come here with our favorite lullaby?”

That deranged pit inside of him twists and turns, clawing out for relief. He swallows hard, and she doesn’t miss how his eyes never leave the white powder in her hands.

She knows it’s been days since his last hit; in fact, she was there when they were both high out of their fucking minds.

Este is treading dangerous waters, especially when she senses the tension emanating off him in waves. The tightening cord of the muscles in his jaw, the hitched breath.

There is no way you’re going to do this, the last shred of sanity inside of him screams. This is yours and Y/N’s bedroom! It’s sacrilegious to even bring another person here. 

But, like every warning in his life, he ignores it, dragging his feet towards her. An unwilling slave to this prison that she’s erected with her own two hands—playing on his ruin with a smile on her rose blush lips and a twinkle in her deep brown eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles hoarsely. Sukuna unwillingly lays it on thick, the desperation making him say things he doesn’t mean. “I need you.”

“You do?” She loves to tease him, draw out his relief. “If you did, then why are you getting closer and closer to her, hmm?” 

Oh. Sukuna’s brow knits together. She’s talking about you. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” He fights back the urge to snarl, needing to play nice with her so he can feel the hit in his veins; the adrenaline spiking and taking him down those blessed roads of blissful numbness.

A pout worms its way on her full lips, and Sukuna feels his cock twitch in his sleep pants.

“Y/N,” she drags your name like it’s a curse, eyes flashing darkly. “I hate it that she’s here. That I have to see you two together.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, planting his hands on either side of her thighs. This close, he can see the sheen of some expensive serum or another glazing her skin, taste her minty breath. 

He drags his nose up her neck, feeling her pulse quicken underneath the thin skin. Skin which blooms easily with marks, he thinks, as he places his lips on where her blood hums the wildest, sucking and tasting her till she tenses and her thighs squeeze.

Gotcha. Sukuna hears her breathing deepen, and he senses her crumbling walls; the flimsy self-control she barely has disintegrating to dust right at his feet. 

He grabs the packet from her hands, continuing to kiss and lick down her neck, leaving his marks between her breasts and around them—careful not to mark her neck in case the other families notice.

She preens and whines under his attention, her legs instinctively hooking around his midsection. He chuckles, a low, baritone sound which makes her shakily whimper out his name.

The straps of her nightgown slip off her shoulders while he’s busy tasting her skin, and Sukuna eggs them on; removing the scanty piece of clothing and leaving her bare, firm body open to his scrutiny.

As thanks for her kindness in sharing such a gift with him, Sukuna rips open the package and tips it over her chest, leaving a well-practiced white line in between her tits. 

Este giggles when she feels his hair tickling her neck, and Sukuna inhales the coke with a flourish, letting the drugs coat his neurotransmitters, bringing a zing of happiness all the way up into his brain. He kisses her, well and deep with tongue, and Este reciprocates, running her hands up and down his back; squeezing his biceps and grabbing his shoulders. 

Blood rushes down his body, straight to his cock, and he can’t hold back any longer; he needs to reward her for her kindness.

“Keep your legs spread,” he commands, pushing the band of his sweatpants down to free his stiff cock. Those glassy vermillion eyes focus on her lips, using them as an anchor when he leans forward and kisses her; a distraction for when he pushes past her tight pussy.

“Ssh,” he mumbles, slapping a huge hand over her mouth. Sukuna would personally kill himself if any of the other upper echelon families found out about his affair with Este. “Shut up. No one can know you’re here.” 

She nods behind his palm, and he keeps it there in case she can’t control her reactions. Moving inside of her, Sukuna feels her body rhythmically pulsing along with his, a dance the two of them were familiar with.

The coke messes with his mind, and his resolve weakens considerably, especially when he removes his palm and kisses her right on her parted mouth.

“I love you,” she whines past his lips, where he tastes her desperation and the truth he can’t spit out of his mouth. His bloodshot eyes devour her expressions, wondering how many times he’s put her in this position and he comes to terms with the fact that he’s lost count. 

Sukuna doesn’t reply to her inebriated declaration, choosing instead to kiss her hard when she shatters around his cock with a soft cry of his name.

Throughout the entire trip, you’ve never exactly hung out with Sukuna one-on-one. 

It was always chaperoned by your mother or an activity attended by the other important families so you two would never fully be alone. Since the Gojos sent their only son as a representative, you would hang out with Satoru on afternoons when your artistic inspiration was at its lowest. 

Despite having every right to be reserved with you as your family was not on the level of vieux riche as theirs were, Satoru was easy company to keep throughout the day. Whenever you painted, he would hang around you, throwing jokes and chortles which distracted you from your rampant art block and eased your discomfort till you were comfortable enough to rib him back.

“Oi, Y/N, get your eyes off the canvas and let’s go for a soak,” Satoru whines, and you narrowly dodge a cushion he throws at you.

Scoffing indignantly, you pick the throw up and lob it back to him, catching him square in the face. “This is just an excuse for you to see me in a towel, Satoru.”

If your mother were here, she would chastise your blatant words, citing them as a flirtation tactic which would jeopardize your deal with the Itadoris. But, thankfully, she was having tea with the other mamas, and wasn’t around to hear you and giggling at Satoru’s betrayed expression. 

“Then bring your damn fiance along and let’s get this show on the road,” he groans, tossing his head back and letting it thump against the sofa back. “I’m so bored out of my wits. The mountains have nothing. No clubs, no hot girls. I’m famished.”

“What if we went skiing?” you suggested. Not one for pursuing the slopes, this was a new adventure zone for you, but Satoru didn’t have to know about your discomfort. He perks up, grinning. You think that in another life, you and Gojo could’ve been the best of siblings. 

“I think that’s great,” he claps his hands, looking like an overgrown 6’3 toddler with twinkling blue eyes. “We can take the pro slope! And then once we’re done, let’s go for some ochazuke—”

“What’s happening?” 

Instantly, the air in the room nosedives to Hyperborean levels. Sukuna and Este stand by the second living room door, and you miss how Satoru’s bright blue gaze darts from between them, his mouth twisting at the corners. 

You don’t sense his unease, back going ramrod straight as you shoot your fiance a smile. “Hey, Itadori-san. Satoru was just thinking we should go skiing. I’ve never done it before, so maybe you can show me?”

What was an innocent question was met with a smirk from him and a giggle from Este. 

“Sukuna loves skiing,” she says, and you’re confused why they’re both sharing a look of knowing contempt. 

“Oh,” you mutter. “If that’s the case then it’ll be great if you can join, too, Este-san.”

While you weren’t exactly comfortable with spending having Este onboard, it would be rude to not try and include her. Maybe you both would finally break the ice, figuratively and literally, and get to know each other better.

Sukuna opens his mouth, and you think he’s about to reject your offer, when Este butts in with a saccharine sweet, “I would love that! Wouldn’t you, ‘Kuna?” 

If either men were thrown off by the sudden flirtatious note in her tone, they didn’t bring it up to you. Satoru looks away, coughing awkwardly, while Sukuna glares, his displeasure hewed out of stone cold annoyance.

Backed into a corner by his oldest friend and with nowhere to go, Sukuna raises his hands in defeat, tossing you a careless smirk which makes you catch your breath.

“I guess I have no choice. We should all go, then, Y/N. Does 3PM sound good?”

This time, it’s you who opens your mouth but is interrupted by Satoru who barks out a laugh. 

“3PM is perfect.” 

Sukuna levels him a look which Satoru doesn’t back down from. As one of the most important heirs in the country’s economic wheel, the white-haired man is a key player in any future biddings of mergers; Sukuna knows not to overstep in case he misses out on a pot of gold.

Flashing the other man a brief grin, Sukuna nods. “Fine. 3PM, then.”

As he disappears out of the room, Este trails behind him, looking like a lost puppy following after her owner’s heels.

The sight doesn’t give you any malicious afterthought, until it’s Satoru who clears his throat and you look up to find him frowning.

“Don’t you think it’s strange,” he starts, and confusion settles in for you when he nervously darts his gaze away.

“What’s strange?” 

Instead of answering you, the Gojo heir lobs you a look of pure disbelief. “Um, hello? Don’t we both have eyes? I’m sure yours is still working, Y/N-kun.”

Your brows knit together, and you mumble a quick, “Huh?” 

Satoru heaves in a dramatic sigh, as if he can’t believe he has to do this. “Oh my god, don’t make me spell it out for you—Este and Sukuna.” 

You’re genuinely confused now, setting your palette and brush down. “What about the both of them?” 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you’re confronted with Gojo’s annoyed stare. Shrinking back, you wait for his anger to overflow, as it tends to do with people in these circles who have little patience for you. And it does—just, surprisingly, not directed at you. 

“They think they’re so slick being all cuddly and lovey-dovey right in front of us like we wouldn’t talk,” he hisses. “I’m sure the maids are already gossiping amongst themselves. Sukuna is shameless to act this way—especially to you of all people considering you’re gonna be his future wife.” 

You’re struck mute by his observation and without warning, a dull ache pierces your chest. You wince, and look away from those glacial blue eyes, needing some time to compose yourself before you speak cautiously, as if every word you put forward has the potential to trap you under a crushing weight. 

“Sukuna and Este have been close friends since they were in university together, Satoru. I trust my fiance and know he wouldn’t hurt me like this,” you pause, biting your lower lip. “Especially when he himself knows what’s at stake if he doesn’t marry me.”

Satoru wrinkles his nose. “Accepting it and actually having to live through it are two different things, Y/N. Imagine if you married him and it’s not the life you want? Would you still be this nonchalant about your fate?” 

His intentions come from a good place, but you couldn’t help feeling like a little girl getting a thorough scolding. 

Removing your paint-splattered overalls, you drape it over the chair, sighing. “It’s not like I had hopes we would be in love or even happy together, Satoru. As long as Itadori-san respects me, I’m willing to see this marriage through—for the sake of my family.”

The note of finality you elucidate is enough for Satoru to take heed and pause. 

You can tell he’s still disgruntled on your behalf, but doesn’t say a word, shrugging his broad shoulders. “You know what, you’re stronger than most of us, Y/N. Anyway, just please be careful and—”

He surprises you by reaching out to grab your wrist, holding you in place. Those icy blue eyes of his melt, transforming into two pools of worry. 

“—if you ever need someone to talk to, you can always reach out to me.” He lets go of your wrist, and in a show of kindness you don’t deserve, says:

“I’m here for you as a friend. You’re going to need someone soon enough, Y/N.”

Satoru’s words linger long in your mind as you gaze out of the sedan’s tinted window, dressed in your skiing gear. 

The Gojo heir had an emergency meeting to handle and couldn’t follow you to the slopes, so it’s just you, Sukuna and Este. 

Butterflies pool in your stomach, their wings collectively beating a disconcerting tune that threatens to spill out of your ribcage. You feel slightly dizzy when the car comes to a stop, right at the lobby of a nearby resort. 

Disembarking, you accept your butler’s help to carry your gear, the rumbling of another pair of wheels catching your attention. 

Sukuna steps out of the Jeep, Este right behind him as they’re laughter rings through your buzzing ears, dying down once they notice you at the entrance. 

His grin takes you off guard, and he sweeps past her, surprising you both by wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Glancing up at him, it’s easy to be blinded by his effortless charisma, the indents of dimples on his cheeks whenever his smile grows too wide. 

“Thanks for waiting for us, Y/N. Come on—you’re gonna enjoy this ride.”

You let him steer you towards the practice slopes, and he even bends down to snap on your gear for you, making sure to adjust your helmet and goggles. All three layers of your clothes and windbreaker makes you feel like a bobbing snowman, your grumbles making him snicker.

“At least when you fall on your ass, it’ll be well-padded.”

“What do you mean?” It’s easy to mishear his words as a provocation, especially when he couples them with that devilish smile you’re still getting used to. 

Sukuna snorts, handing you the poles an instructor passes to him. “Come on, or we’ll miss the ski lift.” 

In your periphery, another instructor helps Este with her boots, and you try not to pay too much attention to how even in multiple layers, she manages to look so effortlessly chic. Her sleek black gear strikes a contrast with the white powdery snow, and compared to your girlish pink jacket and board you borrowed from your mother, it’s clear who’s the seasoned pro.

“I’ll catch you both down the slope, okay?” She chimes as she passes by the two of you. Luckily, your back faces Sukuna, or else you would’ve noticed the slight frown he wore.

“Be careful,” he warns, and she waves him off.

“I know what I’m doing.” Tossing you a smirk, she adds, “Whatever you do, don’t fall flat on your face, Y/N—it won’t be pretty.” 

Before you could retort, she’s gliding away towards the ski lift, and you’re left in an awkward state together with your fiance.

“Well, come on,” he mutters gruffly, dropping all pretext now that nobody’s here to see him pretend. “Your mother told us to get back in time for dinner. Let’s move now.”

You follow behind him, trudging in your too big boots and using your ski poles as support. The wind bites through the scarf pulled up high over your cheeks, and you swear your fingers are frozen around the pole. But, you don’t pay any of it too much attention, focusing on following Sukuna right to the ski lift. 

He’s a natural with his movements, fluid and sure, and you follow his instructions to lift off the second your board touches the ground. For a split second, you’re cruising down the slope when you’re gaining too much momentum, and speed past him. A scream rips from your throat and you try to slow down, digging in your heels… 

Only to fall flat right on your ass, like he predicted. 

Soreness radiates from where you’re planted on the ground, and you wince, trying to stand.

Sukuna skids to a stop right in front of you, and instead of helping you up, he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” you whine, and try to stand. Unfortunately, your core muscles aren’t strong enough, and you flop right back down to the ground. He doesn’t assist you, arching a brow and waiting for you to stand.

“Come on. Just tuck in your tailbone and try to stand.”

“I can’t!” you shoot back, giving him a murderous glare. “Help me, damn it.” 

Sukuna snorts, and you’re sure he would at least extend a hand, not shrug and kick up snow once he pivots away, joining the black dot in the distance that you recognize as Este. 

Humiliation creeps up to you in burning waves, making your face all hot and splotchy. 

The snow is starting to make your ski pants wet, and you’re close enough to disregard your dignity and flop onto your belly just for a chance to try and shuffle onto your hands and knees, when a tall figure blocks out the sunlight, casting you in his shadow.

“Damn, already kissing the ground, loser?” 

You don’t expect to see Satoru right in front of you, bearing a smirk and an outstretched hand. 

“Wait, why’re you here—?” 

“Meeting ended early, so I came to watch you embarrass yourself,” he replies and giggles as if it was the funniest joke in the world. 

Tossing him a glare, you don’t refute his help, especially when it comes after Sukuna’s rejection. He effortlessly tugs you up, scrutinizing you from head to toe for any injuries. Satisfied at finding none, he turns his attention to another pressing matter.

“They didn’t wait for you?” Satoru questions once you’re stable on your feet. Fighting back shivers from the frigid cold, you shake your head.

He doesn’t say another word, though you can tell the wheels in his head are turning. But, he chooses to shrug it off, gesturing down the peaks, looking tall and sturdy in his professional gray gear and UV protection goggles. 

“Race you down to the bottom—loser has to buy the other one a beer!”

“Hey—”

For the second time today, you’re left tasting snow in your mouth when Satoru shoots past you, straight to the end goal. Without any time to waste, you push yourself downwards, maneuvering with the ski poles, hellbent on beating that lanky asshole and showing Sukuna that you could handle yourself.

You’re going faster than before, everything becomes white in your periphery; focusing on passing the break of fir trees faster than Satoru could. Someone calls for you to stop, and you bend your knees, snow flying everywhere, breathing hard when you realize you’re almost at the lip of another cabin.

Huffing, Satoru comes behind you, narrowing his eyes with his cheeks red and puffy. 

“Oi, you could’ve collided into a wall with that speed,” he grumbles, but you don’t hear him.

“Did I win?” You look around expectantly, and notice Sukuna trudging towards you both.

“Satoru,” he doesn't sound the least amicable when regarding the other man; in fact, he sounds sort of disappointed. “Why’re you here?” 

“I came to see if Y/N could beat your ass,” he smoothly changes his motive, and you gape, wondering if you should call him out in front of your fiance.

“Everything was fine,” he says and jerks his head towards you. “She didn’t die.”

“I wasn’t here for her,” Satoru snorts, and if you weren’t buzzing from the adrenaline, you would’ve noticed Sukuna glaring at him like a cat who’s had its prey snapped up from its jaw by another feline.

Their bickering is interrupted by Este sliding to a stop next to Sukuna, her pale cheeks glowing from the cold. You subconsciously touch your beanie, hoping it's not askew and your hair is not in a mess. 

“Stop fighting,” she snorts, the winter breeze playing with the ends of her brown locks. Landing her gaze on you, you’re surprised to find a fond smile etched on her lips, as if you two were close friends rather than awkward acquaintances—another ruse meant to confuse you and Satoru.

“All that matters is Y/N has won and that’s it. I think we should rent a cabin and celebrate.”

Shockingly, it’s Satoru who’s all for it. “Yeah, sounds like a plan,” he enthuses, and you wonder what he has up his sleeve. “I’ll make a call. Excuse me.”

Within seconds when Gojo leaves and you’re left standing, dumbstruck with a frowning Sukuna and an aloof Este, you wonder what you had done in your past life to deserve such excruciating awkwardness. The Nara heiress is scrolling through her phone and Sukuna stifles a yawn, both of them looking like they would be anywhere else in the world rather than here.

“—thank you!”

Everyone perks up when Satoru ambles back to the group, a big grin in place. “Found a spot. Cabin 12. Come on. The owner says they’re usually booked but it’s a rare gem for vacant spots.”

Begrudgingly, you follow Satoru, Este and Sukuna, feeling out of place when the three of them strike up conversations about business and properties, your own knowledge of your father’s company being shoddy at best. All of them come from old money and have seen how their grandfathers ran these companies since they could walk while you, on the other hand, barely visited your father’s office if you could help it.

To say you were a fish out of the water was an understatement. 

“... $5 million in notes, they should be launching an IPO anytime soon.”

“Nice,” Sukuna nods appreciatively, sparing Este a sly smile. “40,000 shares would suffice, don’t you think?” 

She scoffs, and you wonder why out of everyone else’s word, hers is taken into more consideration than Satoru’s who is the literal heir to the great Gojo Corp. 

“Make that 50,000. Projections on profits are at 13% come next quarter. You should bank then buck when January rolls around or else you’re going to suffer.”

Satoru hums, and turns back to look at you, the glint in his ice-blue eyes cajoling you to join in the conversation and not linger behind the group like a silent shadow.  

“Dreaming of opening any big businesses, Y/N?” 

Uncomfortable with the sudden attention on you, your eyes fall to the snow-packed ground, buying yourself time to reply. “Um… I told Itadori-san before that I wanted to open an art gallery—”

“Why?” Before you could even finish your thought, Este interrupts you with a scoff. She looks at you like you’ve failed a simple comprehension test, her mauve lips tautly pulled into a pout. “Art galleries are money drainers, Y/N. Even a child knows that.” 

She scrutinizes you from head to toe, and you can’t help the shiver tearing through you which has nothing to do with the sub zero mountain temperature. 

“Galleries are for bored wives of rich men who have nothing to do and nothing to show for.” She waves a hand towards Sukuna’s direction. “But, I suppose that’s all your life will be once you marry Sukuna, isn’t that right?” 

You don’t know how to answer her, and you’re spared from this cringeworthy situation when Satoru exclaims, “We’re here!”

Saved by the bell, you hasten your steps, catching up to Gojo and leaving both Sukuna and Este behind. 

Satoru leans close, and to anyone else it looks like he’s trying to tell you a joke, but the reality could not be any different. 

“Don’t let her get to you, okay?” He advises, an easygoing smile on his lips though you can detect an undercurrent of tension from his words. “It isn’t worth it to get worked up over people like her.”

You want to ask him what he means by people like her when you catch your tongue, coming to the slow realization. 

Both Sukuna and Este were two sides of the same coin, equally vicious and mean-spirited towards you when you meant no harm. Does Satoru know about how treats me behind doors and makes me sleep on the floor when we’re supposed to share a bed together? You debate telling him about it, wondering how he would react; if he would recoil in disgust or shrug as if such a thing were normal. 

There isn’t any time to reconsider when he opens the door, leading everyone into a simple yet clean looking living room space with wide windows and a tiny fireplace belching out heat. 

“Let’s rest here and reconvene later to go back up to our base,” Gojo suggests. No one refutes him, too tired to make the long trek back to the hotel lobby and wait for their Range Rovers to arrive. “Y/N,” he looks at you, “Do you want to help me in the kitchen?” 

Satoru cooks? You wonder what else the Gojo heir can surprise you with. As you tag along and follow the white-haired man into the kitchen, you feel someone’s gaze on you. 

Turning back, you see Sukuna’s sharp stare piercing through you. 

But, before you can open your mouth and ask him what’s wrong, he drops his gaze and sinks onto the couch, ignoring your existence once again. 

“... reports of a snowstorm ravaging Mount Hakodate... advised to stay inside... skiing operations are suspended for the time being…”

Heavy snowfall batters against the glass windows, the hail gusting outside rattling the cabin’s hollow walls as the radio cracks the news in the background. 

You’re huddled up next to Satoru, close to the fireplace while Sukuna stays by your right, Este tucked right next to him. 

The reason for such close proximity isn’t because of want, but because of the embers glowing faintly from the fireplace and the lack of firewood which spikes unspoken worries across the room. You fight back a shiver, imagining your mother’s frantic worry and your father trying to reason with the other parents to bring down a rescue team for his daughter and future son-in-law.

No one could’ve anticipated such a setback, the snowstorm warning coming in shortly after the doors started rattling and white snow blankets the outside world, covering the windows and effectively locking everyone inside until further notice.

Your stomach growls and you’re reminded that besides some spiked eggnog, you’ve barely eaten anything for the day.

“We should’ve left for the lodge when we had a chance,” Este grumbles. Sukuna echoes her frustration in a sigh. 

“I’m going to lie down on the bed, it’s too cramped here,” he complains, mouth set in a sour line as he trudges towards a nearby room. Satoru watches and waits to see if Este would follow him, but she doesn’t, wisely staying put to not draw more attention to her. 

Smart girl, he thinks. She’s playing the long-term game. He shudders to think what would happen if he wasn’t here with you—how she wouldn’t bother to hide behind a facade as she sinks her talons into your fiance.

Satoru casts a look towards you, and what he feels bubbling in his chest catches him unexpectedly. 

He wants nothing more than for you to open your eyes to what he can clearly see right in front of him. But, you’re too innocent and sweet for your own good. You think no one has it out for you, when this world is made of thorns and deception, thriving on the strong devouring the weak. And as the strongest, he has a duty to watch out for those who can’t even protect themselves.

“We’ll get home safely,” he says to the quiet room. You smile at his attempt at trying to comfort the both of you, while Este rolls her eyes petulantly, ever the pessimist.

“We better,” she grumbles, inspecting her nails and frowning when she finds her pinkie nail chipped. “I need another dose of retinol… this cold is making me shrivel up.” 

You can tell Satoru is resisting the urge to snort because you’re trying your hardest not to as well. 

Catching his eye, you think it’s not so bad to be caught in this storm if you had him by your side.

“So,” he starts, ignoring Este and focusing on you. “You beat me at the race. When would you like to claim your free beer?” 

You miss how the brunette gives you a look laced with shock and outward contempt. Satoru’s attention is not on her either, the both of you collectively deciding to ignore her like she was a piece of furniture in this room.

“I guess whenever you’re free.” Unable to resist subtly throwing Este’s words back in her face, you mumble, “Maybe after I set up the gallery because that’s all my life will be—boring—so you’ll have to brighten it a little, Satoru.”

He exhales a laugh, and from the corner of your eye, you see Este shooting you a look of vitriol.

Keeping up with your wit, the white-haired man snorts, shaking his head.

“Anything to liven up a bored, rich wife’s life, am I right?”

The minute all four of you return to safety once the snowstorm subsides, your mother calls for a party to celebrate.

Barely finding your footing out of the Range Rover and back to the warmth of the lodge, you’re whisked away to get ready for the night, this confusing turn of events exacerbated by Sukuna’s distance when you both have a chance to unwind in the shared room. 

He doesn’t utter a word when you set your clothes on the bed, faraway gaze locked in the distance as if he couldn’t be bothered with your presence. 

“Itadori-san, you didn’t catch a cold, right?” 

His attention snaps back to you, and you shrink back, wondering if you’ve done something wrong judging from his bitter glare.

“Why don’t you ask Gojo instead, hmm? Seeing as you’re both being so chummy together.”

You pause from the motion of wiping your face, gaping at him in confusion. “Excuse me?” 

Your fiance, who only a few hours ago barely cared to help you to your feet from the slopes, advances towards you, a sneer on his handsome face as he corners you flush to the wall, close enough for you to smell the threatening anger wafting off of him. 

“Don’t you fucking play stupid with me, woman,” he snarls. “I saw the way you looked at him. Do you want me to tell daddy that his little girl is two-timing her fiance with another man?”

Grating and mocking. His words send a chill up your spine. You want to fight back—to tell him that he’s wrong and that if anyone is to be blamed, it’s him with his blatant preference for Este over you. But, the words can’t fall from your tongue. To say them would be to confront their existence, and you’re not sure if you have the courage to cross that bridge just yet.

The idea of your fiance preferring another woman, even if she’s his friend, doesn't sit right with you. Coupled with the fact that he’s never once spoken ill of her and solely chose to treat you harshly makes you wonder if Satoru’s words were right—if Este and Sukuna are more than just friends.

“You’re insane,” you splutter, pushing him away. “Satoru and I are just friends. Unlike you and Este.”

His sneer falters, and you swear for a single second you see a sheen of fear in his vermillion eyes. It’s instantly replaced with disdain. 

“Now, you’re the one who’s insane. Este?” He scoffs and grabs your arm, dragging you close enough so you’re face-to-face with him. Heart in your throat, you feel the fear pressing close to you, breathing down your neck like a terrifying poltergeist. 

“Don’t you dare insinuate something like that.” He lets you go, pushing you away, leaving you to stumble and hold onto the wall to right yourself. “Know your place, Y/N.”

The storm of his retribution passes, and he leaves you alone with your chaotic thoughts, mind racing a mile a minute.

Anger… fear… injustice…

It all coalesces in you until you feel its tightening grip around your throat. Your vision narrows to nothing but your trembling palms; your heart is beating so erratically you think it might claw out of your chest. 

You hear nothing. See nothing. 

Why? The unfairness crashes into you, clogging your mind, numbing to sensations until you feel like you exist in a vacuum, floating aimlessly in a void created by the lack of your fiance’s presence.

He hates you. Sukuna hates you with every fiber of his being.

You thought it was a joke; a blip of his personality where he takes time to open up and get to know a person. But, right off the bat, he’s never liked you.

For what reason? You try to wrack your brain for a hint of wrongdoing you’ve committed against him, shuffling through memories, micro-expressions, a change in the mood or tone which signifies the reason for his deep seated anger towards you.

Your rumination comes up empty. 

You stagger back onto the bed, feeling its softness for the first time in days, casting your gaze to the alcove with a futon, blanket and pillow he’s made you sleep on so he doesn’t have to be burdened by your presence.

Humiliation grates you like a shredder, sloughing away your defenses until only anger remains and you stagger to your feet, fists clenched to your side.

You were going to ask him the reason once and for all. 

Why do you hate me?

What have I ever done to you?

Do you even want this marriage in the first place?

What average people didn’t know about the ultra rich was that they were born with a different set of shackles—restraints which many of them couldn’t even comprehend. 

Unlike the other individuals in your society concerned with superficial things like money, status or accumulated wealth, your concern has and always will be, your family’s well being. It didn’t matter what role you had to play. You understood from a young age how important you were to your father’s legacy—his position in this society—and you would do anything to help him advance it.

That was your role. These were your shackles.

And didn’t Sukuna have the same type of burden?

He, too, was raised with the idea of duty above all—duty above love. Above selfishness and lust. 

If anyone is to understand your predicament, it would be the man you were set to weather these storms with. 

Rounding the corner, you pass the in-house glass garden, about to wander towards the bar when you hear the unmistakable sound of someone sniffling. You hide in the shadows, the light of a mock gaslight throwing you into complete anonymity. Only a sliver of light graces the barely-lit hallway where the open door and a sudden, heavy sadness pricks your curiosity. 

There’s a pause. An unsteady breath.

“He’s brought the wedding forward,” you hear the voice murmur, and it strikes you with his deepness—Sukuna’s richness and despair. 

Inching closer towards the parted door, you hear him groan and exude a shuddering breath.

He’s crying. The astonishment doesn’t last, shattered by him cursing under his breath. 

“I can’t marry her. I don’t ever want to marry. I’m not… not the type…” 

He trails off and there’s another shuddering exhale. 

It hits you then that he’s sobbing. 

“Fucking Jiro. He won’t stop until he’s destroyed us. I will never forgive him for what he did to our family. Never in a million years—”

Sukuna breaks off, muffling a keen with what sounded like his palm.

“And Jin, he—” Sukuna curses. “He just fucking agrees with no hesitation? Like this? Fuck!” 

The sound of glass shatters, making you flinch. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t—” He chokes off, and you think this might be it; he’s going to call off the engagement tonight.

“But, what about the merger money?” 

Nothing in the world could prepare you for such a shock. 

Este’s soft voice ripples around you like a bomb that’s just been activated, shaking you so badly you have to cover your mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

“It’s just until the transaction is complete. That’s like, what—? A year? You can be with her for just a year, Ryo. Then, once it’s done—” 

“I’ll divorce her,” Sukuna vows, and shards of pain stab into you with how resolute he sounds.

Like he’s already made up his mind even before giving you the chance to change it.

The wool is lifted from your eyes, and panic settles around you, muffling your every thought, making you sick to the stomach.

What should I do? Do I tell my parents? Do I go on with this? Is this real? Is he just drunk? Why is Este with him? Are they together? Is she conspiring with him? Will he hurt me? Why does he hate my family? What did my father do? What should I do?

What should I do?

a/n. ruh-roh

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story this far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms. and claim as your own

[cowboykento]

cw: orgasm denial, some soft degredation (he calls reader a slut, but fairly lovingly), overstimulation. wc: 1.4k

minors dni or you get blocked.

cowboy!nanami gives the best massages. years of working on the farm have made his hands strong and firm, and really just overall perfect for soothing the knots in your back.

it's so intimate, the way his thumbs press between your shoulders, eliciting a soft, sleepy sigh from your lips.

he can't stand seeing you hunched over the desk in your office, working yourself tirelessly even though you'd left your real office hours ago. he was sure that your posture was likely the same even when you were at work.

sure, he can chide you about sitting up straight and it being good for you, but he can also solve the problem as it is. after a long day from both of you, him on the farm and you at work, it's relaxing for both of you for him to gently rub the knots from your tired back.

"right there, ken," you sigh, a smile lingering on your lips despite the pressure kento is putting into your spine.

"y'gotta start sittin up, pretty. can't have knots like this forming. it's not good for ya," he says, pausing his massage to press a kiss to your spine. his way of sealing the newly-relaxed muscles.

"i know, i know, kento," you reply. "but why would i do that when you treat me so nicely when i don't?"

he lets out a chuckle, returning to your lower back, his lips still ghosting over the back of your neck.

"y'think i wouldn't treat ya like this no matter what? i'd do this for ya even if ya didn't need it, darlin'. just like makin' ya feel good."

you let a moan slip from your lips this time, both from his hands and his words. of course this felt great, but you couldn't help but press your thighs together at the though of nanami making you feel good in other ways.

naturally, kento is quick to pick up on the change in atmosphere. he can see the way you press your legs together and how the pretty sighs and moans leaving your lips have become less subdued.

his hands slide along your waist, "ya want somethin' from me, princess?"

"maybe..." you tease, resting your head back against his chest.

a warm smile breaks on his face, and it reminds you of the sunrise that he's made sure to show you plenty of times.

"gonna have to use yer words then, pretty girl," he replies.

you sigh, "you know what i want, ken. don't tease."

"i do, darlin', but i gotta hear you say it. y'wanna be good for me, don't ya?"

his hands travel down your body, rubbing over your tummy and dancing over the waistband of your shorts. you know he knows exactly what you want and how to give it to you, but you were happy to indulge him, because you really did just want to be good for him.

"please, kento, need you to make me cum."

he grabs your chin, gently turning you so he can press a kiss to your lips.

"now that wasn't so hard, now, was it, princess?" he asks, voice rumbling through his chest. "now spread those pretty legs for me.

you comply at an almost embarrassing speed, so desperate from him from the hours of pent up passion lingering from his massage.

his fingers snake down into your shorts, easily finding your clit and rubbing it gently over your panties, lips glued to the side of your neck.

you let a blissed-out moan escape your lips as he continues playing with you; his touches may be teasing, but they were doing it for you. kento always did, always made sure you felt so good for him.

"such a good girl, aren't ya? just needed me to play with your little pussy, hm? maybe you're not my good girl, maybe you're just a slut," he grins devilishly against your neck.

"hngh, no, i'm your good girl. i'm yours," you reply, desperately rutting your hips up into his hand, chasing just a little bit more friction than he's giving you.

he pinches your clit, "doesn't seem like it, with the way yer humpin' my hand. seems to me like you're being a whore. gotta teach you how to behave, darlin'."

one of his hands holds your hips still while the other picks up its pace, rubbing your clit in earnest now, truly trying to work you to your orgasm.

or so you thought.

you feel the coil in your tummy tense and tighten until it's just about ready to snap, when kento pulls his hand away from you just as you're about to go over the edge.

you let out a defeated cry, "no! no, kento, i was so close, was about to cum!"

he scoffs, flipping you onto your back like you were nothing but a sack of flour.

"you'll take what i give you, sweetness. just lay back and let me make you feel good. that's what you wanted after all, isn't it? y'don't think i can make ya cum?"

"pleease," is all you can manage to get out as kento pulls his own pants down just enough to release his aching cock from its confines.

"you'll cum when i tell ya to, darlin'. that's what ya get for actin' like a desperate little slut," he spits out as he rubs himself through your slick folds a few times, making sure he's plenty slicked up. "don't know why ya gotta act up, darlin'. ya know i'll always make ya cum. just gotta lay back and stop worryin' your pretty little head. y'know i'll take care of ya."

you nod your head frantically, doing everything in your power to get kento to stop being so cruel and just fuck you already. you wanted to grab him and force his lips to yours, giving him no other choice than to get lost in you, but you know that would only garner you more punishment.

eventually, finally he pushes himself into you, drawing loud moans from both of you.

"fuck, darlin', never get any less tight for me. such a perfect pussy, isn't that right? perfect pussy that's all for me. luckiest man in the world, gettin' her all to myself."

you moan at his obscenities---it wasn't often kento talked dirty to you like this, and it made your head spin as he picked up his pace, rutting his hips against yours mercilessly.

you throw your head back against the pillows as he rips every moan and cry out of you. tears spill down your cheeks at some point, partly from how good he was making you feel, partly from the pent-up need from him denying you once already.

"please, please, kento," you cry. "need to cum so bad, please let me, please!"

"fuck, 'm close too, sweetheart," he groans into your lips. "go on, cum for me, fuckin' milk me, baby."

his command is all it takes to finally get that cord to snap, making your vision go white as you convulse with the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body.

kento fucks you through your orgasm, still desperately chasing his own. once you're done shaking, he brings a hand back to your clit, making you cry from the overstimulation.

"no, ken, 's too much! oh fuck, gonna-"

you're cut off by kento's loud groan as he releases inside you, filling you to the absolute brim, rubbing your clit in quick circles as his soul leaves his body.

"please, please cum again for me, baby, need ya," he manages to get out before his wish becomes a reality and you're thrown head first into another bone-shaking orgasm.

you can hardly feel your fingers or toes when you finally come back down. kento pulls out of you with a hiss before laying down next to you, pulling you in against his chest.

you rest your head against his still-heaving chest, listening to his heartbeat as it jumps. you're utterly exhausted and wrecked, but equally blissed-out and floating on cloud 9 with your fiance, who looks at you like you hung the stars in his image.

"love ya so much, sweet pea. sorry if i got a little carried away there," he murmurs, voice much softer now than it had been only moments ago.

you stretch your neck to give him a quick peck against his lips, "no, that was fucking great, ken'. should do that more often."

he raises a brow, hands running lazily along the curve of your wasit, "oh? ya like bein' called a slut?"

you giggle, "if it's you? yes please."

now it's his turn to laugh as he pulls you in a bit closer.

"well, ya know i love ya. i don't actually think any of that, but ya just looked so pretty all desperate for me."

your face heats and you bat your hand against his chest, "love you too, handsome."

cowboy!kento masterlist