#she’s still content with how her life turned out

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- his chap, mentions of sex/getting turned on, Gojo being a cute little nerd, embarssment level a million, this was gonna be a oneshot but... no, don't think it'll happen, so three parts maybe, welcome to part one

Based on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 - Masterlist

Part One

Eight years ago- Satoru Gojo - age eighteen

Satoru Gojo is wearing his finest polo, grinning at his reflection in the mirror, he finally got his braces off, wearing just this clear retainer, which his dentist had even made it Digimon, a little Lucemon embedded in that acrylic, he snaps it in and grins at himself now. He’s looking rather spiffy, if he does say so himself, talking to the mirror now.

“You can do it, just… tell her. Just tell her.” He’s grinning with newly straight teeth, putting on his glasses now so that he can see, spiking up silky white locks just a bit, Satoru singing to that mirror, his favorite song, the one that makes him think of you. “Yeah baby, hah- I know.” He is practicing winking at his reflection, trying to be cool, leaning this way and that.

The song continues, Satoru grabs his hairbrush, singing into the handle like a pro, as he pictures you, snowy lashes fluttering shut, a little grin on his face. He leans against the mirror now, picturing his hands barring you on either side, when he leans to the mirror and presses his lips on the cool glass.

“Oh… you want a kiss, hmm?” He’s whispering, he’s constantly been practicing his first kiss.

You’ll be his first kiss, he’s sure of it!

When his mom knocks on the door, right in the middle of this, he panics, swiping off his own spit from the mirror, shutting off his speaker and clearing his throat as he opens the door, his mom gushing now, hand on her chest. “Oh little Toru, you’re just so precious! Mwah!”

“Mom, stop!” She’s smacking kisses on his cheeks, over and over, relentless in her assault on his face. “I’m not a little kid mom, it’s graduation night!”

“Oh you’ll always be my baby.” He sighs, and she looks over at the pictures now, of Satoru and his best friend - future wife (you don’t know it yet) - decorated along his walls, mixing with various posters and pictures. “Aw, is tonight the night?”

Satoru blushes bright pink, looking back at the pictures, you’re both smiling, laughing, you’re kissing his cheek, hugging him. Shit, last time you kissed his cheek he avoided washing that exact spot, for so long, and once he had you luckily had bestowed another on him. You were his best friend, but…

He wanted more.

You were the most popular girl in the school, everyone just adored you, everyone knew who you were, but Satoru? He had a few friends, you, Nanami, Suguru, Shoko… that was it though, he was overwhelmingly annoying to just about everyone, constantly besting them all academically. He asked for extra credit to the groans of the room, he played Digimon to his heart's content.

He was…

Well, a nerd.

But you loved him how he was, there was a box just full of your little notes saying just that, you defended him against anyone who’d dare say a word, thus Satoru became somewhat popular by association. Moreso, they were terrified of the consequences of being mean to your ‘best friend furr-ever’ as you referred to him.

“You just be yourself, Satoru.” His mom says sweetly, pecking another kiss on his forehead.

He sighs then, frowning. Himself… isn’t who got the girls, no you’re in one break up after another, with football stars, with the popular boys, and Satoru holds you as you cry, as another one doesn’t respect you, doesn’t deserve you. Yet Satoru never, ever told you how he really felt.

He wants to be more.

*****

As Satoru Gojo weaves his way through the insane party later that night, Suguru and Shoko come up, smiling, handing him a red solo cup, he sips it and winces at the taste. “Where is she?” He asks, holding your yearbook you’ve asked him to sign, clutching it for dear life- because it has it all, the confession of his feelings.

“Saw her doing a keg stand over there.” Shoko says, Satoru looks over to see you flipped upside down, people cheering you on.

Suguru pats his friend’s shoulder. “You can do it man, don’t be scared, I’m sure she feels the same.”

“I’m gonna do it.” You are set back down on your feet, when you see him, jumping up and down and running to him, big grin on your face, he holds out an arm for you to cling to him.

“Satoru! You’re here!” You’re bouncing now, just making your tits bounce just so in that little bustier you’re wearing, pulling back and giggling like crazy, the alcohol having rushed to your head. “I’m so happy, ah if you missed it I’d have been so bummed! Come on!”

Satoru eyes his friends, who murmur a ‘good luck’ as you eagerly run up the stairs to your bedroom, the party is of course at your place because your parents are out of town. Satoru passes couples making out in the hallway, dancing all over, kissing on the stairs, as you open your door, glaring now.

“Ah - ah, out!” You shoo away two drunk friends kissing, sighing and shaking your head, leaving the door shut, as Satoru holds his breath. “Jesus, they’re all horned up, huh? My god!” You lay down now, plopping on your pretty white day bed, as Satoru sees just the color of panties you’re wearing, making him blush more, looking away from that pleated skirt.

“I… signed your yearbook.” He murmurs softly, you sit up now, a strap falling from your shoulder, and Satoru starts to feel…

Too much.

He’d been jerking it to you since he knew what that even was, but looking at you now, he had trouble holding back, so he started to blush and stammer, as you tilt your head curiously, legs swinging a bit while you study him. “What’s wrong? Do you need a little air, I can crack open the window!”

You hop up now, bending over to lift your heavy window, the breeze starts filtering in, billowing your pretty curtains, and Satoru has to ignore the reaction of his body, willing his cock to go down. He is shutting his eyes and thinking of anything else, when suddenly you’re cupping his face. He opens pretty blue eyes to look down at you, at the girl he’s been in love with since he was just a kid.

“You alright? Not your scene, is it?” Your voice is soft with understanding, Satoru sets the yearbook down now, his own hands brushing your arms, making you tremble just a bit. “You smell so good. You look so cute! Look at your teeth! Ah, you’re so handsome, yes you are!”

You’re pinching his cheeks, ending any thoughts of maybe kissing you, as you’re cooing over him. “Stop it.”

“Oh…” You pull back, sighing. “Is it too… it’s weird to be so close to you as we get older, isn’t it?” You frown now. “You’re going to freaking Ivy league, god you’re so smart. I’ll be at Community and…”

“What, no not that. I…” He brushes your hair back, or attempts to, only to accidentally poke at your eye.

“Ah, shit ow!”

“Shit, sorry…” He tries then to grip your chin, like he sees in the movies, making your lips purse just like a fish, and he stutters. “Oh my god I… shit I…”

“Satoru, what is wrong? You’re acting so weird.” You are rubbing at your eye now, as your other strap falls, and your tits nearly fall out, making him panic, turning away and covering his face. “What-”

The door opens now, as Sukuna waltzes in, grinning at you. “Sexy, look at those tits.”

“You’re so rude, Sukuna, ugh.” You cover them up quickly, and Sukuna laughs, throwing his head back, eyeing Satoru now.

“Aw, you two are so cute, why don’t you come dance, baby?” You roll your eyes, shoving him out of the room.

“Bye! I am not your baby.”

“I feel bad for you man…” Sukuna mumbles, roughing up Satoru now, hand ruffling up his hair, as Satoru shoves at him.

“Go on Sukuna.”

“Why little buddy!?” He says your name now, as Satoru sets the yearbook on the bed, and Sukuna plops on it, leaning on an elbow. “Wanna watch how to please a woman 101?”

“Sukuna fuck off please.” You’re yanking at the big lug of a man, who just pokes at your breast, grinning. “You’re such a child!”

“C’mere now.” He yanks you on top of him, right in front of Satoru, you heat up at memories of him, your experiences with him were not the reason you broke up, it was more so he was an ass. “I’m sorry I was such a dick, baby. Can’t orgive me? Shouldn’t the captain of the football team be with the head of the cheer squad?”

“No, they shouldn’t, and no pouting. I’m spending time with my friend.” You finally shove him off, springs creaking as his heavy weight leaves, and he snatches up his yearbook now.

“You won’t even sign mine?”

“No way. Out.” Sukuna pecks a kiss on your cheek, earning a smack and Satoru’s glare behind his tortoiseshell glasses.

“Shit, man.” Sukuna wraps an arm around Satoru’s narrow shoulders, huge in comparison, as Satoru grimaces. “Friend zone is a bitch.” You blink in confusion, shaking your head.

“Friend what now? Go on, we’re talking!” You shove him out of the room finally, sighing as you see Satoru clutching that year book, the music still vibrating through the room, quieter now. “What’s he mean?”

“How would I know? Sukuna’s not exactly a friend.” He rolls his eyes, and you giggle a bit.

“Yeah, he’s kind of a dick.”

“Just kind of? Why’d you date him.”

“Well… he’s also hot?” Satoru rolls his eyes again, as your cheeks heat up, covering your laughter with your hand. “Sorry, let me see this.”

You snatch up his burgundy and black yearbook, and Satoru’s heart races in his chest, eyeing your room nervously, when you sit on the bed with your legs crossed, flipping open the glossy pages now. Satoru hears laughter then, nearly breaking his heart, his eyes shut as his fingers brush along one of your stuffed animals, he was an idiot, right, no way you could feel the same.

“Satoru what’s this - had a badass time banging you in the ‘vette, baby!??! Is this a joke like…” He panics then, eyes wide open, snatching the yearbook from your hands, cursing now.

“Shit this is Sukuna’s… Oh no…”

“Oh, no big deal. Oh, Satoru, I haven’t given you that gift!” Satoru’s sweating now, he can’t handle anyone ever seeing what he wrote but you, surely Sukuna is too drunk to notice, right? “Here, do you love it!?”

It’s a bright pink shirt, you hold up two of them in different sizes, embossed pictures of the two of you sipping on milkshakes, with little cat bodies. “What the… what?”

“You’re the white cat, and look I gave him shades!” You’re bouncing up and down again, yanking the shirt over your head, revealing just your bra, making Satoru’s eyes nearly bug out as he sees your breasts damn near.

“Stop, shit…”

“I’m stuck!” You’re laughing, breathless, when he tugs the shirt down now, so close your breath catches. You bury your head against his chest, the soft silk of his polo against your skin. “You saved me!”

“Always.” His soft words have more meaning than you know, as you slip his shirt off now, blushing as you see his body, more defined and cut than you expected, he’d definitely gained some muscle this year it seemed.

“Damn, look at you, all cut huh? Hottest bestie ever!” Your words make him stutter, then you’ve slipped the matching shirt, he stares at it in the mirror with horror filled eyes. “Besties furr-ever! God you look so cute, Satoru, let's take a picture, we’ll show our moms!”

Satoru grimaces then, as the realization hits. “Oh god…”

Friend Zone.

He was stuck in the friend zone.

Furr ever.

Then he hears it, laughter down the halls, you rush after him when he runs out, and there Sukuna is at the top of the stairs overlooking the partygoers all around the house, reading it out loud. Sukuna and everyone sees Satoru then, in that bright pink shirt with dumb fucking kittens, pointing at him and laughing as you walk out, crossing your arms.

“Hey now! Stop it! Everyone can go, I swear!”

“Wait, wait, you should hear this. ‘When it’s me and you, it’s like our own little perfect world, just Satoru and-’ You listen as Sukuna reads off it in horror, as Satoru begins to shove at Sukuna, and he keeps holding it higher, laughing. “I love you so much, you’re so special to me, you-”

“Give it back!” Satoru shoves a drunk Sukuna out of the way finally, making the big man in his letterman’s jacket stumble, as you blink in confusion, words you never expected from him, hitting so hard.

It couldn’t be.

Satoru and you were so close all these years, and not once had you even had an inkling. “Satoru…”

“No.” He runs down the stairs, yanking off the kitten shirt, leaving him bare, as everyone sings the song lyrics he’d written in your yearbook, making kissy faces as you yell at them all. “Fuck this town.”

“Satoru!” Shoko and Suguru come out front with you, as he kicks on the pedal of his bike, and you’re rushing. “Stop, please.”

“No, I’m done, with everyone here. Fuck you all.” They’re still making obscene gestures, earning your scowl, as Sukuna and the other jocks just grow louder.

“Leave him alone! Satoru, don’t go, I’ll send them all home.” You’re touching his chest now, making him falter, embarrassment pouring in.

“No, you’re popular, right?” His words hurt suddenly, you pull back as if they wound you. “You’re always popular, and I’m not.”

“You’re my best friend, who cares what they think of you? I know you’re amazing.” Your eyes fill with tears now, but Satoru’s embarrassment has taken over, they’re all spread across your front yard making kissy faces, chanting ‘friend zone friend zone friend zone’ “God don’t listen. They’re stupid!”

“No, I’m stupid, I can’t wait to leave this town, and never come back.” You’re crying more now, shaking your head.

“Please, we can… go somewhere, like we used to. I want to know… is what you said in the yearbook…”

“No, it’s… it was a joke. Okay?” You sniffle now more, and Satoru hops back on his bike. “You’re all a joke! Gonna be burnouts, and watch me get… so famous!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Sukuna earns Satoru’s flipping him off, shocking the crowd, the quiet nerd had never been this way. He takes one last look at you, brows together, lips trembling.

You’d never like him anyway.

“I’m gone, and not looking back.” He rides off, hearing you shouting his name, hearing the laughter, his couple friends also trying to get his attention. You blow up his cell phone all night, all week, fuck all summer, his facebook, shit you call his damn mother, but Satoru leaves.

He leaves and never looks back.

*****

Present day- Satoru Gojo- age twenty six

It’s a bustling party, spring break is here and what place is better than Hollywood, really? Satoru is the most famous up and coming model there is, and he may or may not also be a complete whore of a man. He’s in a three piece Givenchy suit, sipping a martini and winking at a sexy waitress, who blushes immediately, earning the glare of the girl he’s with.

“This is what I mean! You only care about sex!” Satoru snorts now, as the eyes of the party start peering curiously.

“Didn’t I have you cumming like ten times this morning?” He murmurs, tilting her chin up, she falters a bit, lips parting for a moment. “That’s what I thought, sweets, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

He’s grinning brightly down at her, a beautiful model in her own right, but women were… easy, easy to get, fuck they flocked to him, and he just kept one major rule about them all. Never, ever, become their friend, he could not handle the heartbreak eight years ago, the girl who he never spoke to again, fuck you’d never recognize him now, would you?

“I do, of course but… I want something more serious.” Satoru pouts.

“That’s a shame, we were having so much fun, Michelle.”

“That’s not even my name, ugh! It’s Marie! How-”

She’s freaking out now, he must have got her confused with his other hook up, he just watches her with cold blue eyes, tapping an olive into his mouth and nodding, pretending to care. It’s just sex, but Satoru loves to fuck, he loves watching women cum for him, screaming his name, something the boy with pink kitten shirts, glasses and a retainer couldn’t dream of.

He wasn’t a skinny nerd now, he was buff, he was sought after, he bets now you’d fold for him too, but he never visited home again to find out either way. He flew his mom and friends out to Hollywood instead, the taste of the little town left in his mouth far, far too disgusting, but of course he wonders about you, but he’s never managed to find out, to ask.

Satoru shakes off the thoughts of you, realizing another girl has walked up, and she’s yelling now too. “What’s wrong with you? Who are you?” He asks curiously, making her mouth drop open, arms crossing under her breasts.

“You don’t even remember me!?” The blonde girl asks.

“Michelle?”

“No, I’m Britney! Who is Michelle!?” Satoru curses, he thinks he remembers fucking Britney in a bathroom stall, but he’s not sure.

“Um… I think I’m gonna go.” He pats their shoulders, grinning with those bright white teeth. “I have places to be, ladies.”

Satoru earns two smacks, wincing and touching his cheeks, as his friend snorts in laughter next to him. “You’re such an ass, Gojo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shit…” His phone keeps ringing, and soon he sees it, his manager won’t stop calling. “What is it?”

“Satoru, you have connections back in New Hampshire, right?” Satoru frowns now, he never ever wants to think of his hometown again.

“Why?” He leans on the bar, as he gets another martini, winking at the bartender who can’t keep her eyes off him.

“An ideal slot for an impromptu show, and you’ll be the star! You can book a trip this week right?”

“No!”

“What do you mean no? It’s perfect, the hometown boy got famous, they’ll eat it up, money in our pockets.” Satoru’s panicking now, visions swirling in his mind, of leaving you that night.

Should he have stayed?

No way, he’ll never be in that ‘friend zone’ again, looking like an idiot. Let him go back, show them all what he’s become. “You know what… fuck it, I can.”

“That’s my Star. Alright, booking tickets!” Satoru hangs up the phone, thinking of you suddenly… surely you were long gone.

Just how were you?

Why did he care?

That life was long, long gone. He eyes the pretty bartender now, tapping his martini glass, blue eyes dipping low. “Guess I’m visiting my hometown.”

“Oh yeah, where from?” She asks softly, and he smirks, as she shakes the martini up.

“Small town, middle of nowhere. You watched me get slapped and did nothing, by the way!” She giggles.

“You look like you deserved it.” Satoru sighs, giving her the cutest pout, as she leans over, but instead of even being attracted, you’re swirling all through his damn mind, one phone call and…

He couldn’t get the memory of you to leave.

Did you look the same, were you married with kids like you always wanted, or did you have a career, did you ever end up teaching? That was your dreams, small dreams to him, but to you they had been everything. He keeps hoping the money, fame and women will fill this gaping hole you left, and he supposes he can pretend that it did, but it’s gnawing it’s way open in his chest.

He sighs, as the music fades, and his ears rush with blood, remembering you that night, so vivid it’s like you’re there, and he has to blink, to focus on the bustling, expensive party surrounding him. He contemplates it then, what would Nerd Gojo think of himself now?

“Maybe I did.” He mumbles, when he’s back home, preparing for the trip, packing his finest outfits in a Gucci suitcase, he stumbles upon that one picture of you and him that he kept then, touching it gently, withered a bit with age, with time.

He whispers your name, before shoving it deep in the suitcase and closing it, laying back on his bed.

The ‘nerd’ Gojo they knew was gone.

He was a fucking model now, he fucked models for fun, he was filthy fucking rich, and he’d show them all, right?

But… what about you, the girl who always treated him so sweet, the one he has to swallow down emotions thinking of the memory.

What about you?

Next part- Satoru comes home!! And you just so happen to be there, what will you think of the changes Satoru has made? Gonna be a lil emotional, mostly fun and sweet!!! Satoru gonna be an ass but it's okay he'll learn lol.

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

[zyafics]

CUTS AND SCARS | Sukuna Ryomen

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing — Boxer! Sukuna x Wife!Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — Sukuna comes home after a long boxing match to find you waiting for him. Kinda.

Word Count — 0.6K

Content — fluff, pure fluff.

After a fight, the first thing Sukuna does was check on you.

You don’t attend his fights. Blood scares you. The way Sukuna fights scares you. He pummels and delivers each bone-shattering blow to his opponents with no mercy, spilling gore on the ring. It contrasts the man he is with you at home—the gentle, domesticated husband that can barely stand to see you hurt.

Because of this, he never asks you to.

You’d rather stay home, with your daughter, waiting for him. Usually, after the post-round interviews, Sukuna heads straight to the estate, greeting you with a bloodied grin before claiming his prize with a kiss.

But this time, the interviews went longer. His coach pulled him to the side. By the time he comes home, you’re asleep.

“Papa!” Your daughter beams upon his entrance, her small feet pattering across the large foyer to reach her father. Sukuna’s tense shoulders soften, reaching down to pick up his daughter with one arm, her small hands reaching for his face.

“What are you doing up this late, brat?” He asks, as she giggles under his rough authority. His heart thumps, his little girl’s fingers the cuts made by his opponent, his jaw tightens at the sting of pain. But he doesn’t push her away—he never does.

“Mama’s asleep,” she explains. That must be why she’s not in bed, tucked away in her bassinet. His daughter deviously taking advantage of the moment. She must’ve learned it from him.

“Is she now?” Sukuna asks, his eyes searching across the house. But he doesn’t find you—not yet, anyways. After tucking his daughter away in bed, Sukuna returns to the living room to find you snuggled on the couch, the blinking screen of the television still playing. A replay of his fight on broadcast.

Sukuna turns off the screen. He settles down at your feet, the cushion dipping to accommodate his weight. You’re sleeping on your side, with your hands tucked under your head and a soft, steady breathing rhythm. You look calm, at peace, the sparkling of your diamond wedding ring grazes against your forehead.

He takes it all in. Sometimes, he can’t believe you’re his.

That he’s lucky enough to have this life with you.

His hand lands on your waist, and you adjust—feeling his touch and leaning towards it. Sukuna leans forward, his mouth against your cheek, and he mumbles, “My love?”

You stir. Sukuna squeezes the soft flesh of your waist as your eyes blink, a yawn escaping your lips. You think you’re dreaming. “You’re home?”

“Just got back,” Sukuna brushes the strand of your hair out of your face. “Waiting for me?”

You nod sleepily, “You took so long, I fell asleep.” Your hand reaches for the cut on his face, the split of skin, and a small hiss leaves you lips as if it pains you to see him hurt. “How was the fight?”

“Got a KO in the eight round,” Sukuna explains, grabbing your hand away and kissing your knuckles.

A small smile lifts on your face. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You prop yourself up by the elbow, meeting his level. “Want to go another round?” Your eyes wrinkle in mischief.

Sukuna huffs. “Tempting me?”

“Is it working?”

Always with you.

Without another word, Sukuna lifts you in his arms and carries you to the bedroom. With your laugh echoing the chambers of your estate, and his whole life in his arms, he can’t remember a time where everything is this perfect. He has you, your daughter, and the world within reach.

It’s all he ever wants.

All he’ll ever need.

[sangunary]

Vengeance !

Yandere Batfam × Catgirl Reader.

SYPNOSIS: When Selina kitten decided to avenge her by using birds.

IMP: Batman's a jerk, Reader doesn't have any feelings for any of the Robin, Damian isn't included Because he's a minor in this Au.

WARNING: mentioned of sex, no direct smut, gore, manipulation, cheating?.

Selina was known for working alone and being quite efficiency in her work line, no floundering and not having to worry about anyone else but her. But in the end she ended up picking a stray cat into her arms to raise her with warmth and love, something she yearn for.

Astonishingly her new found subject of affection turned out to be a better version of her. Their voice was loud and sharp, their claws were always ready to spill some blood, their fangs were sharp enough to dig into any man's throat and she wasn't interested in love. Unlike her when she was youthful.

Selina have her fair share of 'lovers' and one being the batman himself. She was young and foolish, too much ecstacy in her eyes to notice that he was using her feelings to stop her from persuing her only passion .

She was willing and he took advantage of her heart. He promised her forever yet he couldn't keep any promise. Selina let herself loose just to be dump by him, she gave him her life and he gave her nothing.

You knew her pain and you devoted your life just to ruin the same man who ruin her. Afterall she gave you life when life itself rejected you.

The first Robin you trapped between your fingers was Dick Grayson. He was young and stupid, you gave him false hope let him loose just to pull him back.

It didn't take long for the young boy to fall into your sweet lies.

the clear evidence being that he was still wrapped around your fingers when he was now known as Nightwing.

He was more touchy and affectionate. He was like a bee and you were his nectar, he would always come back he can't resist you, and he knew that.

He get sulky and even extremely violent if you don't give him your time, he was never violent with you but to others? He was deadly, he was willing to break batman's rules as long as you promised to give him forever.

He was a needy man, always touching your every curve and kissing you every moment of the day. Holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

His eyes scream devotion to you but you didn't feel contented at all. His word never sink deep into your heart and the night you spent with him was nothing but a night of faking it.

No matter how many times he make you scream his name or the enormous number of scratch mark on his back or the love bite he left. Lust was just a temporary moment for you.

You knew you could never commit to anyone not even to him. He was perfect in a sense that you absolutely despite him. The only redeeming quality was that he was so willing, even if he rejected he would always do as you say.

He was an easy man, he just needs you. The idle partner who was full of love and what not. You were just too tempting and he would absolutely sin inside a church for you.

Dick hands met your waist as he pull you closer ignoring his current mission, you were just to tempting tonight.

His lip was everywhere as he whimper nothing but devotion coated in honey. Their current mission was to stop Selina from stealing an important painting from the museum.

Dick was supposed to prevent that but you came along and you pulled him away from the camera view, although wouldn't mind giving a show for the camera.

It had been too long since he got to kiss or have you in his arms. You've been ignoring him for a reason and seeing you so dolled up just for him... He forgot why he was even mad at you.

You didn't disappoint him, he was just too into the moment that he didn't realise you've taken his only way to snap out of the moment. His communication device.

You tuck it into your pocket as you let his hand's wander letting lust win and left after Selina have taken what she wanted.

Leaving him needy and restless, making him vulnerable for your next encounter..

Another bird you shot down was Jason Todd the second Robin.

He was a tricky bird. Yet who knew all it took was some understanding and he would gladly lay in your lap like a cat.

It was ridiculous. Jason was tough and mentally? he was unstable, your relationship with him was truly toxic yet you always find a way to reel him back into your arms.

Your main weapon was just to open your arms and he would glady embrace your warmth. He acted as if you were his only place of comfort... You were.

Without your warmth he couldn't bare to hold his frustration back, but in your arms he felt as if he was just a boy, when he didn't have to worry about life deceiving him or being forgotten about. He was Jason Todd in your arms.

But for you being embrace by him felt suffocating. You could tell he loves you just from his embrace but you felt a sense of itching inside your skin crawling around freely, mocking you for taking advantage of a poor boy.

Jason wasn't a person you could deny, he was possessive and full of jealousy. He didn't like any attention on you something you yearn for. He wasn't afraid to shead blood.

You found it out the most gruesome way. It was late and you weren't even supposed to be near crime alley but you have a feeling that Jason might need you.

When you turn a coner you discovered a brutal scene. Jason standing tall as the poor hero body lump on the ground beaten to plum, you could make out pieces of flesh in a clump, blood still seeping from the half dead man.

The same man who have flirted with you.. Was now unrecognisable, the sound of him moaning in pain was low yet very clear.

The poor hero jaw was broken it's bone peaking out mix with torn flesh, you could see his teeth from your current location.

Jason was holding a crobar, his face smudge with crimson blood, the crowbar was dripping red one could not recognise it's orginal colour.

Finally Jason notice your presence walks towards you and pull you into his arms. He was much taller and you felt as he cover your whole body.

He whispered nothing but sick fantasy as he kissed you, reassuring you that no one will take you from him.

You could smell nicotine and rotten blood from him, you felt disgusted your stomach contorted, yet you hug back. Reassuring him.

He was too important, he was too far gone. You were in no place to not continue your lie of love for him.

He wouldn't listen even if you did tell him the truth, he was stubborn as kid and as violent as a kid. But he was no kid in the brain.

He was very calculated you fear he might know your true intention and is only playing his part to fool you.

Yet, his embrace felt somewhat alluring for you, you couldn't tell if it was the sleepiness or the extreme violent that make you feel this way. It was a temporary comfort eitherway.

The bird that willing eat the poison was Tim Drake.

He was the most intelligent yes, but one thing no one could beat you at was bringing false comfort.

You praise him daily, you tried to seduces him but he was just too shy unlike Dick. He wasn't broken unlike Jason he only needed someone who was alike.

You listen to his long session of talking about his new investigation even help him, which was an honest mistake.

Now the boy won't stop opening his mouth about any new investigation thinking you're super into it.

Another way you captured him was by simply manipulating him.

Making him compared himself to the rest by making him jealous and suddenly you gave him all the right praise and warmth.

He wasn't as charming and loved as Dick. He wasn't strong and confident like Jason. Unlike them he was just a normal person who takes the highway for the fun of it.

He felt insecure and you appear. Kissing his self doubts away, clearing his mind and giving him a piece of heaven: a place he can finally rest.

Tim was hard to control, he knew your social account and any online life you have was now an open book to him.

Reading your text or spying on you through your own lense was a common occurrence, did he care that he was invading your personal space? No.

Was asking you about your following and asking you to block certain people was okay? No. But it was for your sake, he wasn't trying to isolate you.

He was keeping you safe from the world. He didn't have much to cherish but you. Oh not even God could take you from his hands.

But the moment you held his hand's, he wasn't the shy boy everybody assume he was. He was quick and smart about his move.

Unlike Jason who was calculated in a more menacing way Tim was calculated in a way that his desire could be achieved fast.

He did his research kissing you at all the right place saying his so called right word to turn a woman on. Helpless and desperate he was but no one could blame him.

Although he tried to be calculated sometimes you just have that affect so strong it's hard for him to think straight.

He was the piece you needed inorder to get any information for Selina. He wasn't hard to melt you just have to put him right at the moment and he'll melt just by your glance.

Tim hands were right on your thighs, he was supposed to be patrolling but you spend him some message talking about how you needed help.

Him being the good person he was run straight into your trap willingly.

You ran your hand through his hair as you kiss his cheek leaving a stain of lipstick on its trail.

His face nuzzle on your neck living soft and sloppy kisses everywhere, enjoying the moment.

He spill everything you needed to know right there and even saying more while singing praise of you.

Selina was proud of you, you caught three birds without a fuzz. they were now permanently stuck addicted to your sweet nectar only you can supply.

She couldn't understand how you did it so effortlessly.

Dick was the oldest, he was the one who makes everything less painful for every member of the family without him... It won't last long.

Jason was the son Batman failed. If you managed to stray him afar he could possibly stab Bruce heart with his word's and actions. It's wasn't hard to lead a bird to a new nest.

Tim was intelligent and an important member, he was the bird Bruce nurture without much difficulty. Bruce heart would be so broken if he realised his son was willingly telling information about their families to a wild cat.

They were the perfect piece for your mother's revenge.

But catching bird's come with an awful price.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Fault Lines Ch. 3

request: wanted to know if you could write something where the reader is a ex-winter solider (just like bucky, but maybe she doesn't lose her arm) and how she struggles to accept Joaquin. An overall angst to fluff.

pairing: joaquin torres x ex super soldier!f!reader

contents: canon typical violence, illusions to abuse and torture, ptsd and other mental illness, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff if you squint!!!

wc: 1,996

an: there’s some fluff!!! some yearning!!!! it’s happeninggg!!!!!

fault lines masterlist

The inside of the jet is dimly lit, the loud hum of the engines filling the space between you, Sam, and Joaquin. The mission is set, coordinates have been punched in. All there’s left to do is wait for the doors to open.

You sit near the back, arms crossed, your gaze fixed out the window like you can see more than just clouds and endless sky. Your mind swirls with possibilities, some short and to the point while others require a sickness you’re trying to out run. A thirst for blood you no longer let yourself verbalize.

You’re tense, even as you try not to show it. Joaquin can see it in the way your fingers drum against your bicep, the way your shoulders stay squared, like you’re bracing for a hit.

Sam watches you from across the aisle, his face schooled into something undetectable to someone that didn’t know him. But, Joaquin knows that look. It’s the one Sam gets when he’s deciding whether someone is an ally or a problem he’ll have to deal with later.

Joaquin’s been on the receiving end of that stare before. It’s not fun.

“You mind, I don’t know, telling us where we’re headed?” Sam finally asks. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it. He’s been patient, but that patience is wearing thin.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you shift, finally turning your attention from the window to glance between them. If you have doubts about sharing, you don’t let them show.

“There’s a compound in those mountains I showed you,” you say. “Off-grid. Any records are by hand, there’s no digital footprint. Hydra’s been using it for years.”

Sam frowns, exchanging a look with Joaquin before turning back to you. “And you know this how?”

“You really have to ask?” You lean back, stretching out like you’re settling in for a conversation neither of them will like. “Because I’ve been there.”

Joaquin studies you carefully. He doesn’t miss the way your voice flattens or the way your jaw tenses just slightly, like the words taste bitter.

Sam looks at you with skepticism. “So, what? You escaped?”

Joaquin expects you to dodge the question. To roll your eyes, make some sarcastic comment, deflect like you have before. But you don’t.

You just hold Sam’s stare, expression indistinct, and say, “They thought they snuffed out anything in me that could oppose them. They were wrong.”

An eerie silence settles between the three of you.

Joaquin feels it in his chest, the weight of what you aren’t saying. He doesn’t ask more questions and he doesn’t have to. Whatever happened to you at that compound, it was bad enough to turn you into the person sitting in front of him now—one who doesn’t trust easily, one who’s convinced that their way is the only way.

Who would choose that life when it was so dangerous and unpredictable? So lonely?

Sam leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You know we’re probably walking into a trap, right? They know someone is coming, they’ll be prepared.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth; it's cruel. “Of course we are. But their version of prepared is generally…mediocre.”

Joaquin shakes his head. “And yet, you’re still willing to go back? What if that’s changed?”

Your smirk fades, and you grow defensive. “I don’t have a choice. I can do this with or without you. Regardless, it gets done.”

Joaquin studies you, watching the way your fingers tighten around your arm. He’s seen this before—different faces, different stories, but the same weight pressing down on someone’s shoulders. The same need to see something through, no matter the cost.

He glances at Sam, sees that his friend is thinking the same thing. This mission isn’t just business for you. It’s personal, making it dangerous.

Sam exhales, leaning back with a sigh. “We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some rest.”

You don’t comment, but Joaquin doubts you’ll actually sleep. Neither will he, not with how worried he is about you. He settles in for the long flight, keeping his eyes on you as the jet cuts through the sky.

—

The three of you know that it’s a trap the moment you touch terf. There are no birds chirping, no other detectable wildlife. There’s more snow here, but it doesn’t bother you— the weather never does. Not with what’s been done to you. Joaquin and Sam take turns fighting shivers.

The compound is too quiet, the guards too easily evaded. You lead the way, your movements sharp and precise, like you’ve memorized every inch of this place. Joaquin thinks that maybe you have.

He and Sam follow you closely, moving in tandem as you navigate through the poorly lit halls. The plan is simple: get in, secure the target, get out. But, plans never survive first contact.

With Joaquin’s specter-scanner you all find a gang of them in a control room near the back along with one of Hydra’s last remaining heads. The one you were hoping for if his attire is any indicator. It will take effort to get him with the dozen guards, weapons raised, eyes cold.

The second the three of you breach the doorway, the room erupts into utter chaos.

Gunfire cracks through the air. Joaquin moves on instinct, taking cover behind a console, returning fire as Sam pushes forward, his shield deflecting rounds with ease.

You don’t hesitate, at least not at first. No cover and no concern you bulldoze along side Sam. You’re a storm, striking fast and hard, taking down Hydra agents with ruthless precision. There are only a few left to incapacitate when it happens…

The target speaks, and you feel your muscles lock up as if under a spell. He hasn’t even said the trigger words but just the cadence of his voice is enough to bring back the sourly sick feeling of death inside you.

His voice is one you shouldn’t recognize, but do. It’s one you thought you were safe from hearing.

You completely freeze under the weight of his voice. Joaquin sees it happen, sees the fear pool in your eyes before you go still.

A Hydra agent moves in on you, taking your pause as an opportunity to raise his gun at you.

Joaquin doesn’t think, he simply moves like it’s second nature.

He throws himself toward you, tackling you out of the way as the bullet rips through the air where you were just standing. The two of you hit the ground hard, his body covering yours as another round embeds itself in the floor beside your head.

“Snap out of it,” he grits out, his voice urgent. “You’re here, you’re safe. You’re with me.”

You blink, eyes refocusing on him. You take him in; a stray hair falling into his face, the slope of his nose, the warmth of his body on yours.

“Querida. Here and now,” he urges above you.

And just like that, the moment is over. You shove him off, rolling back onto your feet.

Sam’s already taken down most of the guards, but the target is gone, slipping through a back exit. By the time you reach the door, the compound is on full lockdown. The mission is blown.

There’s no choice but to retreat.

Joaquin grabs your wrist, pulling you after him as the three of you escape into the woods, the distant sound of alarms still ringing in his ears.

—

The safe house feels smaller than it did just the day before.

Sam is outside again, pacing as he makes calls, his voice low but sharp. You and Joaquin are inside, sitting on opposite sides of the room but it feels like you’re on top of each other. The silence between you is as thick as the weight pressing on your chest.

Joaquin is watching you. He has been since he got you back on the plane.

You’re not sure what you hate more—the fact that you froze during the mission or the fact that he noticed. You can still feel the warmth of his fingertips wrapped around your wrist, feel the weight of his body on top of your when he saved you from the bullet. You hate it.

“Go ahead,” you mutter, voice flat. “Say what you want to say.”

Joaquin exhales, leaning back in his chair. “Alright. You hesitated back there, and it almost got you killed.”

Your fingers twitch. You knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. “Thanks for the recap, baby bird,” you say sourly.

“I’m serious,” Joaquin pushes. “That wasn’t just random hesitation. It was something else.”

You glare at him. “Drop it.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

Your jaw tightens. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Joaquin shakes his head. “I want to understand. Because you’re the one who keeps saying we don’t get it. So make me get it.”

You stand abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room. Your hands are shaking. You shove them into your pockets, willing them to stop, willing it all to stop.

Joaquin stays where he is, but his voice softens. “I saw your face when you heard him. It wasn’t shock, not on its own. You recognized the guy. Who is he?”

You turn, meeting his gaze. “I could never forget him,” you admit. “Because he made me. Made me this…this fucked up piece of machinery. Only fires right when those damn words are said and it’s not even for good. He made me a monster so sorry if I hesitated in the face of my bastardized god.”

Joaquin goes still, regretting his line of questioning. You’ve only talked this much when you’re the right mix of angry and afraid. If he could have his way, you’d never feel either ever again.

You let out a breath, forcing yourself to keep talking.

“I thought he was dead,” you say. “I thought we were going in for his second in command. But he’s still out there. And if he’s still out there, that means there’s more. That means—” your voice breaks and you stop.

Joaquin doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t push. He just waits.And for some reason, that makes it worse because you’re used to people giving orders. You’re used to expectations. No choice, no autonomy, no voice. But this—someone just listening—it’s unfamiliar. It’s terrifying.

You look away, gathering yourself once more. “I spent years turning myself into a weapon to get away from them. And tonight, for the first time, I felt like I was right back there. Like nothing I did mattered.”

Joaquin watches you for a long moment, then stands. You tense, but he doesn’t move toward you.Instead, he grabs a med kit off the table and tosses it onto the cot beside you.

You frown, confused. “What’s this for?”

“You took a hit,” he says. “Figured you’d rather patch it up yourself than let me do it.”

You glance down at your arm—sure enough, there’s a gash along your bicep, the fabric of your sleeve torn. You hadn’t even noticed.

Sitting down you open the med kit and get started taking care of yourself. As you learning, Joaquin is observant and often right— you don’t want him to do it for you. You aren’t sure you could handle someone’s gentle, caring touch.

Joaquin doesn’t leave, he just sits back down across from you, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re wrong, you know.”

You glance up. “About what?”

“About nothing you did mattering.” His voice is quiet but certain. “You made it out. You’re still fighting. That means something.”

You don’t respond right away. You’re not sure you can. Once again, Joaquin doesn’t push for an answer. He gives you space to say something or nothing.

Since escaping Hydra captivity you feel like no matter what choice you make, it might all be okay.

lmk if you’d like to be on the sfw joaquin torres taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm

> ch. 4

[bluebutterflytattooed]

Loser Lesbian Ellie x Mean Girl Reader

CHAPTER SEVEN

HEY warnings for this chapter: minor nsfw content (just making out, but heated)

Your heart has stopped, you’re sure of it. Time, your heart, your thoughts, it’s all stopped. You stare at Ellie in shock and terror as she sits up, no longer leaning on your shoulder. She was not supposed to hear you confess your little crush, much less respond to you. Your face has turned not red, but white as a sheet.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Yeah, but I kinda did hear it?” Ellie says, grinning her stupid, dopey smile. She looks half asleep still, but her eyes are alight with excitement.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You mutter under your breath. “I’m so fucked. Ellie, why the hell would you like me? I’ve done nothing but fucking torture you for years. This makes no sense!” It truly doesn’t. You have done nothing that would make Ellie feel affectionate towards you. Other than laying on her couch in her clothing. “This is senseless!” You throw your arms into the air before slumping against the couch and hiding your face in your hands.

“It’s not senseless,” For one of the first times ever, Ellie’s voice is clear and sure. “I’ve liked you since middle school, Y/N. Cause, well, you’re really beautiful but that’s obvious to everyone around you. You have a nice voice, even when you call me names, and you have this smell and it makes you seem edible or something. I remember in Seventh grade English class when you would read your poetry out loud and it was so good! The way you put words together is so, so cool. You can act, and make funny jokes, and your outfits are really well put together in my opinion. And my dog likes you. Which means that you’re perfect. I want to know you more, but I haven’t really been able to do that since you’re a little bit mean. But that’s okay, you’re kinda getting over it.” At the end of the confession of Ellie’s love for you, her face is red and she’s breathless, gazing at you with obsessed, anxious, greenish-blue puppy-dog eyes. Her tongue is playing with the silver hoop around her lip, and it’s all the most adorable, attractive, insane thing you’ve seen in your whole life. You’ve bullied her for years and she thinks you’re funny? She must have Stockholm syndrome or something.

“Ellie, I…” For one of the only times ever, you find yourself speechless, at a loss for words.

“It’s okay if you don’t like me as much as I like you, but I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re on my mind all the time, and Dina seriously wants to kill me ‘cause of how much I talk about you. I’ve just got this huge crush on you,” She laughs at herself a bit before playing with the tongue piercing again.

You just stare at her for what feels like an hour, before you open your mouth and speak. “I can’t stop thinking about you either. I guess I’ve always thought I hated you and thought you were weird, but really, you’re very interesting and talented and I don’t hate you at all, I never could-” You don’t get to finish your sentence before Ellie grasps your head and pulls you towards her, her thin fingers on either side of your face. All of a sudden, your lips are pressed together in a soft kiss, your eyes drifting shut as you lean into her. Her lips are smoother than you thought they’d be, as you always assumed they’d be chapped. The cold metal of the lip ring is a shock to you, but you do find it a somewhat attractive look on her. She’s not a bad kisser, not at all. She’s obviously had experience.

Just as quickly as it began, it ends. Ellie pulls away from you quickly, looking shocked and surprised that she had the confidence to do that. Her eyes are wide, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, but you just want more. Crave more, it’s as if you’ve been waiting to kiss her for years.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even ask or anything which was-” This time, you grab her and crash against her in a kiss much messier than the first, full of tongue and teeth and gasping. You bite down on her bottom lip, drawing a little noise, almost a whine, from her mouth right into yours. Her tongue runs against yours, pressing and tangling and licking into your mouth. Your hands curl into her hair, one of them holding onto her stupid bun, as you settle yourself onto Ellie’s lap and become closer to her than you were ever supposed to be. Breasts are pressed against each other, feeling as you both breath heavily, and your legs bracket her body. Ellie’s heart is beating so fast it might explode.

She’s never kissed someone like this before. She kissed Dina when they were younger, but this is much different. It’s full of want and need and hunger, like she could eat you alive.

Ellie smells good, and she tastes better, like cinnamon and also chocolate chip cookies. You gasp against her lips as she wraps her hands around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to her. You almost let out a moan as your cunt presses against the thick material of her jeans, your legs spread around her making it that much easier for the pressure to send a wave of pleasure through you. Ellie pulls away from the kiss, her eyes hooded and glazed over, as if she’s drunk from the feel of your lips against hers.

“You’re so pretty,” She gasps breathlessly before pressing a few tentative kisses against your neck. After the first few, it’s as if something in her snaps, causing her to bite and suck at the delicate skin there like a madwoman. The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and moaning, Ellie discovering that the more she sucks, the louder you become. You’ve always loved neck kisses, what can you say? The girl under you takes great pleasure in the fact that she’s the one making those noises fall from your lips, that you’re on top of her and you’re loving it. She’s never been more satisfied and proud of herself.

Your hips begin to move, rocking back and forth as you grind onto Ellie’s lap. This causes a break in the assault on your neck as Ellie gazes at you in surprise. “Fuck,” She wheezes before going back to your neck. Your hands travel under her emo-looking band t-shirt that’s been worn thin from years of ownership. She freezes at the feeling of your hands against her back, but leans into it as she realizes Oh my god. Y/N’s hands are in my shirt. Your thumbs rub against the band of her sports bra, and it doesn’t surprise you at all that Ellie wears a sports bra. It just makes so much sense.

Ellie’s head falls back as your hands suddenly break under the bra and move to cup her small breasts. A broken gasp leaves her lips as you bring your mouth down to her neck, the gasp followed by little whines and whimpers. “Mm- fuck, Y/N,” She whines as you kiss her neck, then sink your teeth into the skin the slightest bit, licking over the bite to sooth it. You smile against her skin. This is probably the best makeout session of your life, which is saying something since you used to have a thing with fucking Abby Anderson. But Ellie is something entirely different, she’s willing to give up control, do anything to make you happy. Her hips tilt up ever so slightly, seeking friction as you roll her hard nipple between the pads of your fingers, drawing out another whimper. She’s reactive to everything you do, every kiss, pull, bite, and pinch. She loves it all. Just as you begin to move your fingers to the other breast, considering pulling Ellie’s shirt off, the front door slams open and the both of you break apart so fast that you fall backwards onto the floor.

“Ow, fuck,” You groan, rubbing the back of your head that slammed into the wooden flooring.

“Are you okay?” Ellie yelps, her cheeks flushed with pink. “Oh my god, shit. Hi Dad.” She winces as you both see a large, gruff man walk into the living room. He has a greyed beard that’s not particularly groomed, but it works for him and his outgrown haircut. He’s dressed almost like Ellie, to tell the truth, adorned in a dark green flannel and pants so dirty that you can’t tell if they’re cargos or jeans. You decide it’s pointless to figure out.

The man’s grey eyes take in the sight before him: A girl on the floor of his living room, wearing Ellie’s clothes, as his daughter is perched on the couch with a blazingly red face, looking awkward, guilty, and shocked to see him.

“Joel! Dad! You’re, uh, home early! I thought you were out of town tonight,” Ellie swallows hard, staring at him.

So this is Ellie’s dad, you think to yourself. No wonder she dresses the way she does.

“Hello to you too, Ellie. Who’s your friend?” His voice is as rumbly and rough as he is, like his lungs are filled with fire and smoke. He puts an extra sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘friend’.

“This is Y/N. Y/N, this is my stepdad, Joel,” Ellie says, her voice becoming very high pitched. “She came over to film for our project! So that’s why she’s in my clothes, ‘cause she dresses like a princess and she also looks like one, and uh, we were just watching a movie!”

Oh yeah. The long forgotten movie, But I’m a Cheerleader, still plays behind you, nearing the end. Ellie sounds panicked, the filter that only halfway works faltering the more she tries to explain herself.

Joel just looks at you two and lets out a laugh that sounds like the grinding of rocks. “Yeah, sure, you crazy kids.” He shakes his head. “I was eighteen and home alone once too.” He wiggles his eyebrows, a motion that's always been very impressive to Ellie.

“Joel!” Ellie cries out. “Stop that! You’re embarrassing me!”

“Ooh, sorry ‘bout that baby girl. I’m gonna go to sleep, the concert tired me out. Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He grins one more time, still chuckling, before disappearing somewhere into the large house. Ellie buries her head in her hands, having never been more humiliated in her life.

“I am so sorry about that,” She groans into her hands.

You just sit up, still on the floor, and laugh softly. “No, it’s okay. He seems really nice. I never had experiences like that with my parents.” You silently curse yourself for bringing the mood down so quickly, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. Ellie looks up from her hands, suddenly very curious.

“What do you mean?” She asks. “Uh, I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don't want to!” She splutters out as an afterthought.

You shake your head. “It’s fine. My dad’s just never been around, and my moms a junkie. That's why I wasn’t at school all week, ‘cause she just came back home. She was all sorts of fucked up.” Your shoulders shrug. You’ve always tried to not feel many emotions about it, because if you did feel them, they’d overwhelm you beyond function and recovery.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Ellie whispers.

“Why would you? I don’t tell anyone about that part of my life, it’s not fun to learn about.”

“Yeah, but I want to learn everything about you. I like learning,” Ellie smiles, and you almost melt. It’s the most comforting thing anyone has ever told you.

“Thanks Els,” You’re smiling so hard that it hurts. She genuinely cares about you, which is a very strange feeling that you’re not entirely used to. The people you know don’t care about on a deep level. They love being seen with you, the most popular girl in school, but they wouldn’t love the baggage that came with you if they even knew about it.

But Ellie? She cares. She asks questions and loves hearing the answers you give her. You have known each other since you were kids, spoken to each other daily with words filled with sharpness, been to her house multiple times, and you feel closer to her than anyone else that you know.

“So, Joel. You call him Joel sometimes, but you also call him ‘dad’. What’s the story there?” You get back on the couch, scooting close to her and pressing your thigh against hers. The warmth from her body seeps into you comfortingly.

“He adopted me when I was 14, so not long ago, but he fostered me for a while before that,” Ellie explains, grinning at you and pressing even closer to you. Her love language is physical touch, which won’t take you long to find out. “He’s a really super awesome dad.”

“He seems great,” You nod at her before checking the time on your phone. “I really don’t want to, but it’s late and I should go see my mom. I don’t have to, but I have to take care of her and-”

Ellie cuts you off. “You don’t have to take care of anyone. Your mom is the mom, you’re the child.” You tilt your head at her thoughtful words. That’s true, you’re not a parent. “You can, erm, stay h-here if you want. Only if you want!” She stutters out.

“Really? Could I?”

“Mhm. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so it wouldn’t interfere with school or anything. And you could take a night off from taking care of your mom.” It’s an appealing offer. Staying the night at Ellie’s house? Away from your mom? It’s a perfect offer, actually.

“I really could?” You ask for confirmation. Ellie nods furiously.

“Absolutely! It would be my pleasure, actually,” She winces as she realizes how horribly cringey she just sounded. “I mean, ahem, yeah sure.” She attempts to put on a much cooler, nonchalant voice. It does not work. She sounds like as much of a nerd as she usually does.

You laugh at her. “Okay, yeah if you don’t mind. I’ll stay here for the night. I’ll have to wear more of your clothes for pajamas, if that’s okay too… Is that okay?”

“Mhm!” The idea of you in her pajamas is almost enough to make her moan. What should she put you in? Surely none of her pajama pants patterned with nerd shit, that would be embarrassing. She has some sweatpants that might work, some t-shirts… She thinks it over a little too much as you follow her to her bedroom, as you’ve done a few times before by now. “Do you want dinner? I could make you something, I ate before you came here but I can still make more stuff-”

“Ellie! It’s okay, I also ate before I came here. I’m not hungry.”

“Cool, cool. Got it.” Ellie nods and begins rummaging through her messy drawers of clothing as you settle on the edge of her bed, watching her hurried movements. She eventually tosses a shirt at you, which you catch, but the pair of pants that follows hits you right in the face. “Oops,” She flinches, but you just giggle.

“Can you turn around while I put these on? I don’t want to flash you or anything.” You ask her. Well, she does want you to flash her, but she won’t let those words out of her mouth.

“Yeah, yep.” She spins around, covering her eyes with her hands as an extra security measure. You quickly strip off your clothes for the second time today before re-dressing in more of Ellie’s clothes. This time, it’s a pair of blue and black flannel pajama pants and a Ramones concert t-shirt. Not the worst clothes, you suppose.

As you’re turned around, Ellie puts her own pajamas on: a pair of Spiderman pajama pants and just a sports bra. She looks like a stereotypical lesbian, she knows it, but she also is praying that you think she looks hot. And the moment you turn around and take in the sight of her, that's exactly what you think. Her slight abs are on display, the pants low on her body hips. You can see her nipples poking through the fabric of her bra, making your mouth go dry. It’s like you forget where her eyes are and become solely focused on her chest.

“What?” She asks you, genuinely unaware of what you’re staring at.

“Nothing! Just tired, I need to sleep,” You tell her, tearing your eyes away from her muscles and her breasts.

“Okay then,” Ellie shrugs and begins pulling a few blankets from her bed onto the floor, dropping some pillows next to them. You stare at her, confused.

“What the hell are you doing, nerd?” You tease, grinning behind her.

“Making my bed? So you can sleep on the actual bed.” She shrugs.

“Ellie, my tongue was just in your mouth. We can sleep in the same bed, stupid.”

Her face flushes for the millionth time today at the reminder of the heated kiss you shared. “Right! Yeah, you’re right, sorry.” She throws the blankets back on the bed, jumping onto it herself.

You shake your head, giggling as you get into bed next to her. She switches the lamp on her nightstand off, bathing the room in darkness. You’re left laying next to Ellie, your bodies pressed together and her arms slowly creeping around you and pulling you even closer to her. Your breath hitches as your back is glued to her chest, but you melt into the embrace.

Then, in no time, you’re asleep in the arms of the girl you were supposed to hate.

——————————————————————————

oh my god guys they kissedddd. your comments on the last post had me DYINGGGG sorry about that cliffhanger😭 won’t do it again!

jk yes i will

anywaysss i’m coming up with some ideas for what i’ll write after this (this fic is not done don’t worry, i’m just coming up with some stuff ahead of time) let me know if you want to know my ideas!

i adore you all so much!!!

-Blue 🦋

tag list: @vahnilla @elliesngirl @naniiiii12 @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @elliesgffrfr @nymanas @yashirawr @leeidk87 @imvioletscupcake

[todomochi-uwu]

him. (1/?) | P. D. A & R. Z

Pairing(s): Portgas D. Ace x reader; Roronoa Zoro x reader Genre: Smut, Angst Warnings: This content is for a mature audience Synopsis: "It was Ace. It was always Ace." Author's notes: Let's see if this pulls me out of the fucking block once and for all. And yes, this is purely and utterly self-indulgent.

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

You couldn´t remember a time in your life when your heart didn’t belong to Luffy’s older brother, Ace. After the stereotypically meet-cute where he saved you from a bunch of bullies on the playground,  

“Leave her alone, you idiot!” He said pushing the leader to the ground, who was pulling on your hair, while you begged him to stop. “If I catch any of you bothering her again, I’ll beat the shit out of you.” Ace, always great with words —at least enough to scare your abusers (he also happened to be an older kid).  

“Are you okay?” He extended his hand and gave you his signature smile. Right there, your destiny was sealed. You had been sentenced to spend your next years in this world completely and irrevocably in love with your childhood saviour. 

After this event, you attached yourself to his hip, quickly getting to know his brothers and friends and becoming a part of the group. Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Sanji, and Usopp, who were the same age as you, were quick to open their hearts to you and offer unconditional friendship, but though you loved them immensely, Ace was always the biggest and brightest star in your heart. 

He was always there for you, either to help with homework, 

“I’m going to be completely honest with you Y/n, I have no clue as to how to divide decimals.” 

“Huh? But you learnt this a couple of years ago, didn’t you?” 

“Dear, do I look like a math guy to you?” 

With life problems, 

“My mom is such an asshole; she won’t stop treating me like I’m a child. I can take care of myself.” 

“I’m sure it's hard for her to see you grow up, love. Besides, you are asking her to stay in a cabin with a bunch of guys.” 

“Nami will be there!” 

“Still.” 

Or some other... more complicated problems. 

“I can’t go to college being a virgin Ace, everyone will make fun of me.” 

“Babe, no one will even care, trust me.” He rubbed your back in circles. 

"That's easy for you to say, you fuck everything that moves.” You punched his arm. It hurt a bit to say, you wouldn’t lie, but it was what it was. 

“Y/n don’t worry... wait, no I don’t! Where do you even get that?!” 

“Sabo always complains of how loud you are.” A small giggle escaped your lips. 

“Fucking... I don’t fuck everything that moves, yeah, I have some experience, but I’m not a man-whore.” He scratched the back of his head, blushing. 

You sighed, throwing yourself back on the bed. “Maybe I should just get it over with, maybe date someone briefly...”, you threw a pillow into your face, “or ask one of the guys, or whatever, Sanji might say yes.”  

“Hey, okay you don’t need to stress yourself about it. You being a virgin doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a social concept, you know?” Pushing the pillow away from your face, “but it’s still a new experience, and it should be with someone who’ll love you and respect you.” 

“Sanji is a bit much, but I think...” 

“Don’t fuck one of your best friends, Y/n.” 

“But he loves me and respects me, he’s weird about it, but...” 

“You are really set on this, are you?” 

Shrugging your shoulders, you nodded, “I just want to take the pressure off, you know? I want the full college experience, without having to limit myself.” 

He sighed, his ears slowly turning bright red, “Okay, well, if it’s that important to you,” he turned his face away, “I can help you with that.” He whispered. 

Holy shit. Your eyes opened wide, and your mouth dried up. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing —of course, you had thought about it, more times than you cared to admit, but you never thought it would be a possibility. You had quickly realized that Ace always thought of you as a smaller sister, taking care of you as such; never noticing, or acknowledging, your feelings for him.  

“I want this to be a good experience for you, —as good as it can be. So, if you want, and feel comfortable, I will,” his cheeks more and more tinted, “be your first time.” 

That’s how Ace had completely ruined you for other men, he made the experience as complete and pleasant as it could be. He took you out on a date, took you to your favourite café, remembered your usual order; took a stroll around the park, holding your hand, and making you laugh all the while; finally, to taking you back to his flat. 

“You can back out at any point, love. Just say the word, tap me twice, hell even punch me if you need it, and I will stop right away.”  

You simply nodded in response, too nervous to speak. 

He caressed your arms and hands, trying to appease your poor mind. He kissed you softly, tracing small figures in the back of your head with his fingertips, his movements moving south, reaching your waist and ending their path at your thighs. 

“May I take your clothes off, gorgeous?” 

You pushed off one of the straps of your dress, now eager to continue. He stopped you. 

“Let me do it.” 

You had almost forgotten it. As much of a virgin as you may be, you wanted to be prepared, so, you had dragged Nami to the mall, in search of the right lingerie set. One who would make you feel confident enough in your skin (and one that wasn’t a fucking enigma to put on). At first, she was confused, why did you need lingerie? Last she knew you weren’t dating anyone. Was it just for you? Half the time you were wearing sweatpants and a dirty sweatshirt you stole from Usopp. 

“Nami, please just help me.” You grabbed a black set with a pantie line that was almost non-existent, “whose fucking pussy fits in this?” 

"I mean, you are not supposed to go out in this, it will take you more time to put it on than for the guy to take it off." She stared at you, "Y/n, why are we even buying lingerie?” 

You turned bright red, “umm...” 

“Are you seeing someone? Is Zoro? Sanji? Oh god, please tell me it's not Sanji.” 

“No, no, it’s not them, and I’m not exactly seeing him." You pulled and hung back different clothes, not daring to look at her, it was until you pulled an orange and black set, “what do you think about this one?” 

“What do you...?” She turned to see it, the confusion in her face quickly being replaced with shock, “Holy shit, are you fucking Ace?!” She yelled. 

“Shh! Nami, what the fuck?! I don’t need the entire mall to find out.” 

“How? Since when? I mean, we all know you’ve always had a crush on him, but...” 

“He offered to take my virginity.” 

“What?!” 

After a brief and whispered-yelled explanation, you filled her in. She looked unsure about your decision, but at the end of the day, it was Ace, and she trusted him as much as you did (also, she isn’t blind, even if she isn’t into guys she could admit how hot he is).  

“I think he’ll love that on you.” 

His eyes were glued to the cloth that adorned your chest, following the flower pattern with his fingers. He gulped, feeling his sanity slip away. He had to get his shit together. 

“Do you like it?” Not daring to look him in the eyes. 

“Did you get this for me?” 

You nodded shyly. 

"I love it." 

His hands were soft against your skin, his lips kissing and sucking every single inch of your being; the words he would whisper in your ear made your knees grow weak. The way his fingers reached places yours never could, his tongue enveloping your bundle of nerves introducing you to a new world of sensations, his teeth marked the skin around your nipples making you throw your head back in ecstasy. You would beg for the next step, bucking up your hips against his, but he decided to be a tease about it. 

“I’m not sure you are ready for my cock, princess.” 

His dirty talk sent waves down your core, making you whine, "Please, Ace." 

“Mm...” He hummed against your skin, “How much do you want it?” 

“Ace, please, please make love to me.” 

That seemed to ground him a bit, "Okay, my love." 

He tapped the tip of his dick against your clit a couple of times, then dragged it up and down your entrance, “Tell me if hurts, okay?” And like that, he pushed himself inch by inch. 

Your mouth opened, letting out small moans and gasps, the sensation quite foreign to you, he was quite bigger than your fingers, stretching you out in a way you'd never been before. “Oh my god.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a second, please don’t move.” Completely overwhelmed. 

“Of course.” He stilled himself, lowering his face to place small kisses on the valley of your breasts and neck. 

After a couple of minutes, you allowed him to continue. He started with small, almost fearful thrusts, closely watching every single change in your expression, until you threw your head back and moaned along, “There, right there! Don’t stop!” 

With renewed confidence, his hips moved more securely, bulling that spot inside of you, “There, baby? Does it feel good?”  

“Yes! Oh god, Ace!” Your nails scratched down his back. 

“Fuck babe, you are driving me crazy.” 

His moans filled your ears, you didn’t know someone could sound so heavenly. His hands gripped the plush flesh of your hips so tightly and possessive you were sure it would leave marks, but you didn’t care, he could mark all he wanted, you were his. He pushed himself off you, not stopping his pace, "You look so fucking beautiful”, his kisses were messy and desperate. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, eyes at the back of your skull, and your mouth unable to pronounce anything but his name. His eyes closed, mouth letting out whines and whimpers in the form of your name, his pelvis pushing against your clit. 

His tip kept bullying your cervix, making you clench even tighter around his length, Ace knew he wouldn’t last much longer, but he had to make you cum first. He needed it. 

“Common, baby. Give it to me, cum around my cock, please." His pace became quicker and rougher, and his thumb drew circles on your clit, “I need to feel you cumming around me, please give it to me.” 

Hearing him beg for you was your last straw, the knot in your belly bursting and sending your entire body and mind into complete ecstasy, “Ace!”  

Your walls contracted against his cock, pushing him over the edge, “Fuck, Y/n!” His essence filling the condom, he silently wished it was inside you instead. 

You pushed your forearms against your face, covering your face while trying to regain your breath, you could feel the throbbing of your legs' muscles and the shivers running down your spine. 

“Love? Are you okay?” He pushed away the arm covering you, “Y/n is everything alright?” 

You giggled and nodded. You were happy. 

He giggled right back, “Good. Let me clean you up, then we can cuddle.” 

Oh, you and your poor heart. 

A week after you were at Nami’s house, celebrating your weekend before you were off to college. You made your way through the crowd, in search of any of your friends, how the hell did Nami know so many people? Thankfully, you quickly spotted Usopp and Luffy downing shots in the kitchen bar. 

“Slow down boys, or you’ll have a massive hangover tomorrow.” 

“Loosen up, Y/n. We are in college now, have some fun. Here.” Usopp passed you a cup, no idea what kind of alcohol or mix was inside it, "Chug it.” 

Well, if he insists. 

Half an hour later you were screaming the lyrics of a song you barely recognized at the top of your lungs, leaning against Luffy while he shoved his mouth with snacks. Nami had finally found you, dragging Sanji and Zoro with her. 

“I have been looking for you all over the place, come on!” She grabbed your hand, now taking you and your drink buddies into another room. 

All of you were tipsy, well a bit more than that, but managed to sit in a circle on the floor. Nami opened a bottle of tequila and poured it into the small red cups, “we need to toast to us making it to college.” 

“We got wasted back when we received our acceptance letters, we couldn’t stop throwing up the next day, don’t you remember?” Zoro groaned. 

“Yeah, yeah, but now the day is almost there, a lot has happened since, hasn’t it Y/n?” 

“Shut up, Nami.” The blush on your cheeks wasn’t from the alcohol in your veins. 

“What happened, Y/n?” Luffy said, tilting his head in curiosity. Of course, that was the one time he would catch onto something.  

“Nothing important, Luff don't worry about it.” 

Nami let out a drunk laugh, “Oh no, it wasn’t just important, it was massive.” 

“Nami!” You shoved her playfully. 

“Okay, what’s going on? What’s with all the secrecy?” Sanji said exasperated. 

Your best friend grabbed and shook you by the shoulders, "Our girl here, is officially the second member in our crew to lose her virginity." 

“Nami!” 

“What?!” Sanji’s eyes almost shot out of his head, “When? Where? How? With whom? How could you, Y/n?!” 

“Last week.” Nami continued. “With Ace.” 

The crew went crazy, asking you a thousand questions, screaming around and laughing like hyenas. You were bombarded with questions by Sanji and Nami, while Luffy made a grossed-out expression, not wanting to know so much about his brother. None of you seemed to notice how one crew member had checked out of the conversation and stepped out onto the balcony. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but his heart had fallen and cracked into the ground. His hands gripped the railing tightly, trying to control the knot that had formed in his throat.  

Of course, it was Ace. It was always Ace.  

“Are you okay, man?” He heard Usopp opening the door behind him. 

“It’s whatever.” 

"I'm sorry, Zoro." He patted him on the back, "I still don’t think you should give up on it. I believe you guys should be together.” 

The green-haired man looked at the sky, his chest aching, "yeah well, she believes she should be with Ace.”  

[everyones-doormat]

SLEIGHT OF HAND

masterlist | kang sae-byeok x reader

synopsis: she stole your wallet. so you stole it back. it initially started as payback, but quickly turned into a quiet game of cat and mouse. curiosity growing with every move.

genre: slow-burn, angst

The first time you saw her, she was walking away with your wallet.

Shoulders slightly hunched, hair tucked under a faded hoodie, hands in her pockets—just another girl in the crowd of Hongdae station.

You were merely trying to get home, minding your business, headphones in, music playing. You barely paid any mind to her bumping into you—not until you felt the soft brush along your back pocket.

Too light to be an accident. Too smooth to be amateur.

By the time you spun around, she was gone—just another hooded figure swallowed up by the crowd.

Your wallet was gone.

You cursed under your breath. Not because of the money, but because you of all people should’ve seen it coming.

The kicker? You had noticed her.

Not as a threat—just… noticed. Sharp eyes. Pretty face. Quiet confidence.

You stood still for a second, chewing the inside of your cheek. Partially annoyed. Partially impressed.

She was good. You hadn't been picked clean like that in years.

Maybe that was what irritated you the most.

You’d lived a life like that once. Pickpocketing. Petty theft. You'd left most of it behind, but it didn’t mean you’d forgotten the game. Some instincts never go away. Especially the ones that came with pride.

You never liked being one-upped.

So, of course, you made it your mission to find her.

-

It took just over a week.

She wasn’t easy to spot, but you knew how to read people. And eventually, you caught her slipping a phone from an unsuspecting businessman’s coat pocket at a night market.

Same walk. Same shoulders. Same hood over short black hair.

And that expression—cold, blank, careful.

Pocketing the lifted phone, she vanished down a side alley, and you followed.

You didn’t approach her. Just watched from a distance. Observed her habits. The way she kept to the edges of crowds, avoided eye contact, always kept one hand near her jacket’s inner pocket.

Experienced. Smart.

You liked her.

You also wanted a little revenge.

She stole from you. It was only fair you returned the favour.

-

Two nights later, you made your move.

You caught her exiting a convenience store, drink in one hand, the other holding an onigiri roll.

Perfect

You approach the store, acting like any other impatient customer.

You purposely bumped into her—lightly, gently.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

She didn’t even look at you. Just kept walking.

Her wallet slid into your hand seamlessly.

You kept walking. Turned the corner. Slipping it into your inner pocket.

By the time she turned around, you were already gone.

You don’t even glance down until you’re a block away. A leather wallet, beat-up and old. Inside: cash, a transit card, a folded photo—her and a little boy.

You didn’t bother taking any of the contents. This wasn’t about money.

It was about sending a message.

…And maybe, having a little fun.

-

True to your word, you didn’t take anything.

Instead, you decided to make a little game out of it, sliding in a folded note:

“Next time, try harder.

—The girl you stole from.”

You decided to return the wallet the next day.

You found her lingering by the edge of a crowded subway exit. She was busy lifting a wallet off from some unaware tourist. Taking advantage of the distraction, your hand slid smoothly across her outer jacket pocket.

Feeling the brief contact. Her head jerked up—suspicious, alert—but you were already walking.

-

A day later, you caught her watching you. Across the street. Her hood down this time. She didn’t try to hide it.

You met her stare, slow and deliberate.

Holding her gaze, you gave a small, unapologetic wink.

Her jaw tightened.

You felt the grin tug at your mouth before you could stop it.

-

It wasn’t long before you saw her again. This time she cornered you in a side alley. No crowds. No cameras.

 “You think that was funny?”, her voice low, even, but laced with the slightest edge of frustration.

You raised a brow. “Didn’t take your money. Just your ego.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. She stepped closer. And with that, you found your back pressing against the wall. You caught the scent of cigarettes and cold air on her clothes.

Leaning back against the wall, you tilted your head to hold her gaze. “You bumped into me in Hongdae station, lifted my wallet.”

With a small smirk you added, “I figured I’d return the favour.”

Her posture stiffened slightly. Her face didn’t change, but something shifted. Just the smallest glint of recognition.

A pause. “You followed me?” she asked, her tone flat. But there was a hint of confusion there. And maybe…a touch of amusement?

“I watched you,” you said simply. “Was just waiting for the opportunity.”

Taking a step back. She tilted her head slightly—eyes studying you, like she was trying to figure out what you wanted.

 “You used to boost”, her voice steady, like she wasn’t asking, just stating a fact.

“Used to.” you said, slipping your hands into your coat. “Kept clean these days.” You nodded toward her. “You clearly didn’t.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it. If anything, the corner of her mouth twitched, just barely.

Her eyes flicked over your face like she was trying to figure out what you were playing at—and whether she cared. “You track everyone who steals from you?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

Her face stayed neutral, unreadable, but you swear the corner of her mouth pulled—for just a second.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eyes scanning your face like she was still deciding whether to walk away—or threaten you.

“I don’t like being followed,”

“I don’t like being robbed,” you shot back, a smile forming.

That made her pause.

Then. She exhaled quietly through her nose. A laugh maybe. It was hard to tell.

Her gaze lingered for a beat too long. Then, without warning, she stepped past you. “Don’t follow me again.”

You smiled, hands tucked in your pockets. “Noted.”

But just before she disappeared around the corner, she glanced over her shoulder. “Cute note.”

Your smile deepened before you could stop it.

This wasn’t over.

‧₊˚ ⋅❀ ‧₊˚ ⋅❀ ‧₊˚ ⋅❀ ‧₊˚ ⋅❀ ‧₊˚ ⋅❀ ‧₊˚ ⋅❀ ‧₊

holy shit...this took me way too long to write.

I've had this idea for ages but couldn't figure out how to write it lol

taglist: @gemzyy

[cherrylibby]

The Morning After

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the apartment as the soft rays of the sun peered through the blinds, casting gentle streaks of light across the room. Y/N stretched lazily in bed, the warmth of the sheets making it difficult to leave the comfort of her cozy spot. Her mind was still foggy with sleep, and she turned over, only to find Jake still snoozing beside her. He looked completely relaxed, his head resting on the pillow, and his hair a little messy from their sleep.

She smiled at the sight. Jake had always been the picture of confidence, with his wide, confident smile and cheeky charm. But when it was just the two of them, when no one was around to see, he was so... tender. The kind of man who would quietly make sure the thermostat was adjusted just right before bed, or who would sneak a kiss on her forehead when she wasn't looking.

Y/N reached out and lightly traced the outline of his jaw with her fingers, a small giggle escaping her lips as he stirred slightly.

"Morning, sunshine," she whispered softly, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Jake groggily opened his eyes, his lips curling into that signature smirk that always made her heart flutter. "Mmm... Good morning, gorgeous. You're up early."

Y/N laughed quietly, "You were snoring," she teased, her voice light as she gave him a playful nudge.

Jake snorted, rubbing his eyes, "I do not snore."

"You do, though," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Just a little."

"Okay, fine," Jake grinned, finally sitting up and pulling her close. "But only because you're the love of my life, I’ll forgive you for exposing my secrets."

She chuckled, resting her head against his shoulder. The sound of the coffee machine bubbling in the kitchen was the only noise between them for a moment. She was content, completely at ease in his arms.

The warmth of their closeness felt perfect. The familiarity of it, the little moments like this, was exactly what Y/N had always wanted. There was something so sweet about mornings like this, where everything felt right, where there was no rush, no pressure. Just the two of them, together in their own little world.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked up to see him giving her a mischievous grin. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “A surprise? What did you do?”

“Nothing crazy,” Jake said, climbing out of bed and reaching for his hoodie. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

Curiosity piqued, Y/N watched him as he headed toward the kitchen. She could hear the sound of him rummaging around and the clinking of plates. The scent of pancakes soon began to fill the room, and she blinked in surprise.

Jake had always been the one to pick up takeout or suggest they order pizza, but cooking? That was a new one.

She followed him into the kitchen, and there he was—standing in front of the stove, flipping pancakes with the kind of concentration that was so unlike his usual carefree self.

“You... You’re making breakfast?” she asked, still surprised.

Jake looked up, his grin widening. “Of course. I promised I’d spoil you this weekend. Pancakes it is.”

Y/N could barely hold back the laugh bubbling in her chest. Jake, the confident, flirtatious pilot, was so serious about making pancakes. It was the sweetest, most unexpected thing.

“You know, I never thought I’d see the day where Jake Seresin is flipping pancakes,” she teased, leaning against the counter.

“Don’t get used to it,” he winked. “It’s a one-time thing... Unless, of course, you want me to do this every weekend?”

“Hmm... I’m considering it,” she replied playfully, watching him work with a glint of admiration in her eyes.

Soon enough, Jake had a stack of pancakes ready, and they sat at the small table in their cozy kitchen, laughing and chatting about anything and everything. Every so often, Jake would lean across the table and brush a crumb from her lip, a small smile dancing on his face as he did.

“Do you know how much I love you?” Jake said suddenly, his tone soft and sincere.

Y/N paused mid-bite, her heart skipping a beat at the way he looked at her. His hazel eyes sparkled with genuine affection.

“I think you’ve told me a few times,” she teased, trying to hide the warmth spreading across her cheeks.

Jake smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I’m just reminding you. I’m crazy about you.”

Y/N grinned, feeling her heart swell. “I’m crazy about you, too.”

They shared a comfortable silence, the kind that only came from being with someone who truly understood you. As they ate their breakfast and continued talking about their plans for the day, Y/N realized something—this, these little moments, were what truly made life special. It wasn’t the big gestures or the flashy events. It was the quiet mornings spent together, the inside jokes, the soft kisses on the forehead, and the way Jake always knew exactly what she needed, even without saying a word.

But as she took another sip of her coffee, Jake cleared his throat, his gaze turning a little more serious.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice a bit more hesitant than usual. “I’ve been thinking... You’ve been staying over at my place so often lately, and I’ve gotta ask—have you thought about, you know... moving in? Like, really moving in.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. She had been staying at Jake’s place a lot recently, and they had fallen into a comfortable routine together, but the thought of officially living together hadn't really crossed her mind in that way.

“You want me to move in?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and affection.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, looking a little sheepish. “I know it’s a big step, but, I don’t know... I can’t help but imagine waking up with you here every morning. Like, all the time. Not just for weekends.”

Y/N’s heart melted a little as she looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making her stomach flutter. He really meant it. She had never seen Jake so vulnerable about something like this before. He wasn’t joking around, and she could tell he wasn’t just saying it because of the convenience. He was saying it because he wanted her there. All the time.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” she admitted softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I just didn’t know if you were ready for that.”

Jake’s face lit up, his usual smirk returning, but there was something deeper there too—something softer. “I’m ready, Y/N. I want to come home to you. To us.”

Y/N reached across the table, taking his hand gently in hers. “Then... yes. I’d love to move in with you, Jake. I think it’d be perfect.”

Jake’s grin stretched wide, his eyes bright with happiness. He leaned over and kissed her hand, then softly brushed his lips against hers.

“Perfect,” he whispered. “It’s going to be perfect.”

And in that moment, as they sat there in the warmth of their kitchen, everything felt right. This was the beginning of something new—something beautiful. And it was exactly what both of them had been waiting for.

[12amintoronto]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ... omar marmoush x reader 📰🤎

"some things just make sense... and one of those is you and i." - hayley williams

──────────────────────

wc: 2.4k

synopsis: while embarking on your career as a journalist, you are arranged to interview omar marmoush - the boy who was your first love years ago, now a rising football star. even after years apart, feelings still lingering about, you know... and he knows... this is what's meant to be.

contents: fluff, sfw, female journalist reader, other journalist oc who is your bff, flirting, reunited with the first boyfriend you ever had awww, omar's charm is out of this world!!

notes: this is 2 requests turned 1 fic 🩵🩵 this was so adorable to write i hope you guys like 🥹 tagged: @football-lovergirl

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you were an absolute natural at your job, but there was a particular element about your next mission that had you feeling all sorts.

you paced about your room, phone in hand, the night before you were about to be faced with one of the people who was the main reason for one of the sweetest times in your life.

"y/n... this is huge! just breathe... compose yourself..." your fellow journalist friend, diana, reassured to you over the facetime call that you shared with her.

years ago as you attended university in germany as you'd been accepted into the journalism program you'd had your eyes on for a good bit...

had university also brought to you plans aside from schoolwork, but for a taste of love which you had first been fed when you were doing fieldwork alongside wolfsburg ii.

there at that football club, was an egyptian boy that you'd caught glances from as you sat on the sidelines jotting in your memo book. the glances started out as from time... to frequent... to a calibre where coach would have to snap at omar to stay focused during training, which you found increasingly cute.

it turned into something sweet. the hearts and arrows with "omar + y/n" written faintly in the margins of your memo book became a reality.

it was with that boy from wolfsburg ii you shared your first kiss with... your first date with... a myriad of joyful and emotional moments as one would have with their first love.

but after nearly a year, home called you back... and the demand of omar's football career began to grow. "maybe this was just to see what love's like," you thought to yourself the first few nights after being away from him. you both went on about your respective lives—it wasn't a bad breakup like you'd seen your friends go through... which you were so grateful for, and are.

and now, you were going to see him again—as you'd been blessed the opportunity to interview that same 18 year old egyptian boy... now a 26 year old man. omar marmoush... who now plays for one of the biggest clubs in all of european football, manchester city.

"hellooo? you still there y/n?" diana's voice sounded over the phone.

you snapped out of the reverie, shaking your head. "yeah—i was just thinking...

...yeah. i'm... i'll be ready. this will go nicely."

"oh i'm sure it will. i was there with you when you got word that you'd be interviewing him. you were all blushy~" diana teased.

"oh stop~" you said, the sarcasm quite evident.

you didn't want the teasing to stop. the thoughts of possibilities between you and your first ever love years after it had been.

it had been once. and you sat in wonder, in bouts for those years after deciding to live your respective lives on one's own to keep up with the demands of academia and football. "could we try again?" was a question that had never gone away.

you always managed to brush it off because you were focused on your grind in academics as was he in football... seemingly.

"this is going to be such a beautiful reunion, y/n." diana continued. "i can already hear omar and his voice going on about how 'you're all grown up.'"

you sat on the edge of the bed and sighed contentedly as she said that... smiling as you looking out to the skyline from your room, the city lights contrasting the near black sky calming. it radiated hope in a way.

diana chimed again. "i'm rooting for you, babes. get some sleep for tomorrow's interview, okay? i'll pick you up."

you smiled. classic diana, bearing burdens of her loved ones.

"love you, di," you sighed.

"love you, babes. see ya~"

──────────────────────

that next evening after an ecstatic city win, it was time you had come face to face with that boy, now the all-grown-up international who had scored a hattrick in a span of just fourteen minutes versus newcastle. you were in awe yourself as you watched from the box way up with diana - who shook you gently by the shoulders from time - "oooh, someone's gonna be all prideful when he's coming off the pitch."

it was like that, in a way. omar - cocky, yet still so humble about it. walking with gratitude as he carried the match ball underneath one arm as he went to hug his teammates and staff postmatch.

it was the same "proud of myself" sort of smirk that you could always remember him giving when he'd achieved just about anything.

but his entire expression faded into something softer as he was coming through the tunnel and into the very area where you stood, mic in hand in front of that backdrop that all postgame interviews occur in front of.

"it's... her." omar whispered to himself, quiet enough he could barely even hear himself over the clamour surrounding as he approached you, even his walk becoming humbler.

it was a sweet greeting omar gave you... the kind kiss on each cheek that one would greet a loved one from family with, and you could both tell from each other's tender smiles shared that there was so much you guys wanted to talk about and catch up on that had little to nothing to do with the match that had just wrapped up.

though you both stood on business - as you stood in front of that backdrop, mic in hand... you readied yourself to speak for the masses on that camera, as did he. you skimmed your interview questions just once more in your mind before all had gone live.

and there was diana off-camera working the rest of the medias, right in front of you and omar. giggling... making a heart with her hand that she could hold up to her eye to keep you two within the frame of the shape her hands curved into.

you tensed and felt your cheeks tinge with heat and blush. in your peripheral vision, you could see omar. noticing your colleague's teasing. he smiled to himself and looked down... giving a silent chuckle.

and then he looked at you, his gaze still soft. giving a kind and gentle nod - one that let you know he was ready to speak. ready for the cameras to get rolling.

you were done for - it was for certain you couldn't live down the remnants of your subtle, rarely-surfacing, yet steadfast crush on your first ever boyfriend, omar marmoush.

──────────────────────

"gosh, the whole world must think i'm a fool. i must be so rosy right now." you thought to yourself in your head after that hell of an interview.

well, it had gone nicely, looking at it from an outsider's perspective. you asked all the right questions, and omar gave all the right answers, singing his praises to all the positive forces that he knew accoladed to this brilliant hattrick in his professional career. his confidence mixed with humility was moving...

...and your elegance was unmatched. not like you were sure of it at first due to how many feelings you have been feeling inside and still are, but as soon as the cameras cut after that one exceptional take of an interview, diana came to you, with the most excited grin on her face, nudging you teasingly...

"you did beautifully, girl. gonna go take care of some more media stuff around... text me when you're ready to head back home. i got you." diana reassured, hugging you quickly though affectionately before she scurried off, giving an exaggerated wink to you.

you found it hard to believe her... for as you were interviewing omar, you were unable to read your own demeanor. for the heart hands she was giving and the pouts she gave you whenever omar shot that charming smile right your way... you weren't so sure you were that composed during the interview.

"agh- sorry about my friend! she's... just being silly. i love her though..." you sighed. omar stepped closer to you, facing you, the smile on his face bigger and sweeter than ever.

"awh, she just cares about you..." omar started.

"...wow. y/n. it's really you. is it?"

"i am thinking the same thing you are, omar..." you sighed.

your eyes met omar's... like... for good, this time. not locked into an interview... but just naturally sharing eye contact. it made you feel warm inside. those dark brown eyes that shone when he was thinking of or looking at something... or more so someone he loves was bringing back memories of teenage you. teenage you two.

he held that awestruck gaze upon you for a second longer, but it broke just as you were about to speak.

"whewwww!! marmoushhh..." city's famous striker none other than erling haaland, chimed in as he walked past, in the direction of the club dressing room, accompanied by winger savinho who whistled at the sight of you two. "shooters shoot, marmoush..!"

and both you and omar were left with your lips parted, in quite a bit of disbelief...

...could that mean there's something you don't know? something you don't know about omar's feelings... could they be there..?

the way he sighed softly, almost adorable - no, very adorable... let you know something.

"ahhhh... sorry. well... i guess it may make you feel better than you aren't the only one being teased by the ones you work with~" omar said, clearly a little more humbled.

"but wow..." he continued.

"you...

...you've blossomed, y/n."

"omarrr... look at you! from second division wolfsburg... to here. man city. you're a star."

he laughed softly, giving you that up-down look that made you blush even more than you already were.

"it's been so long." you sighed.

"it has... i just- wow..." he murmured, in such disbelief.

you could notice a twinkle in his eyes. not like he even had to mention it... because to omar... you are beautiful. he couldn't believe it. you, his first girlfriend... now interviewing him as he's a player for one of the most well known first tier clubs in all of the lands. he still saw the same sweet girl who was always jotting her fieldnotes at his training sessions...

...only now was he graced the moment in time to take in you now.

not just a... but the beautiful young woman doing journalism, who he only has fond memories of from when you two hung out while living life in germany.

you were taken by surprise as you felt a touch at your hand... his large fingers delicately clasping your hand into his hold. his look was full of sincerity.

"we have so much to catch each other up on, y/n." omar confessed. "just... let me know the day that works best for you."

were the sparks really flying again?

the familiar butterflies flitting about in your stomach gave you that inner feeling of deja vu. you'd been here before. not physically here relative to the etihad... but you'd been here, given this feeling by omar from something he's said that made your heart skip a beat.

"i'd... really like that, omar." you agreed, not even needing to think twice about it. "i'm not on the same number that i was while in germany years back, of course... but i've got you~"

you unclasped your purse that was slung over your shoulder, and reached and felt just what you were looking for. you always kept just a few of your business cards on hand... though just as you looked up with the card in hand... omar's hands were busy.

his match ball on the ground, him slipping out of his postmatch jacket... hands tugging at his jersey which he slipped with ease over his head, off of his body. his eyes caught onto your business card as he was about to hand his matchworn jersey to you. your gazes met one another's again, eliciting a giggle from both of you.

"hehe, for me?" you blushed, eyes darting between omar's charming expression and his match jersey in hand, outstretched for you to take... which you did. and he smiled, as he used that same hand that once help his jersey out to you to take the business card gently from your fingers, in between his own... examining it with a smile before his eyes met yours again.

"all for you, dear. and thank you for this~" omar said, holding onto your business card with your contact inscribed in it as if it was something precious...

...for it was. a reminder that the first girl he'd ever fallen in love with had come this far in life. and all that he felt for you was beginning to resurface just like that... as it was for you... and boy, at this point was it difficult for both you and omar to hide.

"y/n... it's so lovely to see you again, you know that?"

"it is, omar. life's so cool like that, eh? we're just, i don't know... here! face to face, after all this time." you agreed with a smile.

his smile was so charming that the feeling of having to look away before you turned completely beet red had come over you for the first time in a long time.

"yes y/n... and after all this time, we're going to be seeing so much more of each other...

...i promise you."

as if anyone around could actually see it, but you were certain that your heart was warmed like nothing else in the world had ever done to you after omar avowed that to you.

he still looked at you like you were the only girl that was to ever exist. right there, post interview at the etihad, one day after seven years of not having seen each other.

this moment let you know, as you and omar kept up that innocent gaze for one another...

...nothing's changed.

that subtle, rarely-surfacing, yet steadfast crush that you brushed off as silly was not so silly anymore... for it was not only a certainty you had about him... but him, for you.

after all this time... he's still into you... as are you.

[miyaagis]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐ birth is the death of us. iwaizumi hajime

not feeling like yourself can ruin so many beautiful things like watching your baby grow and sharing such joy with your husband. even your intimate life with him... if there's any left.

explicit content - mdni. ₊˚⊹ ⚝ marriage + parenthood au. cuckquean reader, fem oc, reader is in her 20s, iwaizumi and fem oc in their 30s. angst, lowkey emotional cheating, unprotected sex, humiliation, body comparison. mentions of giving birth, implied postpartum depression and low self-esteem related to physical appearance.

word c. a little over 1,900

the last time i had the pleasure of including iwaizumi hajime (27) in a fic was prob two years ago (maybe more). so thank u so much @mycolorhologram for commissioning me and trusting me with ur idea ♡

“Do you think we should switch to an SUV?” He asks with his finger hovering over the screen of his phone, the crease above his left brow stands out as he frowns down at it—a feature you've learned to become familiar with. “For safety purposes, I mean.”

The laundry machine hums in the background, disturbing the atmosphere of your home while simultaneously joining the white noise machine in your baby’s room. You dismiss his question, which seemingly came out of the blue.

“It’s a big spend.” You shrug it off, not realizing that, in reality, it’s not a random thought. “Maybe in the future.”

A sigh from him is all you get, which prompts you to leave the laundry basket on the floor and step closer. He still hasn’t scrolled past whatever he’s looking at on his phone, so your curiosity wins.

You suddenly wish you hadn’t peeked. 

“Is that Minako?”

Noticing you standing close enough to see his screen, he locks it at the same time he clears his throat. “Uh– Yeah.”

It’s only an Instagram post, that’s the first thing your brain tells you. But your gut knows that him mentioning getting a new car when his ex shows off her brand-new Lexus is not a coincidence.

“I’ll go check on the baby.” He knows your silence is dangerous territory, so he’s quick to flee the scene.

He hasn’t even reached the hall when you speak again, calm as ever, but he can see the cogs turning in your brain.

“She still works at your old job?”

He hesitates for a second, debating between sharing what he really knows and what he’s supposed to know.

“I think so?” His tone is light and dismissive, shrugging it off like it’s nothing. “Last I heard, she was after a promotion. Why?”

The laundry machine stops, its alarm letting you know the cycle is done. You try to ignore it, just like how you’ve been ignoring how boring your marriage has become and how exhausted you always are. It’s only been two months since your baby was born, but it feels like it’s been two years instead. Lately, time moves slow for you, but not fast enough for your husband.

You decide it’s best to drop the subject. 

“No reason.”

—

The clock reads 23:15 when his hand snakes around your waist.

You don’t say anything at first, merely enjoying his embrace as he spoons you close to him. It’s a gesture you’ll always welcome, especially after a long day of mom duty.

A tender kiss is placed at the crown of your head, and you smile, sinking further in his arms. It doesn’t take long for his lips to travel all over the side of your face, his warm breath and presence comforting your tired spirit. But when his hand moves under your shirt, gliding up to the underside of your breast, the comfort switches to uneasiness.

“Haji…” A weak murmur from you is quickly lost in the dark.

His kisses persist, his hand swiftly reaching up to cup the soft flesh and give a squeeze. All you can hear from him are his heavy breaths while he presses you close, his front making contact with your backside at the same time his rough fingers pinch a sensitive nipple. You try to turn around so his hand would lose contact with your breast, but his hold is too firm, and you’re left squirming against what seems to be a wall of concrete.

You think it’s over when he lets go and his hand moves down to your hip bone, staying there idly.

“Finally got you all to myself, mama.” Lust drips over the huskiness in his voice, the sound of clearly being desired making your heart beat faster.

However, as much as you long to hear his words of worship, you just… don’t really feel that excitement anymore. Especially since it’d involve him seeing your postpartum body in too much detail—which also makes it harder to believe his praise.

You swat his hand away—gently, of course. “Not yet.”

He’s not new to this apparent rejection from your part, he has heard it all: ‘I’m tired’, ‘It hurts’, ‘I don’t feel comfortable’. And he’s getting tired of fighting you, his disappointment steadily turning into annoyance as he rolls over with a sigh. 

—

The following night, he doesn't even try.

From your side of the bed, you watch as he goes straight to the bathroom, the door slamming behind him and a minute later the water from the shower starts to run along with echoes of his deep grunts.

Once he gets in bed, your hand settles over his bare chest, a little uncertain. 

“I could’ve helped.” You offer him a soft smile, but he seems genuinely confused. “I mean– giving you a hand?”

It’s awkward and cringe enough to make you wince at your own words. He’s your husband, sex shouldn’t be this awkward when he has seen you birth your child.

His amusement lasts a few seconds before he’s clearing his throat and leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Don’t worry about it.”

That’s when you make your decision.

—

“Are you out of your damn mind?!”

You should’ve seen it coming. 

Hajime is clearly upset, sporting his characteristic scowl and directing it at you once he made sure the door of your bedroom was closed.

What you fail to see is how, in reality, he’s upset at himself. He refuses to admit how much he likes the idea. It’s so, so wrong of him to immediately picture himself with another woman, the ‘what if’s’ playing in his mind effortlessly—he’s disgusted.

“Hear me out, please.” You rush to explain yourself, his troubled gaze making contact with yours.

He nods once. It’s all he can give you right now to acknowledge he’s willing to listen. Doesn’t mean he’s happy about it, though.

“I still don’t feel comfortable after the baby… with my body, I mean.” He’s aware of it, he has seen you drown yourself in his shirts and sweatpants, rejecting every chance to go out, even for a coffee, because you don’t feel your best. “It’s weird to explain, but I think it’s an opportunity for us to bond, to– I don’t know, deepen our trust?”

And you mean it. Giving him the chance to explore his pent-up sexual energy in a controlled and safe environment is something you look forward to. 

He loves you, he truly does. You have not only given him unconditional love for the past few years, but also a child, pouring your heart, body, and soul into nurturing your little one. But he can see what you mean, he’s noticed your skin looking dull, your lack of excitement when it comes to the sexual side of your marriage. Of course he never says anything, it’s not your fault.

And then there’s your libido. Non-existent.

“It sounds insane.” 

You see a bit of the initial resistance fade, and you internally celebrate it.

“You can decide who.” Your tone turns bashful, a little ashamed of what you’re about to admit. “I’ve seen sites, we can browse those together?” 

He hesitates again, looking away before staring back at your hopeful expression. He hates that he’s even entertaining the idea, but he hates it even more that he already knows who he wants.

“I guess...”

—

Seeing your husband kiss his college girlfriend with a passion that should be reserved for you, feels like a punch to the gut—especially when said ex-girlfriend is closer in age to him than you are.

She came in carrying her successful self with confidence, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t affect your own self-esteem. But this isn’t about you or her, this is about him. You can only hope she’s also aware of it.

He parts from her mouth with a soft bite to her bottom lip, your core reacting to the sight of it even as your heart squeezes painfully. His head turns your way and his darkened eyes land on you, it only takes him a few steps to reach you, your back rigid as you stay seated by the couch next to the bed.

“Sit pretty for me, yeah?” His lips meet your temple in a tender and loving kiss, one you’ve gotten countless times as reassurance. “I love you, baby.”

And then he’s back with her.

It all goes too quickly, and you don't know if you should be grateful that he’s just… getting it over with. The sooner it ends, the better. Right? You truly want to enjoy this experience, but she’s not making it easy.

He easily gets her legs up on his shoulders, their eyes on each other as he thrusts in short yet harsh strokes. You can’t hear clearly what they’re saying, relying mostly on where his eyes or hands land on her body.

“Fuck–” curses slip from his mouth effortlessly, and he feels himself throb when his hands circle Minako’s waist perfectly. There’s a look of utter bliss on her, one he’s very familiar with, and takes him back to the intense nights they used to share.

“Mhm… harder, Haji.” His ex drags her nails from his shoulders down to his biceps, the nickname slipping easily and with a familiarity that makes you feel uneasy. “Need it deeper.” 

His heart feels weak the more he watches her take every inch without complaining. For once, after God-knows-how-long, he’s able to suck and bite on a pair of nipples to his heart’s content without worrying about being pushed away. He can move hard and deep, pressing his sensitive tip against the cervix without expecting the woman underneath him to scoot away in discomfort.

It’s a never-ending bliss of having passionate, dirty sex with someone that won’t shy away from his touch. 

Which means, in his lust-clouded mind, that it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you when he pumps her full of his cum, jerking his hips rapidly and causing the excess to seep from around the edges of her slit and down her ass.

“Hajime.” You panic but don’t get up from your seat, “We said–”

“I know, I know.” He grunts, aware of your concern but dismissing it at the same time. In all honesty, he thought he could resist the temptation, but he didn’t. So, what? You didn’t say a thing when he slipped inside without a condom–even after you asked him to. “I couldn’t, okay?”

You immediately fall silent, not knowing what else to say. What do you even say in a moment like this?

Her laughter makes your body go cold. She’s not even looking at you, her eyes set on your husband’s features. 

“Relax, girl. I’m on the pill.” She’s interrupted by his kiss, way too tender for your liking, as he moves her legs down his shoulders, causing his length to slip out of her with a wet pop. His hands swiftly move her so she’s lying on her side, facing you, while he’s behind her. Her eyes finally look at you right as he lifts her leg and guides himself back inside her with a raspy groan, her smirk faltering and eyes rolling back once he sets a languid pace, his mouth latching onto her shoulder. “So we’re gonna do it again, and again, and again.”

And your husband smiles because he knows this is far from done. He hasn’t even made you lick his cum off of her yet.

[ccwritesninja]

Show you- Genma

A/N: Genma girlies come get ya'lls juice!!!!

CW: Smut, porn with plot, Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You're feeling insecure after receiving a new scar on a mission. Genma is determined to show you that he still finds you beautiful.

Read on Ao3

Despite his typical aloof demeanor, Genma’s eyes trailed you across the crowded bar. You were there with your squad, surely celebrating the success of your latest mission, though you didn’t seem quite as happy to be there as you normally did.

Genma saw it then, the minute you turned your head to respond to Raido. A puffy, jagged scar that ran from the corner of your right eye all the way down to your mouth.

His heart leapt in his chest. You had been injured.

You cast a glance over your shoulder, as if you sensed him staring. You met his dark brown eyes, something unreadable in your gaze. He lifted his hand in a casual wave, but you quickly glanced down and away from him. 

Mystified by your reaction, he turned back toward the bar. You never ignored him like that. 

Sure, you and Genma weren’t exactly in a relationship. You met each other’s needs, simple as that. Plenty of shinobi did it. Keeping up serious relationships was difficult when you disappeared on missions every other week, when there was a high chance that you would be returning to the village in a body-sealing scroll.

At first, it had been simple. He had never been interested in anything serious. He had always been content with jumping from bed to bed, finding one random girl at the bar after another. It was supposed to be the same with you.

He wasn’t sure when or how it happened, but you weren’t just another romantic tryst. Yes, you made him feel good physically. That fact was undeniable. He was obsessed with the way you felt wrapped around his cock, with the sound of your whimpers as he buried his head between your thighs.

But he also loved your laugh and the way you looked when you slept next to him, hair mussed and drooling onto his pillow. He relished the sharp, teasing remarks you leveled in his direction during nights out at the bar, and the way you felt in his arms when he woke, limbs tangled with yours, the morning after.

“Is there something wrong with Y/n?” he asked.

Kakashi, who was planted in the stool next to him, didn’t look up from his romance novel. For a moment, the only indication he heard Genma at all was a lazy, upward twitch of his brow. “You mean aside from the giant scar on her face?”

Genma frowned. “She totally just ignored me.”

“Maybe she’s got more important things on her mind.”

“Like what?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the mission she was just permanently disfigured on? I doubt she’s concerned with wetting your dick right now.”

Genma jerked back at the bluntness of Kakashi’s remark. “That’s not…”

That’s not all we are, Genma wanted to say.

“Isn’t it?” Kakashi pressed, still engrossed in that stupid book. He flipped to the next page, only half listening.

“I’m worried about her, not me,” Genma insisted.

Kakashi glanced up at him now. His visible eye crinkled slightly in amusement. “Maybe you should tell her that.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He rose from the bar once more, snatching up the beer he had been nursing when he first saw you enter. As he pushed his way through the throng of drunken, sweaty shinobi, he saw you sitting at a long table with your squad. 

He recognized one of your purple-haired teammates, Yugao Uzuki, as she raised a glass in a toast.

“To Y/n,” she announced. “Without you, I wouldn’t be here.”

“To Y/n,” your team echoed. 

“Genma!” Yamato called, as he watched the other shinobi approach. “Come have a drink with us.”

He gestured to the free seat next to you. Genma grinned, but you visibly stiffened as he approached. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you muttered.

He watched, dejected, as you slipped out of your seat. You disappeared into the crowd.

Yugao offered him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not feeling herself. She took a kunai to the face for me. Totally saved my life, but…well, you saw.”

“It was badass,” Raido told him. “She didn’t even scream.”

Genma frowned. “I’m gonna go check on her.”

He pushed up from the table and worked his way toward the bathrooms. He waited for you to exit, leaning against the wall of the dimly-lit hallway. His teeth clicked thoughtfully against the senbon between his lips. The scar was prominent, but it didn’t change the fact that you were beautiful. Nothing would ever change that.

You exited the bathroom, and Genma perked up. He expected you to at least pause and acknowledge him as you walked by, but you kept moving, as if you hadn’t even seen him. His hand shot out before you could pass him completely. He gently grasped your wrist and spun you around to face him. 

“Hey, wait.”

“Genma,” you complained. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if you’re alright.” His thumb gently traced the skin of your wrist, stroking across your pulse point. “I was worried about you.”

Your brow furrowed. “Worried?”

“Is that so wrong?”

“I guess not, but I’m fine. I just…I don’t want company right now.”

You tugged your wrist from his fingers. He let you go, sliding his hands back into his pockets. “Did I do something to piss you off?” 

A twinge of guilt spread through you. “No. You didn’t.”

He nodded. “You know, even if you’re not trying to fuck me, you don’t have to avoid me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I know.”

He pursed his lips. “It’s not that scar on your face, is it?”

Heat shot into your cheeks. Genma leaned closer, peering down at you with those dark, knowing eyes. “Because you can’t actually think that I’d care about something like that, right?”

Shame washed through you at the statement. It wasn’t like you and Genma were dating. You hadn’t exactly thought he was shallow, but you couldn’t deny that the scar was jarring. 

The shock and curiosity that filled everyone’s gaze when they looked your way was unmistakable. In the days since you had gotten it, you had become increasingly self-conscious. 

Civilians quickly averted their gazes when they happened to look your way. Children stared, too young to know better. Even your fellow shinobi probed you for the battle story. Always with eyes full of reverence, but it still made you uncomfortable.

Maybe it was shallow on your part, to mourn the unmarred beauty you had taken for granted. It also wasn’t fair to Genma to assume his feelings, but surely he couldn’t find the jagged, twisting scar attractive?

“You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

Was he only saying that to be kind? Despite how often he joked around, Genma was fairly perceptive. He was excellent at reading people and saying what they wanted to hear. Was he doing the same thing for you now?

“Thanks. I’ll, uh…I’ll see you around.”

He frowned as he watched you turn and disappear back into the crowd. You just kept running away from him. He could tell that you didn’t believe in the sincerity of his words. Was that his fault? Had he not told you enough that he found you attractive before? Did he joke around too much for you to take him seriously at all?

Whatever the reason, he was going to fix it.

When he arrived back at your table, Yugao explained that you decided to head out early and go home. Genma downed the rest of his beer, said a quick goodbye to Kakashi, and slipped out into the cool night. If you were running from him, he would just have to go after you.

—

You tugged the fluffy towel around yourself and stepped out of the shower. When you slipped out of the bathroom, you yelped at the sight of a figure splayed out in the middle of your bed.

Genma was lying there, hands placed casually behind his head. He rested back against your pillows as comfortably as if they were his own.

He must have hirashined inside, bypassing any traps and the front door altogether. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before, and at least this time he was fully clothed, but you couldn’t help the sense of dread that filled your stomach.

“What are you doing here?”

He mockingly clutched at his chest. “Ouch.”

You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t I tell you I want to be alone tonight?”

“Yeah, you did, but I can tell when you’re lying to me.”

You swallowed. Why did he have to be so perceptive? Why wouldn’t he just let this go? It wasn’t like you were in an actual relationship.

“You don’t want to be alone, you just don’t want me to look at you.”

He pushed himself up from the mattress, coming to stand in front of you “You’re impossible not to look at.”

“Trust me, I know,” you muttered, glancing down toward the carpet. 

“No.” His fingers came up to grasp your chin, tilting your head back up to face him. “Not like that. You’re stunning. You always have been, always will be.”

He thumb stroked over the pink, raised skin of the scar. The act was so tender, so purposeful, that it made a vivid blush rise to your cheeks. It was decidedly un-Genma-like. 

He didn’t do things softly.

“This doesn’t change that,” he continued. “This is the mark of a battle won. That only makes you more beautiful to me.

He cupped the side of your face. You fought the urge to look away.

“If you really want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave.”

His lips slammed against yours in an instant, hot and persistent. He walked you backward, gently easing you back onto your soft mattress. His fingers curled around the cotton, tugging the towel free from your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your neck. “Every part of you. I’ll show you.”

He peppered a trail of kisses down your body, starting at the top of your scar. His lips traveled down, setting each new spot on your skin ablaze, until he finally paused between your legs. 

His fingers began curling inside of you as his tongue licked hot, wet strokes against your clit.

A soft whimper escaped from your lips.

Genma grinned between your legs, satisfied that he had gotten you to relinquish control, at least a little bit. 

“That’s it, pretty girl.”

He pulled his fingers out of you for a moment. He laughed softly at the disappointed whine that left your lips.

You heard a soft, slurping sound, and then he was delving back inside you. This time, a third finger, slick with his spit, began to circle the rim of your ass. 

Genma relished your soft moans as he slid the finger in. He stroked against your tight, hot walls, growing harder with every whimper that escaped from your lips. You were so full.

You let your head fall back against the pillows, any hesitancy gone as Genma fanned the fire building inside your lower belly. He always knew exactly how to touch you. He was so purposeful and skilled with his movements that everything else just seemed to fade away. 

The world was reduced to just the two of you, and the pleasure you felt.

Soon, your thighs were shaking and clamping around his head. He hummed in approval as you came, hips jerking against his mouth.

His free hand came up to rest on the soft skin, pinning your pelvis into the mattress as you trembled. He lapped at your clit, fingers still working, as you came down. 

Your palm came down to gently push at his head, becoming more frantic as he continued to work you through and past your orgasm.

“Genma,” you gasped. “S-stop.”

He pulled back, fingers slowing slightly, and met your desperate gaze with a smug one. 

“Throwing the towel in already, gorgeous? I think you can take another one.”

You shook your head, hips still jerking. “I want to fuck you.”

“Say no more.”

His pants and boxers were tugged off in an instant, freeing his cock, already standing at attention for you. He suddenly flipped the two of you, urging you into his lap with a gentle hand against the small of your back.

Genma watched as you sank down onto his cock. His fingers pressed into your hips, guiding you down. That last mission was a long one. He hadn’t stretched you open in an entire month, and he wanted to give you time to adjust to his size.

“Fuck,” he breathed. His mouth was practically watering as he watched himself disappear inside you. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He fought the selfish urge to buck into you immediately, instead letting you set your own pace. His patience was rewarded when you started to shift your hips, rolling them atop his own. You closed your eyes.

His hand came up to grasp your hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging. Now that you were comfortable with the pace, he bucked his hips to meet yours. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. “Look at me, baby.”

You opened your eyes, mouth parting in pleasure as you stared down at him. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. I wanna see those eyes…see what I’m doing to you.”

He rewarded you by reaching up and circling his thumb around your sensitive clit. You gasped his name.

“Yes, gorgeous?”

“I-ungh-feels so good…”

He hummed in agreement, tightening his grip on your hips. The pads of his fingers pressed into the smooth skin, guiding you, deepening the rhythm.

Your breasts bounced in front of him. He wanted to lean forward and capture one in his mouth, but that would have meant relinquishing his punishing grip on you. 

Your moans were growing louder and more frequent. He knew you were close, and he didn’t want to release his hold on you. Your walls were clenching around his cock so perfectly, fingers tugging at his shaggy hair. 

“Fuck,” he ground out. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

The pretty flush coloring your cheeks deepened. Genma grinned. He leaned up, capturing your lips with his. 

“So beautiful,” he mumbled between kisses. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Your hands were shaking as they grasped at him, grabbing for anything you could. His soft hair, the taut, chiseled muscles of his shoulders.

“That’s it baby, hold onto me.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, stuttering and shaking. “F-feels so g-good.”

You rocked against him, nails scratching at his back, his shoulders. One of his hands came down to grip the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing. He pried your face from his neck, tilting your head back with two fingers resting on your chin.

He couldn’t resist the urge to slip his thumb inside your mouth. You closed your lips around it, sucking.

His breath hitched in his throat. He almost came right there and then, but he tamped it down.

“Let me see it, baby. Let me see how pretty you look when you cum on my cock.”

Your eyes, dazed and shining, locked onto his. Your lips parted, letting out a desperate moan as you clenched around him. Genma tugged you down into a hot, messy kiss. The sensation of your tongue exploring his mouth and your release was enough to trigger his own. 

He came with a groan, spilling into the condom. You rocked your hips against his, milking him through his orgasm, until he softened inside you. 

Genmas gently eased you off of him, settling you down into the sheets at his side. He rolled over, and reached out. His thumb gently brushed against the skin of your face, tracing the scar once more. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that graced his lips as he watched you catch your breath. You looked so gorgeous like this, flushed and breathless. He couldn’t help but lean forward and press another kiss to the raised skin.

“You know I love you, right?”

You froze. Genma did the same, suddenly realizing what he had just admitted.

 “I-I mean, the way you look! I love the way you look!”

He looked absolutely stricken as he laid there next to you. His muscles had gone stiff with fear. Now it was his turn to blush. You reached out, gently capturing his chin with your fingers. 

He swallowed audibly as he looked over at you. You simply leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I love you too, Genma.”

[class1akids]

With that “short end of the stick” anon ask, I’m glad to see and hear you’re content with Shouto’s ending but a lot of people aren’t, how do you feel about the fact that literally no Todoroki died and Rei wants to get back with her abuser now? The fact that the entire Todoroki family seemingly just got pushed to the side, I feel like if HK had more time and better health the Todoroki family ‘arc’ would have been different and longer. I feel like things were kinda rushed and so things happen the way they did. That could be my opinion, but if that’s what happened then I feel like Shouto’s character never got ‘justice’ in a way.

All respectfully ofc! I’m very passionate about the way the Todoroki family was dealt with. <3

Sure, there are many things I don’t like about the Todoroki family ending, Rei’s ending, Touya’s ending, how Fuyumi didn’t get to speak to Touya, Natsuo praising Endeavor. These are all things I disliked, but I don’t see that as “Shouto’s arc” strictly speaking.

Shouto went to the hospital in chapter 44, he continued visiting his mom and did everything he could to make her better. The fact that at the end of the story she “chooses” (I put that in quotation marks bc it just happens without Hori ever thinking of her pov) to stay with Endeavor and chooses not to thank Shouto doesn’t ruin Shouto’s characte; it ruins Rei’s character.

Saying that “his mom sucks” therefore he’s not a good character denies a lot of what Shouto’s arc is fundamentally about. Before it became a “keeping up with the Todorokis”, it was aboht “it’s your power”. It was about recognising the shitty hand Shouto got dealt with in life and saying that dark origins aside, there is one thing he gets still gets to choose - how to use this power forced on him. He gets to decide the meaning of his own life and break out of the framework his father forced on him.

I feel like people equate Shouto with the Todoroki family. But much of his arc is about emancipation, about gaining a drive, a sense of self, about forming important and transformative relationships, about reclaiming his agency, about affirming his own existence - and to me, in this sense his arc is successful.

Shouto was born into a toxic family, suffering a deeply traumatic childhood, yet he still reaches out to everyone in that family with compassion, never gives up on them, does everything in his power to save them.

The fact that they don’t get a picture perfect happy ending, or that Shouto doesn’t get much reward from this - is a gloomy, “realistic” ending, but it doesn’t ruin Shouto’s character for me. No child can be held responsible for every choice five adults make around him.

I’m holding Shouto’s actions up against his own goals, and I find that they are coherent. He went in with clarity about what he wanted to do, and did everything he could to achieve it.

Just because he doesn’t get big external rewards, or constant praise like certain other characters doesn’t take away from his actions. I don’t like anyways Hori’s “tell don’t show” kind of storytelling and prefer to judge character arcs myself.

So yeah, I get that you are not happy with how the Todoroki family plot as a whole shook out. I’m not either. And I don’t think Shouto’s writing was perfect. But in all sincerity, out of the 4 main kids, I think his arc was the most coherent in terms of his goals, actions, and how the various themes, diverse relationships were pulled together.

It wasn’t the flashiest fight. It wasn’t the most rewarded thing endgames. It wasn’t lovingly drawn curves and big fat tears rendered in double pages. But it was the most coherent from start to finish. And I value that in the overall clusterfuck Act 3 turned out to be.

[inexorablyinsecure]

Sinclair watched as Kromer disappeared behind the door, and... Though there may have been something on his face, that he wasn't exactly sure how to interpret, he decide that he was better off simply... Not, interpreting it. Likely, she was just nervous about leaving him alone in her room; as he would have been leaving her alone in his. After all, how would he have explained the cursed... Blue Fumo, that calls him Gay and drinks all his Pepsi? That he keeps trying to punt to the moon, and yet keeps coming back?

He took a deep breath, as he dangled his legs on the edge of the bed, and... Took a moment to think. It had been a bit since he had actually gotten to do that, without worrying about anything showing on his face. He'd have to keep moving, so that she didn't think he was snooping, of course, but...

It would be nice to have a moment to think for a moment, away from all the craziness. The last few... Hours? Days? He wasn't sure how long it had been, but... The last period of time had been... A lot, hadn't it? He had... He had met Kromer, again. Franz Kromer. A friend that was... A friend that was dear to him, and yet who had ruined his life.

A friend... Who was new to Sinclair. Familiar, in some ways, but completely different. Completely foreign to him, in others. A friend who had been hurt by him in this world, rather than having been the one to hurt him. A friend who... Had many of the same fears. The same worries, he did. And though they didn't see eye to eye...

He was still confident in calling her his friend. He was still confident in reaching out to her, to doing everything he could to save her when she was hurt, or had lost her senses. And... She had shown him the same kindness, when he was hurt, broken, and wounded. When fear, guilt, and worry had consumed him, she...

He frowned.

He had failed her in both worlds. He had... Been the one to not try hard enough in his world, and the one who had made a mistake here. And yet here she was, helping him relax, helping him dress himself up, to... Try and explore his identity, like a good friend would. Here she was, having... If not forgiven him, been willing to humor him.

...He still felt guilty. About all of this. But he needed to get moving.

He took a moment, and changed out of the dress. He hadn't been the one to put it on his body, but he... Instinctively knew how it worked, in some way. It was as if it was an Identity of sorts, which he knew instinctively how to remove. He was... Thankful, for that, in a sense. It had been cute, but it seemed complicated at a first glance, and he had been afraid of trying to remove it.

It was only after he had slipped the plaid, skater-skirt on, as well as the blouse that Kromer had folded for him... The he took an experimental step up off the bed. His legs hurt, and the wound in his stomach throbbed. But even as he glanced down with fear, the bandages were holding. He wasn't bleeding through.

That was one less thing to worry about.

He paused for a moment, as he... Spun lightly, for a second. Feeling the shorter skirt float upwards with the movement, it was... Freeing. Gentle, soft movements made the fabric bounce in a way that was both foreign and yet... Fun. It felt natural, right. It felt... Cute, in a way. There was just one thing missing, and...

As he sat back down on the bed, he paused, and reached into the maid-dress' tatters. It had held all the contents of his uniform, and... He always kept an extra pair, for if they had to camp out, or if he got his shoes wet, or... Really anything else, so... He paused, as he pulled out a pair of socks. They... Weren't the socks he had packed into his uniform. He had packed just some simple white socks, and yet... These silk, white socks, easily came up to just above, or below his knees as he pulled them on. They were... A little embarrassing, and yet...

Comfortable.

He took a deep breath, and once more gave a slight twirl; watching the skirt almost hypnotically, as he turned towards the door, careful to dodge the various sharp implements in Kromer's room as he approached. It was only as he was about halfway there, to let her know that he was free...

That his PDA, still back on the bed, chimed out.

In an instant, before he could even react, there was a puff of smoke; a mirror shattering, and... As he turned around, and began to look over himself, to find out what changed... He found long, fluffy, blonde hair. Significantly longer, and a bit unkempt; his already fluffy hair seemed to only grow fluffier with length, mostly straight hair ending in unruly curls.

"Wh... What?! I... I'm not complaining, but... How does it- Why does it keep answering them on it's ow-"

The mirror shattered once more, and for a second, Sinclair seemed to pause. He winced, and gasped, as... Something wrapped itself around his throat, tight enough that he could feel it, but not enough to restrict breathing. It was... Leather. Soft, but he could feel pieces of metal within it. A clasp. A locking mechanism. A... Leather Collar?

Instinctively, he brought his hands up to the collar, and began to tug at it lightly; feeling it tug against his skin. He opened his mouth to vocalize a response, a question, as he shifted his head to the left in curiosity, and felt... Something on top of his head shift with it; extra weight, more than just the hair could account for. With a shaking hand, he shifted his pale hands upwards, to find...

A pair of... Dog-ears? And- And he could feel them, too? A-And hear...?! Through them...?! His breath caught in his throat as he stared idly, blankly forwards; tail half-cocked, wagging slowly... As the very fact that he had a tail set in, confusion permeating his entire being, as...

"A?"

A single, confused, angelic note left his body.

[tessa-liam]

Betrothed - Chapter 19

Marabelle Series

Choices – The Royal Romance, Book 3, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)  

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?  

Marabelle Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist  

Main Pairing – Crown Prince Liam Rys x F! OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor  

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M! OC Daniel Drake Walker x F! OC Melanie/Riley Brooks                

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, gun violence 

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement with sprinkles of Canon 

Chapter Summary – Arriving home, after celebrating her engagement with Liam, Sophie discovers the duplicity and treachery of her Uncle Barthelemy when visiting her home in Ramsford.

Music Inspiration: I Don’t Wanna Wait, David Guetta, OneRepublic  

Words: 4.5k 

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.  

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.  

A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue/content for this chapter and series. 

A/N4: Thank you @selina012 for pre-reading 

A/N5: My submission for: March Prompt Challenge, Prompt 8: Health condition @nosebleedclub 

A/N6: My submissions for: Monthly Writing Challenge, Prompt 4: Love or Duty; Prompt 13: A Pact made in secret 

The Royal Yacht 

It felt likely sometime after 6 A.M. The sweet, warm, Mediterranean air ...the sunlight streaming through the front windows, and the sensation of the weight on her body gradually brought Sophie out of her restful state.  

The gentle sway of the yacht rocked Sophie as she lay there, her eyes fluttering open to the soft hues of dawn. She instinctively tightened her grip on the blanket, allowing herself a few more precious moments in the cocoon of warmth she shared with Liam. She could hear the faint lapping of waves against the hull, a steady rhythm that seemed to mirror her own heartbeat. 

As her senses sharpened, she felt the strands of Liam’s hair tickling her neck and the tender pressure of his arm around her waist. The scent of the sea mingled with the faint remnants of his cologne, created an intoxicating blend that made her heart swell with longing. 

Turning her head slightly, she caught a glimpse of his serene face, still lost in the tranquility of sleep. There was a vulnerability to him; such a contrast to the regal and poised demeanor he showcased to the world. In this moment, Sophie felt an overwhelming bond with him—a shared intimacy that transcended titles and duties. 

She let her eyes roam the luxurious cabin, its opulence softened by the early morning light, and she thought of the journey ahead. Each intricate detail of the room reminded her of the life she was stepping into, a life filled with both privilege and responsibility. Sophie’s resolve strengthened as she imagined the future, a future where she would stand beside Liam, not just as his queen, but as his equal and partner. 

With a deep breath, she steeled herself for the day ahead, her heart brimming with the promise of love and the weight of impending duty. Groggily, she felt his arm draped across her side and the brush of fingertips on her breast. She gave an exhausted laugh, both because they had likely been entwined like that for hours, but because the words, 'good morning,' ran through her thoughts.  But reality beckoned, and the responsibilities that came with becoming a Duchess loomed over her thoughts. She knew that soon, the quiet mornings would be filled with duties and obligations. Sophie was determined to make Liam proud of her; to prove her abilities and leadership.  

Love and duty will intertwine. 

A secret pact will always be forever cherished between them, a promise that their love would remain untainted by the burdens of their titles.  

The gentle rocking of the yacht lulled her back into a drowsy state, cradled by the luxurious comfort of their shared bed. Her mind wandered to the events of the previous night, where the stars had witnessed Liam's heartfelt proposal, and their passionate embrace had sealed their commitment. Even now, with the first light of dawn filtering through the blinds, the memory of his earnest words and loving gaze made her heart flutter. The anticipation of their future together, filled with love and shared endeavors, made her feel indescribably happy. Despite the impending duties and the grandeur of their new roles, Sophie felt a deep sense of reassurance in Liam's presence, knowing that they would face everything together. As she lay there, soaking in the remnants of their intimacy, she found herself smiling at the thought of the life awaiting them in Cordonia. 

 After another half hour or so, she felt Liam gently pull his arm away, and then the press of his lips on her shoulder, silently told her that he had to get out of bed. She could feel the faint traces of regret in her at the lack of his skin, his scent, and the warmth he seemed to generate like the sun itself as her tired eyes roamed to her fiancé as he made for the bathroom. 

She curled in on the spot he had occupied a moment before, hearing the water switch on. She savored the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with the salty air of the sea, her fingers tracing the path his body had warmed on the bed. The gentle hum of the yacht’s engines served as a backdrop to her thoughts, each vibration reminding her of the adventure that lay ahead. Sophie felt a sense of yearning as she recalled the intensity of their connection, the unspoken promises that had passed between them in whispers and caresses. Her heart swelled with love and anticipation, knowing that every challenge and triumph would be met together. As the water in the bathroom continued to run, she felt a growing desire to be close to him once more, to feel his skin against hers, and to steal just a bit more time before the world demanded his attention. He would be wet and slippery, so irresistible, and warm enough to almost burn. 

Biting down on the edge of her lower lip, the spark that was waking her from her sleepy state told her she had no intentions of staying put. She didn't waste time in waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed as her eyes set themselves on the door, unblinking, a mischievous smile on her lips. Sophie shifted to stand, at once feeling the soreness between her legs; a reminder of their intimacy after his proposal the night before when Sophie willingly gave her virginity to the man she truly loved.  

Sophie slipped her arms into her silk robe as Liam came walking back out, his torso wrapped in a white towel.  

Liam's presence was magnetic, drawing Sophie’s attention across the room with an eagerness that belied her earlier tranquility. The air between them crackled with unspoken desire, each step bringing her closer to the man who had effortlessly claimed her heart and body. She moved with a grace that was almost feline. The sight of his lean and muscular physique, sculpted as a Greek God, captivated her senses. As their eyes met, the playful tease in Liam's words lit a fire within her. 

"You seem to like what you see," he murmured, his European accent adding a tantalizing edge to his voice. Her gaze roved over his newly shaven face, the strong lines of his neck and shoulders, the perfection of his torso. She undid her robe with deliberate slowness, revealing the soft curve of her thigh first, luring his attention.  

"My queen, come, and shower with me?" he invited, his voice a low growl of need ... using his deep, baritone voice she craved.  

"My king," Sophie replied coyly, tugging at the front of her silk robe before it gave and fell, her breasts bouncing lightly as the material slid down. Her smirk returned and her heart skipped a beat as Liam did nothing to resist her allure.  

 Liam let his fingers tangle themselves in her silken dark chocolate strands, coaxing her head up to then taste her lips. Feeling the jolt run through him with the sensation of her fingertips travelling down the ridges of his back; to caress his tight, rounded glutes. Liam groaned as Sophie wrapped her legs around his waist, as he hoisted her up, and walked them to the bathroom, closing the door behind them with his foot. 

Dukedom of Ramsford/House Beaumont 

The warm breeze whipped through the open window as the SUV drove down the paved drive, the late spring foliage whipping by in a flurry of greens and blues. Sophie gazed out at the verdant countryside, her thoughts wandering back to the night before. 

All too soon, the capital was fading in the distance, and as Sophie, along with her personal guard, Mara and driver drove down the empty roads, memories of the past several months started to drift into her mind. Everything that had led up to this point.  

There was still so much more ahead. A lifetime of happiness, adventures, challenges... Sophie reached her left hand up and watched the gleaming diamond’s facets. Everything was in place, yet there was one more piece of the puzzle left. One last place that beckoned her, promised its unconditional love and welcome. 

After Liam had announced their engagement to the nobles of Cordonia, the gossip and speculation had run rampant. To Sophie's surprise, she had quickly become an unofficial member of the royal family, her life splashed across tabloids and websites throughout the day. The nobility had shown support, and the public outpouring of support had astounded her. For many citizens, Liam and Sophie's engagement symbolized the promise of a new beginning. A promise of a peaceful, prosperous future. 

Even though their engagement aboard the Royal yacht was an instantaneous thing, every move they made after that was well thought-through, organized and presented in a way that is best for them and for Cordonia. No spontaneity was allowed, no surprise appearance and announcement as of now, while the wedding had to be official and handled with proper respect. They hadn't been able to truly enjoy the first weeks of their engagement; everything has been put aside to keep their family happy and Liam to step up the throne. They needed to be available to all corners of the nation to shake hands and answer questions. There was always an interview, an engagement, an inauguration or a press conference to attend and Liam had been rather busy with all that. 

Sophie had asked herself repeatedly, what does becoming a Duchess entail? Or, in her case, the Queen of Cordonia. At first, the thought of becoming royal was overwhelming and Liam’s advisors quickly began an array of crash courses on international affairs, while Queen Regina advised on royal traditions. Most days, it felt as if her brain might explode, she had so much crammed into her memory. She was grateful to have people to talk to and practice with, to ensure that everything was right. She wanted Liam to feel confident that he had chosen well. Having a personal staff was something she never thought she would have or need ... and now, quickly became the norm; an essential part of being Royal. 

And despite all this, she could not bring herself to feel anxious about anything. Today she had one errand left. She reached a familiar brick road that curved off from the main thoroughfare, heading straight toward a cluster of vineyards just visible in the distance. A smile grew across Sophie's face as the SUV drew near, bouncing along the uneven path. She turned down a grassy trail and watched the trees flash by, feeling that familiar sense of anticipation well inside her. 

Not much longer. 

Up ahead, the road curved toward an overgrown house, a mass of bricks and foliage intertwining before her.  

House Beaumont 

As the SUV parked at the base of the front steps, Sophie hopped out. For a moment, she took her time, drinking in the familiar sight of her home, the scent of freshly mown grass   and the sound of wind chimes in the distance. 

It was funny to think, when she first set foot in her family home in Cordonia, that she never would have imagined things would transform like this.  

Back when she lived in New York with her mom, she had never envisioned such an important life change was coming. If it weren't for the letter her mother wrote to her sister, Bethany shortly before she passed. The letter that told of the heartbreaking story of her mother’s battle with cancer and devastating prognosis.  

Would she be here today? 

Would Liam be in her arms with his ring around her finger? 

Looking out at the sprawl of the estate and up to the large bay windows of her bedroom, she couldn't help but think about how lucky she was. Cordonia may not have turned out quite the way that anyone would have predicted, but the seeds planted here have flourished and brought her to exactly the place she needed to be. Exactly to the man she was meant to meet. 

Inside the car, the buzzing of her phone alerted her to the time, and Sophie reached over the console to grab her cell. Glancing at the caller ID, she chuckled. 

"Is this about Liam's meeting starting?" she spoke, pulling herself away from her reminiscing. "Did it already start without him? What's up?" 

"Er," Maxwell panted on the other side of the line, the noises of rushing crowds in the background, the whine of his microphone carrying on the wind. "I can explain all this!" 

"Explain what? Where are you?" 

"At the palace," he shouted. There was a dull roaring sound, a squeal and then the loud pop of confetti canons. "The reporters are being seated and everyone is... settling down for the press conference." 

"Oh," she said with some satisfaction, looking around her estate and staring back at the winding road leading towards the city. "I'm just wrapping up the last bit here so I can come back and celebrate Liam’s coronation with you." 

"Can you wrap... faster?" Maxwell gasped, like he was running from an invisible foe, a horn honk blaring in the background as Maxwell let out a muffled yell. "Actually, forget that—take your time and I'll see you back at the palace?" 

Sophie couldn't suppress her laughter. "You'll be fine. Maxwell? I think Hana said your jacket was already at the stage, go change—" 

"Right. I'm on my way. But," he said hesitantly, before lowering his voice, "Liam says to hurry up." 

"I'll be done soon, I promise." 

Hanging up the phone, Sophie moved away from the SUV and walked to the front steps, jogging up the stairs and opening the door. She hadn't visited home since before summer started. So much had happened since, and she wondered if Bethany was busy and out tending to the grounds or if she was sitting inside the living room reading a book like she usually was. It was strange to think the last time she was here she was before the graduation. 

Taking the winding halls and stairs with Mara behind her, she walked toward the back of the estate. Suddenly, a muffled but distinct noise filled the silence; the voice of her aunt and Uncle Barthelemy shouting incoherently to one another. Not wanting to witness or interrupt a possible quarrel, Sophie quietly slipped off to the kitchen where she hoped the sound of her luggage rolling over a bump in the floor wouldn't interrupt.

After hearing a door slam the sound of both voices halted, silenced. Footsteps approached as her uncle strode out of his office door. 

"Excuse my rudeness," he said, not sounding the least apologetic, but still stopping, realizing that she was there. "Bethany," he called over his shoulder as he glanced back, not acknowledging her aunt who had followed out after him and cleared his throat. "Sophia," he greeted with a terse, somewhat formal nod. "Your sudden visit isn't... unappreciated." 

His gaze narrowed, looking past her shoulder at Mara. "If the last several weeks have taught you anything," he drawled, "it should be to think very carefully before doing or saying... certain things to the Royal family." 

His rigid posture spoke volumes to his level of impatience. 

Sophie sighed and turned toward her aunt. Bethany stayed silent and fixed on a spot of the wall beside her, chewing anxiously on a hangnail, a habit Sophie only saw her adopt during her nervousness.  

Bethany finally gave in and met her eyes, the grey streaks at the top of her hair and her reddish-purple attire complimenting her. "Oh, Sophie. You're... just in time. There's plenty of time before you're due at the coronation. Do you... want some tea? I just made a pot..." 

"Beth," her uncle tried to reason, running his hands over his wrinkles as Bethany moved forward. "Don't humor her." 

She looked pointedly at him, pursing her lips. 

"There's a matter we still haven't settled. What will we do?" 

Bethany blew out an exasperated sigh, whipping around to face Barthelemy, jabbing a finger towards him as she enunciated each syllable. 

"Why are you like this! Can't I enjoy this one good thing in this house while it lasts and make a cup of tea?!" She balled her hand in a fist and looked up. "Tea, please." 

With the boiling kettle as a sign to move, he pushed open the doors to his office and closed himself within its privacy, ending any hopes that Sophie had of picking up some extra details. Bethany filled up the cups, her motions mechanical. She handed one to Sophie, and they sat down to wait for the liquid inside to cool. 

At that moment, Sophie realized that there was no waitstaff in House Beaumont. Is that part of the mystery too? Did Uncle Barthelemy want to save on paychecks or something, she wondered idly, remembering a story from a book about someone hiding wealth by living simply... that was a bizarre thought. 

Barthelemy strode out of his office, adjusting his cufflinks and muttering under his breath as his icy gaze fell on Bethany, his countenance far less severe than when his discussion with her began. Bethany set the silver strainer on a clean cup and held it up in offering; her uncle shook his head, declining as he spoke. "We shouldn't keep Sophie waiting. We will finish this later." 

Bethany raised the kettle, her expression stubborn. "Your health." 

Barthelemy drank dutifully before walking over to where Sophie had set her tea down and cleared his throat, his hard countenance looking over the rim of his spectacles. He set his cup and saucer down carefully before motioning for her to begin her news. Sophie fiddled with her ring and grinned up at him, her thoughts returning to their past interactions. 

"Uncle Barthelemy ...Auntie Bethany.” 

Barthelemy's stern demeanor softened as he awaited Sophie's news. The room was charged with tension as Sophie met his gaze, hesitating before sharing her significant announcement. Her uncle's expression mixed curiosity and concern, while Aunt Bethany's excitement was clear. With a deep breath and a pounding heart, Sophie whispered, "I am a duchess." 

They both looked shocked and slowly it was dawning on Bethany what this meant. Her eyes brimmed with tears and a hand came to cover her mouth in utter surprise, not believing her ears. 

"Sophie," her aunt breathed out slowly as if she came back from a trance. 

Sophie swallowed, waiting for her uncle to interject. They were still waiting on him for confirmation or congratulations, but Barthelemy kept staring at Sophie silently with a firm expression. 

"Oh, that's lovely, dear! 

Barthelemy remained motionless, his gaze unwavering as it rested upon Sophie, the weight of his scrutiny felt by all in the room. Bethany's breath hitched, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. The air was thick with anticipation, a collective holding of breath as emotions surged and mingled. Finally, Barthelemy's stern expression softened slightly, and he nodded, an unspoken acknowledgment that left no room for doubt. 

"Not the queen yet," Sophie offered, waiting for the inevitable questions. 

Aunt Bethany covered her cheeks with her palms and grinned in absolute bewilderment. "It feels as though just yesterday I was welcoming you in Cordonia and now," she pressed a hand to Sophie's heart, "your heart is marrying the King." 

"So," her uncle began sardonically. There was a strained pause. "Are we expected to curtsey when we meet you, Your Highness?" 

"I hope you will treat me in the same manner you always have, I am your niece," Sophie answered easily, rising her cup, ignoring the ice in his voice. 

"Now isn't that rich," he remarked, raising his eyebrows at her, crossing his arms. "A few months of pampering and a fancy ball or two, and all of a sudden you forget who took you in." 

Sophie took a breath in preparation to fight back before Barthelemy clipped in again, cutting her off. 

"No," he held up his hand and paused, "Your marriage to the king will be beneficial to this house. With that I am pleased, and I also want to give my congratulations. I should give you fair warning though. Cordonia has not been without her share of infighting. Ever since the monarchial system was first conceived the royals of Cordonia have played a balancing act between competing interests in order to hold the power to rule." 

"So, what you are saying?" 

"Power comes with responsibility," her uncle reminded her with an insincere smirk and a single nod, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "I wish you well, your highness." 

The corners of his mouth lifted to a slight grimace. It was something. 

"That will be all." 

"Well," Aunt Bethany stepped forward, smiling fondly and extended an arm to her in greeting. 

Sophie looked down at her left hand, fingering the warm gold on her finger. 

"I love him so much," she looked up at her aunt's flushed cheeks and radiant eyes.

'She'd been drinking, Sophie could tell, the strong wine smell was mixed with something sharp on her breath.'

"Congratulations," Bethany threw her arms wide, but her embrace seemed hollow as it lacked enthusiasm. Sophie stood with her arms glued to her sides. 

Sophie caught Barthelemy roll his eyes and run his fingers through the little remaining hair he had before the door closed in her face, leaving them alone in the room. Sophie took a deep breath as Bethany sank back into the bench and buried her face into her hands. 

"Are you alright, Aunt Bethany?" Sophie questioned her as she slumped over and laid her cheek flat on the counter. She shrugged indifferently as a beeping sound interrupted the tranquility. "Just like that... it's been so quick." 

Sophie returned to her room at Beaumont Estate when the lunch was over. Feeling a little tired, she decided to take a break before packing up the remaining personal items into her luggage. She sank down gently and laid down on the soft bed and closed her eyes, trying to calm her thoughts. However, just as she was about to fall asleep, a faint sound of conversation crept through the wall and unexpectedly into her ears. 

The voice was low and vague, and seemed to come from the next room. Sophie perked her ears curiously, trying to make out what was being said. By and by she realized that they were Aunt Bethany's and Uncle Barthelemy's voices, and they seemed to be speaking not in a calm tone, but with a hint of suppressed anger. 

Sophie's heart was racing, and she leaned her ear against the wall, trying to hear better. Sure enough, the sound of the conversation soon became clear, but the content shocked her. 

"How can you play favorites like that!" Bethany's voice was full of anger and disappointment, "Bertrand is your elder son and the heir of Ramsford, and you openly support him ...I have nothing to say about that. But what about Maxwell? He's our child too! You're like a stranger to him, and you've always been a terrible father and husband for years!" 

Barthelemy's voice was cold and dismissive: "Maxwell? He's just a spare son, eating his head off and doing nothing. It's a disgrace that the Beaumont family has a son like that! ' 

"You... How can you say that about him!" Bethany's voice trembled with grief. "Maxwell is your son! Are you worthy of me by being so cold to him? Is it worthy of all these years of our marriage?!" 

Barthelemy's voice was even grimmer: "Marriage? Well, it was just a trade. How much good do you think your family can do me? Now Bertrand is old enough to need you out of the family business. As for Maxwell, he's nothing!" 

"Shame on you!" Bethany roared, "I will no longer tolerate your duplicity with me and my family! I'm gonna tell everyone the real reason you've been in a nursing home so long! I'll show them your true face!" 

This sentence is like a bomb, that instantly brought the temperature in the room to a boiling point. 

"Don't you dare!" Barthelemy's voice went up an octave and threatened viciously, "Don't forget who you are, Bethany. If you dare to tell anyone, I will make your and Maxwell's life a living hell!" 

Then there was a violent quarrel, mingled with slamming doors and heavy footsteps. Soon a muffled cry faded away. Clearly, it was that Aunt Bethany had left the room. 

Sophie's heart sank, deeply shocked and disturbed by the actions of her uncle, Barthelemy, and even more saddened for her aunt. Her heart felt like a big stone, and she couldn't breathe. But she also knew that it wasn't a good idea to ask Bethany directly, since she was on the verge of an emotional breakdown after such a furious fight. 

Sophie sat up, took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself. She picked up her phone, hesitated, and then sent Maxwell a message:

"Max, do you have a minute? I have something to tell you. See you in the garden?" 

Soon after, the phone vibrated and Maxwell replied,

"Sure, I'll be there. Let me know when you are back at the palace." 

Sophie put down her phone, stood up, arranged her clothes, and slowly walked out of the room to the SUV downstairs. She was full of doubts and worries, not knowing what was in store for her, but she knew she had to face it. 

☆☆☆

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Liam x Sophie: @snoopdogcone @jared2612

[persephoneggsy]

Hi! 13 or 27 for the Rook Story Time prompts, if you want!

13. Rook visiting a place they love.

After she took her seat, Phryne closed her eyes, letting the familiar sounds and sensations wash over her. The orchestra tuning their instruments, the indistinct chatter of the gathered audience; the luxurious feel of the upholstered seats — velvet, imported directly from Orlais, and just as plush as she remembered.

She heard a low chuckle. Opening her eyes, she saw Emmrich settle into the seat beside her. He was dressed even more finely than usual, trading his professorial coat for a more formal suit, to match the upscale environs they were now in. Phryne herself was wearing a fine dress of sumptuous black silk, and as a rare treat, most of her grave gold was on display.

“Something funny?” she asked. “The performance hasn’t even started yet.”

“Not funny,” he clarified, smiling. “Rather, I’m charmed. You seem so content here.”

She returned his smile, then directed her gaze to the grand sight before them. From their balcony seats, they had an impressive view of the entire Royal Nevarran Theater. It was packed tonight, the crowds clamoring to see a rare treat: a brand new, original production from a famous yet reclusive playwright.

“I was eight the first time I came here,” she spoke softly. “Mother took me to see a performance of The Lady and the Dragon Hunter.”

Emmrich raised an eyebrow, though he looked more amused than anything else. “Many would not consider that particular piece appropriate for a child. As I recall, it’s a bit… convoluted.”

“Mother was confident in my ability to understand the deeper themes and symbolism,” Phryne sniffed, adopting a haughty expression that earned another laugh from her beau.

“And did you?”

Her imperious look dropped, in favor of an impish grin. “Eventually, after a few repeat viewings. At first, I was just dazzled by the dancers, the sets, the costumes… the, dare I say, theatricality of it all.” Phryne sighed dreamily. “I begged my mother to take me to another show practically every month.”

“And thus, the start of your lifelong infatuation with the theater.” Emmrich hummed thoughtfully.

“Meaning, as far as dates go, you picked the perfect place, handsome.” Phryne leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. Though it was little more than a brief touching of lips, and they’d done much, much more than that before, heat rose to Emmrich’s face and he looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Yes, well…” he cleared his throat. “I confess I cannot take all the credit. I did ask your daughter for ideas…”

Phryne’s grin grew wider. Her daughter Elke was once Emmrich’s student, and so the topic of his relationship with her mother was still an awkward one to broach. That he’d done so to plan a perfect date both amused and charmed her. But before she could ask how that conversation had gone, the lights all around the theater had dimmed, and the orchestra began to play a rousing opening number.

Her attention snapped to the stage as she leaned forward in her seat, eager to see a show in her favorite theater after being away for over a year. So rapt was she that she failed to notice Emmrich’s fond, adoring smile centered on not the stage, but Phryne herself. She did, however, feel his hand slip into hers, their fingers entwining.

She squeezed his hand. Later, she would thank him properly for this little treat of an evening, a much needed distraction in the hectic maelstrom that had become their lives as of late.

But for now, the actors had taken to the stage, and Phryne let herself feel eight years old again, enjoying the magic of the theater as if it were the very first time.

Rook Story Time Prompts

[lala-blahblah]

I will never make this because it would be for an audience of one (me) but ever since reading "If we Were Villains" (story about serious drama kids in college who perform shakespeare and deal with a murder) I have been entertaining the thought of a crack fic crossover with High School Musical The Musical The Series where the staff decides they will no longer put on shakespeare after the tragic accident that happened at Thanksgiving, because Shakespeare plays would only increase the tension and drama. So they hire Ms. Jen who decides their spring play will actually be High School Musical (which exists in the 90s in this universe) and it ruins the vibe so much that everyone gives up on being dark and mysterious because they're universally pissed at Ms Jen for making them learn choreoraphed basketball dancing.