#sorry i know it's been a day but i'm still laughing

[scarletttries]

When Baldur's Gate 3 Companions Fall in Love...(Baldur's Gate 3 Request)

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Wyll Ravengard x Reader, Gale Dekarios x Reader, Shadowheart x Reader, Karlach x Reader

Author's Note: It's been a while! I haven't posted in a while but I've got some time at the moment and I'm just finishing a first playthrough of BG3 so wanted to write some headcanons for our charming companions. Consider me open for any BG3 request too, let me know if you want to see more pieces like this :)

Astarion:

- Travelling with you makes Astarion feel grateful he's had hundreds of years to perfect his flirting technique. He knows exactly how to let you know what he's thinking without ever giving away too much of himself, how to flash his smile without ever lowering his guard. He thinks once again he knows exactly how to capture your attention, and possibly your body, without losing an ounce of control. That is until you say something that catches him completely off guard...

- "I'm really sorry to hear that." You should have laughed at his expense, his self-deprecating humour and haunted tales from his past worn like the toughest armour over silky open shirts. But you hadn't laughed, or scoffed, or replied with some equivalently sarcastic tone. Instead you'd offered empathy, a warm look and an extended hand that somehow didn't feel like pity to Astarion either.

"Well that's enough self-pity for tonight my dear." He quickly excused himself from the campfire, turning his back as he entered his tent to hide any visible blush his cheeks may muster from the way you said good night. Of course his blood didn't circulate that way any more, but he was almost sure he could feel his heart rising in his chest as it had when he was still a mortal man. No, this didn't feel right at all.

- It would be easy for Astarion to pretend he was only interested in a night of carnal pleasures with you because of all the beauty you possess, and he'll let everyone else think him a shallow man just the same. But when he lets his mind wander freely it's your kindness he finds himself dwelling on, or your firm but fair moral code that seems to carry you through these intrepid lands without doubt or tribulation. He almost wishes he had met you sooner, so sure that his life (and after-life) could have turned out quite different with you by his side at those strange early steps.

- Suddenly all his effortless flirting feels a lot more challenging and he can't decide if he should risk a small amount of sincerity to let you know how we feels, or just to double down on letting you know one night with him would ruin you for any other lover. Luckily both approaches are met with the affection he craves, and slowly but surely Astarion starts to feel like he might be able to have something real for once.

Wyll:

- Ever the hopeless romantic, Wyll was already a firm believer in love at first sight by the time he ran into you and experienced it firsthand. He fears he cannot be too bold, his staunch commitment to his duties governing his life in a way that does not leave much room for any other kind of commitment. He tries to let his feelings settle at the back of his mind, in the hopes that in time they will become nothing but a dull ache he can learn to live with.

- That could not be less of the case for poor Wyll though, your face filling his every nightly dream and your voice echoing through his mind in every moment of silence. His heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing day you travel together and soon it feels almost inevitable that he will be yours, even if he can't quite bring himself to admit it yet. Once he has accepted that thought he must wrestle with the possibility that you might not feel the same and you will be added to his list of those he cares for most that have rejected him with scorn.

- Still he lets the lighter thoughts carry him through the toughest of times; what it might be like to hear you offer your own feelings back, how it would feel to see you smile only for him, what kind of life the two of you might be able to build in a simpler times, what he could finally do if you agreed to a wedding night together. He lets himself ruminate on that more often that he'd like to admit, all gentlemanly efforts banished from his mind when he sees you walk around his camp.

- While he builds up the courage to make his feelings known, you might catch him practicing the steps of an intricate dance one night when he thinks everyone is fast asleep.

Gale:

- Gale has known love and loss before, the intensity of his past life making him consider keeping his heart closed off from others forevermore. But the gods have a funny way of keeping Gale on his toes, and introducing him to you certainly did that.

- At first you are just the warmest of friends to him: an ever-willing audience for his lifetime of tales and knowledge, a reliable companion for the throes of battle, a selfless treasure seeker who helps him fend off hunger. But over time he finds himself desperately scanning his mind for more and more facts that it would be worth waking you up to share, more tales to capture your attention, anything the two of you might do together to keep your focus on him and no one else.

- It's about when he wonders if the two of you might just camp in one tent together, that he realises he no longer views you as simply his closest friend. No, you have long passed that threshold into an entirely new realm of love. It feels so different to anything he has felt before, like your company is the warmest summer breeze after decades of stormy lightning in his heart. It feels safe and easy to be with you, like he could be content with almost nothing as long as you were by his side, looking at him with your near endless appreciation. Gale can't be sure exactly what to do about it, but he hopes the next time you draw back the opening on your tent and usher him in for another night of exchanging tales, that you might permit him to never leave.

Shadowheart:

- It's hard to know love when you barely know yourself. That's what Shadowheart tells herself when she finds her mind wandering back to you after your memorable first impression. She has so much to learn about herself, and while she's grateful for the reliable company and kind sounding-board you provide, there's simply no room in her life for anything more.

- And yet the more she uncovers about herself, the more important it seems to have you by her side. It's like she cannot exist in this new fully realised version of herself if she doesn't know you. If she doesn't get to see herself through your eyes, to hear what you think, to have your presence beside her as he continues to take more and more steps forward down this path home.

- Without ever trying you have become the other half of Shadowheart, and by the time she realises it, she knows you must have the same awareness. There could be no way that you aren't as in tune to the depth of your bond as she is, leaving her only one question. Not if to address it. But when.

Karlach:

- Though Karlach may not have a traditional heart anymore, she is more than capable of falling for the travelling companion that seems to bring out the best in her at every step. After years spent working for the devil and his underlings, having someone in her life that strives to make the world better and put her strength to good use is like the first sip of water after countless nights in the arid desert of the hells.

- Karlach knows she's as strong as they come, so she finds her eyes frantically searching you out in battle, pushing herself on and raging forwards to always keep you safe, to get you behind her, to make sure you go on to keep her company another day.

- Her time in this plane of existence may be more limited than some of the other characters, but that only means Karlach knows how important it is to truly 'live.' While the other companions may bide their time and carefully deliberate how best to inform you of their inconvenient feelings, when Karlach knows your heart is true, she's going to let you know she is all yours at the earliest, and steamiest, opportunity.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Consider It Done

Prompt Day 28: Pining | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Brief Mention of Sex Acts, Steve Wanting His Nuggets, Bullshit | Tags: Future Fic, 1990s, Roommates, Friends With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Background Lumax, Platonic Stobin

"Dingus, are you listening?" 

Steve jerks his head towards Robin. He wasn't listening, he's not even sure what they were talking about. 

"Sorry, what?" Steve asks, and she's just looking at him, all-knowingly. So, her usual face.

"I said, take a picture it'll last longer," she says in his direction, and Steve jerks his head back to where he was looking. 

Eddie, holding the baby, Max and Lucas happy to have the break that Eddie's so good at providing. He was great at holding her when she was brand new, and oh so little, but now? At nearly a year, Eddie's really hitting his stride. Entertaining her, making her giggle with delight, so happy to be in his lap.

It's affected Steve more than he could have imagined. Steve loves that his nuggets are having nuggets. It doesn't seem possible, but they've grown up so much. They all have. 

And Eddie looks good, looks right, with that baby in his arms. It has just unleashed an unholy level of longing in Steve that he didn't know was even possible. 

Thing is, Steve knows that whatever they are isn't gonna be that, and he's accepted it. He really has. It's been years. They're fuck buddies. Roommates. Friends. Definitely not boyfriends, spouses or ever going to be parents together. That's not in the cards. Eddie was upfront when they fell into this thing that he wasn't ever gonna be any of those things.

Down for a good time, but not a long time.

And Steve understood. At least he thought he did, but now he's looking at Eddie holding a baby, the Eddie that he loves and shouldn't, and his heart yearns for more. 

It's been years, half-assedly together, and Steve could only guard his heart for so long.

"You're pining pretty loud," Robin hisses, and Steve tears his eyes away, focusing on her instead.

In the car on the ride home, Steve's quiet. Eddie's talking, jabbering away, and Steve loves him. Loves him more than he's ever loved anyone that isn't Robin, and as usual, he has no outlet for it. Nobody wants his love. He's a good fuck, a good friend, a good babysitter. But he's not good forever material. 

"You're awfully quiet," Eddie finally says, in between monologues.

"The baby's even cuter than the last time we saw her," Steve says. 

"Totally," Eddie agrees, "she's getting so fun."

"I want her. Well, not her. That's weird. One. I want one."

"Yeah, so you've said, Harrington. You wanted six last I knew," Eddie teases.

Six is never happening. Six was the dream of an overly optimistic nineteen-year-old. At twenty-nine, he just wants one. He wants to love others, to be loved back, wholly. Openly, freely, without feeling like he's too much.

"One would be good," Steve says.

"Well, I'm sure there's some woman out there itching to have a baby with you. You do have the good hair."

Steve laughs, because he's supposed to, but he doesn't want a baby with some random woman he doesn't know. He wants a baby with Eddie. He wants a life with Eddie, and Eddie isn't on board with that.

And Steve hates it. Hates that they are so far from the same page it isn't even funny. 

"I want a baby with you," Steve says, and then squeezes the steering wheel. Fuck. 

Eddie laughs, "Well, we don't exactly have the parts for that. But we can still practice until you find somebody better equipped."

Steve's defeated, done. "There is nobody better. I want you. You don't want me, but I want you. And yeah, it's bullshit, I know."

"Steve…" Eddie trails off.

"Just forget it."

Eddie's quiet for the rest of the ride, and Steve wonders if he's trying to decide which of them will have to move out of the apartment, just like Steve is doing. He could stay with Robin for a while, her girlfriend would welcome him on a short-term basis, he's sure.

Steve's facedown on his bed, when the door swings open. 

"I can't forget it," Eddie announces loudly. 

"Can't forget what?" Steve asks, voice muffled by his pillow. 

"That you want me," Eddie says, and if Steve wasn't already facedown on the bed, he'd want to hide from the shame of it all.

"Sorry," Steve mumbles, but he's only sorry that he's made it weird. 

"Don't be sorry, be honest," Eddie says, and Steve doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about. Steve's been honest, that's why they're in the uncomfortable situation in the first place.

He feels Eddie's knee hit the bed, and it shakes as Eddie crawls across the mattress, then he's on Steve's back. Chest to his back, his arms snaking all along Steve's exposed skin, to cover Steve's arms all the way to his hands.

Eddie's chin is slotted against his neck, touching him in all the places he can reach, and Steve hates – and loves – how much this grounds him. 

"You're in love with me?" Eddie asks. "You don't just love me as your eccentric roommate that enthusiastically sucks your cock?"

Steve laughs, the weight of Eddie pinning him to the bed.

"Well, I love that, too."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Eddie asks.

"You told me what this wasn't," Steve says.

Eddie lets out an indigent sound, "That was a dirty lie to protect myself, Harrington! You're supposed to know me better than that!"

He squeezes the tops of Steve's hands with his own, "I've loved you the whole time, you dickhead."

Steve wants to believe it, wants to throw everything he has into it.

He will. There's no other option.

"Well, I've loved you the whole time, too, you dickhead," Steve mimics.

Eddie laughs in his ear, pressing his lips to the side of Steve's face, "We can have a baby. We can get married. Anything you want, trust me, I want it more."

And Steve smiles into the pillow, "Okay. Let's do that."

"Consider it done, Harrington."

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: Special thanks to @griefabyss69 for throwing out this pining plot idea (Steve pining for a family after seeing Eddie with Lumax's baby) after I was complaining yesterday that my first fic for this prompt outgrew the 1000 word limit, and now I needed to start over last minute. That doesn't sound like me at all, does it? 🤣 (It'll work out okay, since it will also works for one of my bingo prompts, so I'll continue it for that!)

[mxtheialurks]

I'm here, baby. Avis Amberg x !Singer Reader

Hello there, so I noticed there were not a lot of Patti LuPone fics. Or... perhaps I have already read all of them...? But here it is, a 'Hollywood' fanfic between Avis Amberg and !Singer Reader.

Word count: 2928 Warnings: none

------------------------------------------------------------

“Get your head out of the gutter, kid!” Ernie yells, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look down and realize with a jolt that you’ve overfilled a customer’s gas tank, the fuel spilling over the edges.

“Oh my God, Ernie! I’m so sorry, I—”

Ernie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Save it, kid. Go to my office. We need to have a little chat,” he says, his voice calm but heavy with disappointment.

From the small office window, you watch as Ernie talks to the man whose car you overfilled. Your stomach twists in knots as the man laughs, pulls out a crisp hundred-dollar bill, and drives off, still chuckling.

Inside, you sit anxiously, rubbing your temples as your mind spirals. Am I going to get fired? Suspended without pay? The possibilities whirl around your head like a storm until Ernie finally walks in. He lights a cigarette, inhales deeply, then coughs out the smoke.

Before you can say a word, he cuts you off. “Alright, what’s going on with you, Y/N? You’ve been so out of it lately. Did that guy say something to you? Something about... Dreamland?”

Your heart races, and a nervous sweat beads on your forehead. Ernie notices immediately, his expression softening as he drops to one knee in front of you.

“Tell me,” he says gently. “Did he?”

Tears spring to your eyes, and your voice wavers as you manage to stammer, “Yes, and I—I just froze...”

Without hesitation, Ernie pulls you into a hug, his large arms wrapping around you protectively. “There, there, kid,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You know you don’t have to do anything like that, right? You’re here to help me out, not deal with people looking for a good time. That is not why you’re here.” He reminds you. 

He pulls back, his voice breaking slightly as he continues, “I know how hard it’s been at home since your mom—my sister—passed away.”

You sniffle, wiping your eyes, as Ernie stands up and pats your shoulder. “The guy whose tank you overfilled? He’s an old buddy of mine. Didn’t realize you were Martha’s daughter until I told him. He laughed it off and even handed me a hundred bucks as an apology.”

He reaches into his shirt pocket, pulls out the bill, and presses it into your hand. “Now, go wipe those tears and buy yourself something nice, okay?”

A small smile breaks through your tears as you hug him tightly.

“Happy 23rd birthday, kid,” he says softly, kissing your forehead.

--------------------------------

After shedding your gas station uniform, you head to the town’s boutique, Uncle Ernie’s words ringing in your ears. It’s not often you get the chance—or the means—to splurge on yourself.

The boutique feels like another world, the faint scent of vanilla candles mixing with the polished wood floors and soft hum of instrumental music. Your gaze drifts instinctively to the rack where that dress once hung.

You’ve been dreaming about it for months—a red dress with a daring slit that cuts mid-thigh. It was perfect in every way, except for the price tag. You’d promised yourself you’d buy it someday, but that day never came. Life has a way of pushing dreams aside for bills and groceries.

“Looking for something, miss?” a cheerful clerk asks, breaking your thoughts.

“Yes,” you reply, hesitantly. “Do you still have that red dress? The one with the slit—”

Before you can finish, she nods knowingly. “Wait here.”

You tap your fingers against the counter as she disappears into the back. The minutes stretch long, and your heart pounds with a mix of hope and apprehension. Then she returns, holding it.

“Here you go,” she says with a smile, presenting the dress like it’s a treasure.

Your breath catches as you take it in your hands. The fabric is even softer than you remember, the color more vibrant. Without a second thought, you pull out your wallet, the crisp bills from Uncle Ernie making it possible.

Moments later, you step out of the boutique, a grin spreading across your face. The dress swings from your hand, a symbol of something rare and precious—joy that’s yours alone.

Back at your apartment, you hold the boutique bag in hand, still glowing with excitement when a voice startles you.

“What’d you get, kid?”

“AHHH!” you scream, nearly jumping out of your skin. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ernie! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaim, clutching your chest and gasping for air.

“What? Can’t an uncle visit his darling niece?” he replies, unbothered, taking a drag on his ever-present cigar.

“We just saw each other earlier! What do you want?” you ask, exasperated.

He chuckles, his laugh as gruff as his demeanor. “Well, kid, I figured you’d spend your birthday alone in this crappy apartment, so I’ve got a surprise for you. I’m taking you to dinner—me, you, Aunt Ellen, and my good friend Avis.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Avis? You mean Avis Amberg? The owner of Ace Studios?”

Ernie nods smugly.

“Why would a big shot like her come to a birthday dinner for someone she doesn’t even know? Ernie, I’m nobody—”

“Kid, nobody is nobody in this town,” he interrupts, jabbing the air for emphasis. “Once Avis meets you, she’ll see what I see—someone who’s something.”

You snort at his dramatics.

“Come on, Y/N,” he persists, rubbing your shoulders. “You’ve always wanted to be a singer, right? Who knows—maybe she’ll have you record backing tracks for her movies. Whaddya say, hmm?”

You let out a resigned sigh. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit!” he exclaims, slapping his thigh with glee. “Now doll up. Wear that sparkly red dress of yours—”

You freeze, narrowing your eyes at him. “Wait a minute. How do you know I have a ‘sparkly red dress’ in this bag?” You hold up the sheathed garment for emphasis.

Ernie smirks, his cigar bobbing in the corner of his mouth. “Kid, you’ve been gawking at that dress every time we passed Ursula’s boutique. You think I don’t notice? Besides,” he adds with a mischievous waggle of his eyebrows, “Ursula and I go way back.”

Your face twists in disgust as you chuck a shoe at him. He ducks out of the way, laughing as he retreats toward the door.

“See you at seven, kid! Don’t be late!” he calls out before disappearing with a slam of the door.

You sigh, glancing at the dress. “This better be worth it,” you mutter, already dreading the evening ahead.

--------------------------------

Seven on the dot, just like Ernie said. You stand in front of the restaurant, purse clutched tightly in hand. The cool evening air does little to calm the nervous energy coursing through you. Dolled up and dressed to the nines, you mutter under your breath, “Simple birthday dinner, my ass.”

The thought of the Avis Amberg being inside makes your stomach twist. What if you say the wrong thing? Or laugh awkwardly?

After a minute of deliberation—and a deep, shaky breath—you step inside. Warm air envelops you, carrying with it the sweet and savory aromas of high-end cuisine. The soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses fills the room, but it does little to drown out your own thoughts.

At the front desk, you muster your courage. “Reservation for Ernest West?”

The receptionist smiles and nods, promptly leading you to a private room.

On the way there, your thoughts race. A private room? How much did Ernie shell out for this? And with Avis Amberg as an audience? You grip your purse tighter. Oh boy, this is going to be interesting.

The doors to the room swing open, revealing a warm and intimate space. Ernie is the first to greet you, his arms wide as he strides toward you with his trademark exuberance.

“There she is! The woman of the hour!” he exclaims, pulling you into a hearty hug.

Your eyes sweep over the table. To Ernie’s right sits Ellen Kincaid, his ever-gracious wife, offering you a warm smile. Beside Ellen is none other than Avis Amberg herself. The moment your gaze lands on her, it’s as though the world stops spinning.

Avis is a vision in red, every detail impeccable—from her perfectly coiffed updo to the shimmering jewelry that catches the light with every movement. You glance down at your own dress, also red, and feel a pang of insecurity. Great, of all colors to wear tonight...

But Avis is unfazed, her sharp eyes already reading you, assessing you in a way that makes your palms sweat.

Ernie, oblivious to your internal panic, guides you to the table and pulls out a chair. Ellen stands to greet you, kissing both your cheeks warmly, while Avis remains seated, her gaze fixed on you like a hawk sizing up its prey.

When your eyes finally meet, she smiles—a slow, deliberate curve of her lips. Extending her hand, she says, “And you must be the birthday girl.”

You take her hand, shaking it a little too eagerly. “I am—”

“Avis Amberg,” you finish for her, your voice steady despite your nerves.

Her smile sharpens into a grin, her grip firm but elegant. “Well, well, looks like someone did their homework.”

You laugh awkwardly, the sound escaping before you can stop it. Realizing how unpolished it sounds, you quickly cease, pressing your lips together. Ernie catches it, grinning as he moves to his seat. He leans down to kiss Ellen, who playfully smacks his chest.

“Avis, you know us Wests. We always do our homework, ain’t that right, sweetheart?” he says with a wink in Ellen’s direction.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Yes, darling, you do. Oh, Avis, if I haven’t mentioned it yet, our darling Y/N here is an aspiring singer—with a voice that could bring down stadiums.”

Avis raises a perfectly arched brow, her red lips curving into a faint smile as she looks at you. “Hmm? If Ellen here speaks so highly of you, perhaps I should have you perform at one of my events.”

Your face flushes as a nervous smile spreads across your lips. “Oh no, Miss. Amberg, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you ramble, trying to wave off the compliment. “Singing is more of a hobby, really. I couldn’t possibly be as good as Ellen says.”

Ellen and Ernie exchange incredulous looks.

“Nonsense, kid!” Ernie exclaims, his voice booming with pride. “I’ve heard you sing plenty while working the register, and believe me, my customers stick around just to hear you. Take some credit for once, will ya?”

His laughter fills the room, and even Avis seems amused as she leans forward, her interest clearly piqued.

“You let your niece work at your gas station, Ernie?” she asks, her tone half-curious, half-teasing. “How is it that I’ve never seen her?”

Ernie smirks, waving his hand dismissively. “That’s because you never get out of your goddamn Cadillac, Avis!”

The table bursts into laughter, and for a moment, the tension in your chest eases. Still, the realization dawns on you: Avis Amberg is a regular at Golden Tip.

No wonder the boys at the station always seemed to have a little extra spring in their step, boasting about their big tips from “the lady in red.” So it was her all along—the powerful woman who spent money like it grew on trees.

As the laughter dies down, Avis rests her chin on her hand, her sharp gaze locking onto you. “Well, Y/N, it sounds like you’ve been hiding a talent that the world deserves to hear.”

Her words make your heart race, but the warmth in her tone sparks something new: hope.

“Thank you, Miss Amberg,” you say, your tone polite but still tinged with nervousness.

“Oh, baby,” she waves a hand dismissively, her bracelets jangling softly, “you may call me Avis. You’re making my back ache with all the pleasantries.”

You chuckle lightly, a genuine smile breaking through as you nod. “Well then, thank you, Avis.”

Her lips curl into a grin, pleased by your adjustment. “That’s better,” she says, leaning back in her chair with an air of satisfaction. “Now, tell me, Y/N—what’s your favorite song to sing?”

Her question catches you off guard, and you falter for a moment. “Oh, well, I guess it depends,” you say, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “I like singing jazz, mostly. Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald… their music speaks to me.”

Avis’s eyes light up, the mention of such timeless legends clearly striking a chord. “Ah, the classics,” she says, a touch of admiration in her voice. “Music that comes from the soul. You have good taste.”

Ernie beams at the exchange, clearly proud of you. “See, Avis? Told you the kid’s got it. I’d bet my bottom dollar she could belt out something right here and knock our socks off.”

You quickly shake your head, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Oh, no, I couldn’t! Not here, not now,” you stammer. “I mean, I’m flattered, but I’m not exactly… prepared.”

Ellen chimes in with a gentle laugh, “Oh, don’t mind Ernie. He loves putting people on the spot. But if you ever want to perform, Y/N, I’m sure Avis would love to hear you.”

Avis nods, swirling her glass of wine thoughtfully. “Indeed. There’s something about live music, especially when it comes from a genuine place. You’d be surprised how often talent like yours gets lost in the noise of this town.”

Her words carry weight, and for a moment, you feel as though she’s speaking directly to your deepest fears. Lost in the noise. Ernie, ever the optimist, claps his hands together. “Lost? Not this kid! She’s got a voice people’ll remember. Ain’t that right, Y/N?”

You give a shy smile, nodding slightly. “I guess so. I mean… I hope so.”

Avis’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before she raises her glass. “To hope, then. And to talent that deserves a stage.”

Everyone joins in the toast, raising their glasses with a clink. You sip your drink, the warmth of the moment settling into your chest. For the first time tonight, you feel like you truly belong at the table.

The dinner continued with laughter, stories, and a surprising ease that settled over the table. Ernie, true to form, dominated the conversation with his larger-than-life anecdotes, and Ellen balanced him out with her gentle humor. Avis occasionally chimed in, her remarks sharp and observant, but never unkind.

By the time dessert arrived, you were almost convinced you could get through the night without further incident. That is, until Avis set down her fork, leaned forward, and fixed you with a look that felt both intimidating and encouraging.

“Y/N,” she began, her tone measured, “tell me, what do you really want? In this town, I mean. Surely you’re not content to spend your life working at your uncle’s gas station.”

The question landed heavily, and the table went quiet. Ernie gave you a small nod of encouragement, while Ellen offered a reassuring smile.

You swallowed, your fingers gripping the edge of your napkin. “I… I want to sing,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to perform. To be out there in front of many people, the spotlight is only for me. My voice ringing deliciously in their ears, I want to become a broadway star” 

Avis studied you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Watching you enunciate every word, how your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. Her gaze lingers for a while there and when you finally finish she meets your eyes with enthusiasm. 

“Let me tell you something about this town,” she said, her voice soft but commanding. “It doesn’t matter who you know—or don’t know. What matters is how badly you want it and what you’re willing to do to get it. Talent can only take you so far. The rest? That’s grit.”

You nodded, absorbing her words, though a part of you still doubted your place in a world as ruthless as hers.

Avis seemed to sense this. “You’ve got a spark, Y/N. I can see it. The question is, what are you going to do with it?”

Before you could answer, Ernie jumped in, his voice full of enthusiasm. “That’s what I’ve been telling her! She’s got the goods, Avis. She just needs the right person to see it.”

Avis’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Well, Ernie, perhaps that person is sitting right here.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You mean…?”

“I mean,” Avis said, setting her glass down, “I’m planning a charity gala next month. I always need fresh talent for Ace Studios. I have been thinking about it, expanding from motion pictures to Broadway plays and musical numbers. It’s not a guarantee, but if you’re willing to audition, I could give you a shot.”

The room seemed to tilt as her words sank in. An audition? For Avis Amberg? It felt too good to be true.

You managed a shaky nod. “I—I’d love to. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Avis said, her tone playful but firm. “The real work starts now, baby.”

------------------------------------------------------------ A/N: Will do a part two or more if you're interested in reading more. Hehe.

[bokutosbabe]

hii <3 my top song was i miss u, im sorry by gracie abrams

NOW THIS IS A SONG I CAN WRITE ABT FOR HOURS

if your top song was i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams, i'd pair you with...

oliver aiku

જ⁀♡⊹｡° nothing happened in the way i wanted

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event - masterlist - ** THIS EVENT IS NOW CLOSED **

♡ content — oliver aiku x gn! reader, gn! reader, established relationship, late night call, oliver misses reader BAD, mentions of alcohol

♡ synopsis — oliver aiku's been haunted by your ghost since you broke up with him, little does he know, you've also been plagued by memories of him

The apartment hasn’t changed much since you left.

It’s been months—maybe a year, he doesn’t really keep track anymore. The days blend together like the city lights outside his window, faint glimmers in the haze of a life lived too fast. But he can still feel you here, like you never really left.

Every corner of the place holds a piece of you. The couch still smells faintly like your shampoo. There’s a chip in the kitchen counter from that night you got too animated with a wine bottle, laughing so hard he almost forgot to stop you before you knocked it over. The bedroom—the one he hasn’t slept in since—is worse. It’s a mausoleum of all the things he lost, haunted by the warmth that used to fill it.

Oliver leans against the doorway, staring at the unmade bed. You hated when he left it a mess, and yet here it is, sheets tangled and pillows scattered like he’s still waiting for you to come back and fix it.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up. How did he let it get this bad? How did he get this bad?

The answer comes like it always does: because he’s Oliver Aiku. The man who ruins good things. The man who knew how to charm you into his life but not how to keep you there.

He sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. The memories hit harder in the silence. The fights—god, the fights—play out like a movie reel he can’t turn off. Your voice, raised in frustration, asking him why he always had to pull away. Him, deflecting with a cocky grin or a dismissive comment, too scared to admit that you mattered more than he could handle.

“I miss fighting in your old apartment,” you’d said once, after one of those rare, quiet nights together. It was a joke, your way of saying you hated arguing but loved him too much to walk away. He didn’t realize then how close you were to the edge, how much it took for you to stay when he gave so little in return.

And now he misses it too. Misses you.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. For a second, his heart leaps—it’s a reflex, stupid and desperate—but of course it’s not you. It’s never you. He hasn’t heard your voice since the day you walked out, your face a mix of heartbreak and determination as you said, “I can’t keep waiting for you to grow up, Oliver.”

He still doesn’t know if he’s grown up.

The phone buzzes again. A text from a friend, probably asking him to hit the club. The thought makes him nauseous. He used to love the chaos, the noise, the way it drowned out everything real. Now it just feels hollow.

He picks up the phone, hesitates, and sets it back down.

You’re gone, but you’re still here—in the chipped counters, the unmade bed, the faint traces of your laugh that echo when he least expects it. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever let you go, or if he even wants to.

Oliver stands, his silhouette framed by the city lights. The night is eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic below. He runs a hand through his hair, his chest heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved.

The phone buzzes again, and his heart skips a beat when he sees your name.

It’s been months. Long enough that he’d convinced himself you hated him. Long enough that he’d tried to hate you, too—but failed miserably.

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. His thumb swipes across the screen, and he presses the phone to his ear, unsure if he even remembers how to breathe. “Hello?”

For a second, there’s only silence. Then, he hears your breath on the other end of the line, shaky and uneven. “Oliver.”

Just your voice—soft, hesitant, laced with something he can’t quite place—is enough to unravel him. His jaw tightens, his free hand balling into a fist at his side. “It’s late,” he says, his voice low and careful, because he doesn’t trust himself to say anything else.

“I know,” you whisper, and he can hear the faint hum of music in the background, the kind you used to play when the nights got too heavy. “I just... I don’t know why I called.”

He closes his eyes, leaning against the cold glass of the window. “Are you okay?”

You laugh, but it’s hollow, more like a sigh than anything else. “Do you really care?”

The question slices through him, sharp and cruel, even though he knows you don’t mean it that way. Of course he cares. He’s cared every single day since you left. But before he can find the words to say it, you’re speaking again, your voice cracking just slightly.

“I thought... I thought I’d hate you by now,” you admit, and he can picture you, curled up on your couch, staring at the phone like it’s something you wish you didn’t have to hold. “But I don’t. And that makes it worse.”

His breath hitches. He wants to say something, anything, but the words stick in his throat.

“I shouldn’t have called,” you say suddenly, a little sharper now, like you’re trying to pull yourself back together. “Just—forget it, okay?”

“No,” he says quickly, the word tumbling out before he can stop it. “Wait.”

The silence stretches, heavy and fragile, and he’s afraid you’ll hang up before he can figure out what to say. But then, softly, barely loud enough for him to hear, you whisper: “I miss you.”

His chest tightens, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” you add before he can respond, your voice trembling but resolute.

The line goes dead, and he’s left staring at the phone, your words echoing in his mind.

He sets it down gently, his hands shaking. For a long time, he just stands there, staring at the city lights that blur and smear through his tears. He doesn’t leave the apartment that night. Instead, he sits in the dark, letting the memories wash over him like a tide he’s too tired to fight.

And for the first time in his life, Oliver Aiku doesn’t try to run from the things he’s lost.

i would fold immediately for him, but yk i made reader stronger than i ever will be

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[midnight-mourning]

Snowy Snuggles

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 19❄️❄️

ahem, i saw the phrase cuddles and kisses and went ham, I would apologize but I think we all know that you people are going to eat it up, so enjoy!

Prompt: sun/moon’s systems freezing up because of the cold so reader decides ah… cuddles and kisses to the boyfriend(s) to warm them… sun and moon try to make it as unobvious as they can that theyre warmed up because they love love love reader’s cuddles but they are steeeadily starting to overheat because ohhh they love reader so much

Word Count: 1234

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You bend down and light the last candle, snuffing out the match a moment later and discarding it. The entire room is enveloped in a soft, warm light with the amount of candles you have in here. They're pretty, but they provide no heat. That, was something you were going to have to figure out yourself. 

There's an old wood stove still set up in the basement, but you only have a little bit of wood for it currently, you'd need to go out back tomorrow and chop some. For now, you'd just have to hope the house won't get too cold on you. 

It wasn't you that you were worried about, and this power outage wouldn't have been a big deal, if you and the boys hadn't just spent all day out in the snow, and had come inside expecting to warm up significantly. 

You spare them a glance, the light's just enough for Sun to be out, as he huddles under the pile of blankets you'd provided. Your heart twists with concern as you see him tremble. You're sure they'll be okay, it's just, not a great situation currently. 

"Hey." You softly call out. "Doing alright over there?"

Sun perks up, looking over to you. Tone more cheery than you think he actually is. "Of course, Sunshine! We're okay, I promise."

"You don't look okay to me." You walk over, cupping your hands around his faceplate. "This is all my fault, if I'd noticed the outage sooner I could have planned better. I'm so sorry."

Sun's rays flutter, not having the energy for his usual spinning. "Don't say that! We insisted on staying outside so long. It was a complete and total fluke that the power went out. Nothing you should be blaming yourself for, alright?" His hand reaches up for your wrist, leaning into your touch. 

"Okay,"—you sigh, then giggle as he kisses your wrist, you take a step back—"I'm gonna go grab my dinner, and then I'll be back."

Sun nods, and lets you go. 

You give him once last look, and hurry off into the kitchen. By the light of your phone's flashlight, you make yourself a sandwich or two, and pour a cup of cold coco. You check to see if there's any updates on when the electricity will be back, but you still have no signal. 

Deciding that that's not good enough, you search the cupboards and find your old storm radio, along with your regular one, and bring them and your food back with you from the kitchen. 

When you get back, you don't miss how Sun scrambles back from holding his hands over the candles on the coffee table. He feigns innocence, sinking back into the blanket as your frown deepens. There's got to be something you can do to help, and you have an idea in mind. 

You set everything down on the end table, turning on both radios. The storm radio doesn't have any updates, but the other softly plays holiday music, bringing some life to the living room. Then, you turn your focus to Sun, hands clasped. 

"Yes, Starshine?" He asks, a little on edge at the look on your face.

You wave your hand. "Open up that blanket, that's my spot."

It takes him a moment, then it clicks. "O-oh! Of course." He opens the blanket, and his arms. 

You all but hop into his lap, snuggling close as you wrap your arms around his neck. Then, you pull back and kiss him once, grinning. "Thought I'd provide the best heat I could think of. If that's alright?"

Sun's stare is blank, unmoving. Then, his rays spin rapidly and he nods several times. It makes you laugh as you reach over for your sandwich, snuggling further into his lap as he brings the blanket back around the two of you. 

"Sorry in advance for any crumbs, but after getting pelted with snowballs all day I'm kind of hungry." You take a bite, reveling in it for a second. For a cold sandwich, this slapped.

Sun chuckles, arms coming to rest around you. "I suppose just this once it's alright, special circumstances and all that."

"Good, because I wasn't asking." You snicker as he huffs. 

After finishing your sandwich, you get even cozier, entwining your fingers with Sun's and snuggling your head against his neck. 

Bored, and also feeling cheeky, you place a kiss to his neck, followed by another, and another. 

He stiffens and you grin to yourself, continuing with a squeeze to his hand. Eventually the position starts to ache, so you decide to turn around so you're straddling him. When you do so, you make eye contact and smirk. 

"Hi." You say. 

"Hi."

You interlock both your hands with his, leaning back in so that you're only inches apart. "Mind if I get back to work?"

"Wo-work?" Sun asks. 

You giggle. "Mmmhmm. I've got nothing better to do than sleep, and to be honest, I'm not really in the mood for that." You kiss the edge of his smile. "So, want to help me with that?"

Sun's hands squeeze yours, tight. For a moment, you swear you hear a low humming sound, but it's hard to tell with all the blankets and the radio. 

"Very much so, yes."

You grin again, closing the remaining small gap between the two of you. "Let's get to it then."

After, a plethora of kisses is exchanged between the two of you, and you think Sun has melted into the couch, you decide it's Moon's turn. 

"You ruined him, you know." Moon snickers, forehead against yours. "He's comatose in here."

You chuckle. "That was the intention."

"I hope you don't think it's going to work twice, Star."

Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers slinking between the wires there. When he shudders you pull one back, using it to grip his chin while you pout. "Are you sure? I'm gonna be real sad if it doesn't."

"Brat." Moon mutters, but with how he's avoiding eye contact you'd say you've already won. 

You lean in to kiss him only to hesitate, when he puts his hand up between you. 

"Oh, sorry, I wasn't—" He takes your head, and places it against his chest. 

Now closer, you can hear the noise from earlier, which you now understand was their internal fans. And it clicks what's happened. 

Your face starts to burn. "I see."

"We tried to hide it." Moon coughs. "But now it's becoming a problem."

You pause, then shift back to gape at him. "You're overheating? Are kidding me?"

Moon ducks his head and you can't help the astonished laugh you let out. Then, you hug him, shaking your head in disbelief. 

"Guess we don't have worry about freezing up after all, huh?"

"Don't start." He warns, but it's half-hearted, weak. 

You laugh again. "Okay, okay. No kissing for a bit then."

Quiet. 

"I can always go back out in the snow for a few minutes if you want..."

You scoff, baffled. "If I want? Excuse me, I think tha—"

Moon interrupts you by pulling you further into him, muttering something you can barely make out. 

And if you weren't so incredibly offended, you might have taken him up on that offer.

Emphasis on might. You are pretty cozy right now, regardless of being able to kiss them or not.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the request @vypridae!! I very much enjoyed writing more cuddly kissy fluffy things, and flustering the boys that too :)

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a

[vengefultakeover]

Sketch & Rein

My drafting table had a screw missing from the hinge that propped it up at the perfect angle. I had made it a habit not to draw with my face so close to the page so that I would inhale the graphite that dusted the surface of the paper, but now the top wobbled as the tip of my pencil drifted along my drawing and my straight line zigged. The model I was drawing was curvaceous, a close representation of the model that commissioned me a dress for a gala event that she would be attending with her husband. Our first meeting consisted of her showing me a wonderful selection of dresses that her eye had been drawn to and I used them as the pool for my inspiration.

"I want all of this to be accentuated." She said, referencing her figure. I loved her confidence, something I wish I had. She had every right to be confident, she was beautiful. The preliminary sketches I rendered were sent over and she loved all of the colorful works of art, which narrowed down very little for me, but I knew exactly what she would love despite it. The tip of my pencil reached the hemline and the table top creaked followed by an aggressive thunk that made the graphite snap.

"What the - " I closed my eyes, calmly reached for my inkwell pencil sharpener and listened to the blade shave off the wood to a point inside the red glass container. I abandoned the pencil in the cup hanging blissfully next to the table and ducked under it to find the source of my problem. My fingers slid over the metal pieces until I found an empty hole, one that, if filled, would have stabilized the desk. As my finger ran over it, my doorbell rang and I hit the back of my head with an angry huff. Quickly, I pulled a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer and placed it on the sore spot, opening the door to greet the stranger.

"Hey, are you Mike?" He asked, a bag slung over his shoulder, "I had called the other day about the extra room and we were supposed to meet today."

"Shit, I'm so sorry I completely forgot. You are - ?" I invited him in, adjusting the bag on my head before abandoning it on the table by the door.

"I'm Rein. Are you okay? That looks like it hurt." He chuckled.

"Oh yeah, just a bump. Want to check out the place?" I pointed towards the rest of the apartment and gave him a tour. "This is the kitchen, well stocked with vegetable ice packs, and this is the living room." I spun on my heels as I extended my arms to present the room like it was a Price is Right prize. "There are technically three bedrooms, but I use the downstairs as a studio. The other two are upstairs."

"Oh wow, three stories? This looks great," He peeked down the stairs into my studio, "When would I be able to move in? I'm looking for a place since I'll be starting school soon."

"School? Are you an undergrad?" I asked.

"Nah, I'm going to grad school. I'm going in for Architecture." He chuckled.

"That's awesome, I just got here for grad too. Fashion design." I sunk down into a chair in the living room, "I'll have to do whatever paperwork, but if you wanted to move in soon I'm sure it would be fine. The bedroom upstairs is ready whenever you’d like it."

"Oh? That's amazing. Yeah, I'd love to move in by the weekend. I want a couple of days to settle down. Maybe even get to know my cute roommate." He laughed. Did he really just say that? My cheeks flushed red and I suddenly felt warm all over.

“Oh, well, you're welcome to it. I'll email the landlord and just let them know I found the roommate and they'll send over the paperwork as soon as they decide to I guess. Move-in season is always really busy." I shrugged, face still warm from the cute roommate comment. He looked over the apartment again before heading to the door.

"I'll be over tomorrow to move in what I've got. It's just a couple of boxes and a bed. Nothing crazy." He stood in the doorway and I nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." He winked and then disappeared out into the parking lot. I returned to my studio and as I walked in I felt something hard dig into the heel of my foot. I stumbled over it, avoiding any more pain of my weight stepping on the missing loose screw that would stabilize my desktop.

"This is the last of it." Rein let the mattress plop onto the ground of the second bedroom and I dusted myself off. I had offered to help him unload his car, which went much faster than I had anticipated.

"I'll leave you to it. I have to take care of some final bits of this job." I pointed in the general direction I was headed and he nodded.

"Thanks for the help."

"No problem. I'll be downstairs." On my way out I knocked my shoulder against the doorframe and I put my head down in embarrassment, quickly rushing away to my studio.

The design I was working on only needed a couple more details. A full ensemble of pieces and accessories were important and I wanted to make sure that this was a look and not just any regular gala dress. I capped the last marker, finishing the sketch and tossing all of my drawing tools into the bin they were stored in. Quickly looking back at the door to make sure Rein was still upstairs, I heard a distant thud of something being dropped. Deciding that he was far enough away to not disturb me, I picked up the sketch and stood in the center of the room. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and felt my lungs fill with crisp air. With the sketch in one hand, I took my other hand and pushed my fingers into the page. Instead of the ripping or the paper folding like one might suspect, my glowing hands sunk into the sketch as though it were a vertical pool of water and after getting a good grip I pulled out the bodice of the dress. I let the paper fall, and it dropped with a thud as the gown flourished out of the page. The seams were crisp and the details were immaculate as the remaining sunlight of the day caught the diamond embellishments and made them sparkle. Looking down at the page, the sketch remained intact except the color was a little bit tinted. I rolled a dress form out from the corner and put it on it to get a good look. The matching bag and shoes were next, easily plucked out of the pages they were drawn on.

"Wow. That was one incredible magic trick." I fell over, hitting my head on my stool this time instead of the now-fixed desk which made me growl as I pushed my hand against the new sore spot. The purse and heels hit the ground a few feet away with another clunk.

"Fuck. I should have been more careful." I applied pressure to the bump and winced.

"What do you mean? That was awesome." Rein came to help me up off the ground and as he helped me up I realized he was surprisingly warm.

"I don't really tell people about my quirk. It's easy to hide, but people still act weird around people with them." I went to pick up the heels and purse and I set them down on my cutting table. One of the buckles on the shoe seemed to have been knocked out of place. I looked Rein up and down and at this point didn't care too much if he saw me do it again. I bent down, reached inside the sketch and pulled out a duplicate pair of heels with the buckle perfectly attached.

"That's a bit wasteful. Don't you think?" He chuckles. I squint at him, not particularly enjoying his playful jabs as the thought of exposure meant I might need to go to a different school. I shook my head, rolled my eyes, and tossed the initial pair of heels back towards the sketch and they exploded into a cloud of color before being sucked back into the page.

"I really need you not to tell anyone." I crossed my arms and leaned against the table.

"Tell anyone? I would never out you like that. Should I tell you my quirk to make it even?" I stared at his smirk for a moment, watching his smug face with a look of shock on my own.

"You have a quirk?" I ask.

"It's easy for me to hide too, but we're going to have to go somewhere else for me to show you. It requires another individual." He shrugs and turns down the hall, heading upstairs.

"So what exactly is it?" I pushed my hands into my pockets as I follow him inside the gas station. The door chime went off throughout the store and he scanned the aisles for people, but it was relatively dead. The cashier was an older gentleman, and looked like he was about to turn to dust if someone talked to him.

"Mmm, that." A bright yellow sportscar revved its engine as it pulled in front of a pump. A hulking man stepped out of it, making the transaction as he filled his car up with gas. I followed Rein out as he walked over to the car, looking up to check for cameras. Only one was pointed in his direction, but it looked broken. He snuck around the car, approaching the stranger from behind and then slipped into him. Rein was nowhere to be found, but the man took a deep breath in, face turning pink before he turned to me and relaxed his shoulders. He smiled, pushed down his shorts to show off his ass and continued pumping gas.

"What the - " Before I could finish, the pump thunked and this man continued to finish up at the pump with his shorts down. He closed up the gas tank with a double click of the cap and then turned towards me with a smile.

"So? What do you think? We even?" He pulled his shorts up and then leaned against the car with that same smug look on his face that Rein was wearing earlier. To be honest, I felt a bit of a rush as he looked at me.

"I don't know what to say. That's impressive." I crossed my arms, nodding at him.

"I should give him back, though. I've made my point." He winked at me, turned towards the gas tank and then Rein slipped out of his back. The muscled hunk twitched and shook his head before getting into his car and driving off with a full tank of gas.

"I think we're even." I looked at him and his eyes sparkled a bit as he smiled in my direction.

"We should go out. I think we could have some fun together." Rein spun around on my stool in the studio as I finished up the dress. One of the nice things about my quirk is I could make the materials needed for any missing pieces and last minute details. This made the fabric store useless unless I wanted inspiration. It meant I got to avoid the judgmental quilters and home-sewers who felt they were the pinnacle of fashion in their book clubs and sewing circles. It also means that everything that comes from my sketches was an original.

"I need to finish this." I said, doodling a needle and a spool of thread, filling in the color with a marker and then picking it up off the page.

"Does your quirk have any limits? Like can you draw anything and make it real?" Rein leaned towards me as I stitched the hem and made sure the seams were reinforced.

"I haven't really tried. I don't normally use it for anything other than small things like this. I know that I can't like draw books and have their pages filled with the story I'm thinking of, it normally just comes out blank." I picked a pin out of the fabric and stabbed it into my wrist pin cushion.

"What about money?"

"Everyone always asks me that, but, ow fuck," pushing the needle through the fibers, I felt the sharp end pierce my finger and I looked up at him. "I can make money, but sometimes it can read as fake. Not always though." I sucked my finger, the taste of iron swirling around in my mouth.

"That's awesome. Do you get tired?" He crossed his legs next to me as I finished up the last few stitches. "I only ask because sometimes if I'm inside if someone for a really long time I have to regain all that energy I spent."

"I haven't really, but I also haven't tried anything that might make me tired." I shrugged.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, like a person?" I started putting away my tools, adding the ones I wanted to keep and then crushing the other in my hand as they turned into particles of color and slipped between my fingers.

"I haven't tried that, no. I did accidentally turn one of my drawings as a kid into a real thing, which terrified my parents. That was a crazy way to figure out your son had a quirk." I laughed, stepping back to look at the dress. There was a moment of silence as Rein joined me in looking at the garment I had created.

"It's beautiful." He rocks side to side in the chair.

"Thank you." I blush, looking over at him.

"So, now that your done would you like to go out?" He smiled.

"Fine, but only because I finished early." I chuckled.

The gas station light flickered as a woman approached the older gentleman at the counter and spoke in a warm clear tone, "Hi there, I hope you're having a wonderful evening. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary happening around here?" Her dress swished side to side as she leaned against the counter. The warm smile on her face was sickly sweet and the older gentleman shook his head. After getting nothing from the old man, her smile dropped and she turned away from him to look around the aisles.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" The elderly man coughed.

"I can feel it. They've been here," She sniffed the air like a bloodhound, "two of them.” She turned back to the old man with that sickly sweet grin.

"Ma'am?" His raspy voice struggled.

"I'd like to see your footage for the day," Her smile is frozen as she spoke and her eyes swirled, turning from a brown to a dark purple. The older man stands there dazed and then blankly nods.

"Yes, ma'am." He coughs.

[ginnympotter]

I would love to see jealous Ginny! I’ve read so many jealous Harry fics and haven’t come across any jealous Ginny ones. I’m thinking Christmas ministry party or quidditch Christmas party where a few ladies who think Harry is fine are planning on how to trap him underneath the mistletoe.

"It's been sooo long since we've properly chatted, even though we both work at the Ministry!" said Romilda Vane, smiling in her scant, red Christmas robes, moving forward in a way that made Harry uneasy. "How are things? Word around the street is you might be the youngest person ever to be promoted to Head Auror, and very soon. That's quite impressive."

"Oh, it's really not..." Harry stammered, trying to think of what to say. He never really like Romilda, nor understood her interest in him- other than the obvious of being The Chosen One or The Boy Who Lived or whatever they were calling him these days.

"But it is!" she insisted, moving even closer. "You've accomplished so much... it's rather attractive."

"Is it?" asked Harry, looking around for a sign of his fiancé, pulling at his collar. "I don't really-"

"Of course it is! You're so ambitious and courageous- that always drew me to you."

"Er, thanks, I guess," Harry said, stepping back. Romilda moved forward in kind. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I-"

"Oop!" Romilda giggled, looking up. "Mistletoe."

Harry looked up as well, seeing the little plant above their heads. When he looked back down, Romilda was closing her eyes, moving her face towards his-

"Romilda, STOP," Harry demanded, having had quite enough of that, moving back a significant three strides. "I'm NOT interested. I'm with Ginny."

Romilda didn't even look fazed. "Still? C'mon, like school romances ever actually last-"

"Well, ours has," he proclaimed defiantly.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't see a ring-"

Suddenly, a dainty, freckled hand appeared between Harry and Romilda. Ginny wriggled her fingers in Romilda's face, then held up her ring finger, her engagement ring shining brightly. "Now you see one, don't you?"

Romilda's composure dropped momentarily as her jaw hung low at the sight of the diamond. Coming back to herself a moment later, Romilda's narrowed eyes met Ginny's.

"And if that wasn't clear enough..." Ginny trailed off, smiling. She put her ring finger down and lifted her middle finger instead. "Maybe that'll do?"

Romilda let out a small gasp. Keeping her middle finger raised, Ginny used her free hand to loop her arm through Harry's.

"Now do me a favor," Ginny said sharply, despite her smile. "Stay the fuck away from my fiancé."

Romilda scoffed with disdain. "Slag," she said under her breath, turning and walking away.

"Hag," replied Ginny, loud and clear.

Finally putting her middle finger down, Ginny turned her attention towards Harry. "Sorry about that, but I had to. I saw you handling it yourself, but it wasn't scathing enough for my liking."

"Don't be sorry," said Harry, smiling at her with appreciation. "It was hot."

"Oh shut up," laughed Ginny.

"It was!"

"Is that why you took so long to tell her to fuck off yourself? So you could get some pleasure out of my jealousy?"

"Listen, I'm usually the jealous one. It's nice for there to be a switch-"

"Oh, don't be daft. Do you think I like how many witches are all over you all the time? I'm just better at hiding it," she smiled. "But just something about Romilda... she's always gotten to me. Couldn't control myself. Forgive me for my lack of decorum at your work event."

"You are forgiven," said Harry, pulling her closer.

Ginny smiled up at him. "Did you know you're standing under mistletoe?"

"I was made aware of that recently, yes," Harry laughed, and Ginny moved in for a kiss, which he happily met her for, work decorum be damned.

[collecting-dustbunnies]

Somebody wasn't invited to Lucifer Appreciation Day...

From the banner event details:

[disorganised-bagel]

been playing way too much slime rancher recently, and am now getting The Urges to make some kind of rtc slime rancher au

[yunharlaquin]

a wild jaina appears on your dash, ready to cause solo levels of mischief......... what do you do?

[koushirouizumi]

Me, looking around my old Digi-O.C.s site C.D.: ... "Myotismon" in this super old thing I wrOTE: "This {"world" you live in} is *an alternate world* {from 'my own'}! You can thank (TAKERU) T.K. TAKAISHI and his silly NOVEL for THAT. Because of HIM, this {real} world is a NEW reality in which THE {Original} DIGI-DESTINED {I KNOW} never EXISTED!" m E: (GENUINELY having forgotten I wrote that in) I can't BELIEVE ""T.K."" ALSO accidentally created the Repeatverse {+before This Site even Existed}

[sunni-stuff]

Part 4

Soap’s eyebrows lifted with a curious glint in his eye as he looked from you to Adira, a playful grin edging onto his face. He leaned in, never one to miss a chance at a bit of friendly prodding.

“So… you’re married?” he asked, his tone as light as his smirk.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Haha! No, I’m not.” You gave Adira’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze, glancing down at her with a smile that softened every edge on your face. 

Soap tilted his head, pretending to be shocked. “A bonnie lass like yerself? Unmarried?” he teased, hand on his chest as though it were a crime.

“Guess I’m a rare breed,” you replied with a grin, chuckling as you shifted Adira’s hand in yours.

Soap’s face lit up at your response, as if he’d just been given the most interesting bit of news he’d heard all week. He shot Ghost a quick look, but Ghost was still watching Adira, his gaze softened with something unreadable.

Meanwhile, Gaz wasn't fascinated by Soap's ability to make anyone at ease, the man was a cassanova. Roach watched Adira with curiosity, as though piecing together a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed until now. Price stood off to the side, arms crossed, silently observing the whole scene.

“If you aren’t married, how’d you get this little one?” Soap pushed, grinning as he wiggled a playful finger in Adira’s direction.

Adira’s gaze snapped up from Ghost to the man with the funny hair, her little brow furrowing as she studied Soap with a mix of curiosity and caution. She leaned into your leg, clearly wary, but her attention stayed on the finger waving in front of her.

You chuckled, brushing a hand over Adira’s head to reassure her. “Long story,” you replied, smiling. “Let’s just say she was an unexpected blessing.”

Soap laughed softly, glancing at Ghost with a gleam in his eye. “Ah, aye, life’s full of surprises, eh?” 

Ghost, who had been studying Adira in silence, clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably as Soap’s words hit a little too close to home.

“I used to be really wild back in the day,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, a hint of nostalgia coloring your tone as you thought back to those not-so-distant years.

Soap wasn’t quite done yet, though. “Does the father know?” he threw a quick glance at Ghost, who had just risen from his crouched position. A new tension ran through Ghost’s frame, his stance rigid, as if the question had struck something he’d rather not confront.

You hesitated, a shadow crossing your expression before you shook your head. “No, he doesn’t… He, uh, probably has no idea.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering from you to Adira, who was absorbed in her drink, unaware of the intensity surrounding her. His shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, he looked as though he wanted to speak—but whatever words he had caught in his throat, locked behind his silence.

"I see, well. I'm sorry if I took up your time, ma’am, you've been a nice chat," Soap said, his voice softening with a touch of politeness, his grin still present but more reserved now.

You nodded, giving Adira’s hand a gentle tug as you continued on your way, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound accompanying your steps. The blue sky stretched above, peaceful, serene. As you walked, Adira turned her head, glancing back at Ghost one final time. She refused to let go of her cup, her small fingers gripping it tightly, but she lifted her other hand in a small, hesitant wave. "Bye-bye," she whispered, her voice soft but sweet.

Ghost’s gaze lingered, but he didn’t move. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of things churning behind those eyes. 

Price let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and facing Ghost. “So... what’s the plan?” he asked, his tone both blunt and expectant, clearly waiting for some kind of direction. The rest of the team stood in silence, watching the exchange unfold.

Ghost didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained on you and Adira, watching you both disappear further down the street, the distance growing with each step. The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound in the quiet winter air. He didn’t even notice Price's voice until the man spoke again, closer now, with a slight edge to his tone.

"Ghost, talk to me. What’s the plan here?”

Finally, Ghost shifted, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched as he turned to face Price. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something caught between anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing regret.

"I don't know," he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips. "I wasn't expecting this. Hell, I didn't even know she existed." His voice was low, strained, but there was a quiet honesty to it, as if he was trying to process something that didn’t make sense.

Soap stepped closer, his expression serious for once. "What now, Ghost? We can help. But you need to tell us what's going on."

Ghost finally looked away, his attention drawn to the ground, his fingers twitching like he was trying to find something to hold onto. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. "All I know is... I saw her. And it hit me like a fucking truck."

Roach, always one to stay in the background, spoke up. “Maybe it’s time to talk to her, yeah? Figure out where to go from here?”

Price’s eyes narrowed, his stern gaze shifting to Ghost, assessing him. “And what exactly do you want from us? You’re in this, whether you like it or not.”

Ghost let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “But I can’t just let her slip away.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the weight of the situation settled in. Then, slowly, Ghost nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Just… not now. Not here.” His eyes flicked toward the street where you had disappeared, and something in his gaze softened, just for a moment, before the mask fell back into place.

Price gave a single nod. "Alright. But we stick together on this. You’re not doing it alone, Ghost."

The team stood together for a moment longer, the wind howling through the alley, before they slowly began to move, their steps trailing off into the winter evening. The silence that hung between them was thick with uncertainty. No one knew what came next, but they knew one thing for sure: whatever happened, they were in this together.

A month passed, the team giving Ghost the space he needed to process the whirlwind that had hit him. They all knew this was something he had to handle on his own terms, but that didn't mean the questions didn't linger. What did it mean for the future? What did he want? The answers were still unclear, even to Ghost himself.

But Soap, ever the persistent one, wasn’t content to let things sit in limbo. He knew Ghost, knew how his mind worked, and that sometimes the best way to breakthrough was to take small steps. And if that meant subtly nudging you into the picture, then so be it. He’d always been good at this—at slipping in the background, making things happen without anyone noticing.

So, Soap started to "accidentally" run nto you. At the park, when you were out with Adira, he'd make sure to be in the same place at the same time, offering a casual greeting. It always started simple, harmless, with a nod or a small comment about the weather. Then, of course, there was that coffee shop where you'd gone to get hot chocolate for Adira.

The first time he "bumped" into you there, it was nothing more than a quick exchange. A question about the drink, a comment on the cold weather, just the usual small talk. But Johnny's natural charm and ease made you relax, and made the conversation flow without much effort. Over time, those small moments grew. You'd smile when you'd see him, and he'd greet you with the same friendly energy, always leaving you feeling at ease. No pressure, just casual.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Johnny began to warm you up to the idea of him. It wasn't much at first—a smile here, a shared laugh there—but he knew what he was doing. He wasn't pushing, just letting the connection build at its own pace. The more you saw him, the more comfortable you felt. The more you talked, the more you found yourself enjoying the interactions, even if they were brief.

One evening, Johnny sat beside you on the park bench, casually leaning back as Adira bounced around in the snow, her laughter filling the crisp air. The sound was contagious, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, watching her with a soft smile.

"So, me and a couple friends are meeting up at Leslie's this weekend," Johnny said, his tone light but with a hint of something more. "Would you be interested?"

You snorted, expecting the usual joke or teasing, but when you glanced over at him, his expression was far more serious than you anticipated. For a moment, you considered dismissing it. After all, Leslie's? A pub? That was a far cry from the cozy routine you’d built for yourself with Adira. 

“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I fit the scene."

Johnny shrugged nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that playful grin of his. “Please. It'll just be like old times.”

Your mind immediately wandered, trying to understand what he meant by that. What was it about old times that Johnny thought might appeal to you? You didn’t exactly have a wild past to cling to. Sure, you’d had your moments, but those felt long behind you now. 

Still, something about the invitation lingered. A night out... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You hadn’t done anything for you in a while. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to let someone else take care of the night for once. No worrying about Adira, no responsibilities for a few hours. Just some fun, whatever that meant now.

You hesitated, looking down at Adira as she made another snow angel, oblivious to the conversation happening nearby. She’d be fine, right? And you could leave if things felt uncomfortable. 

“Alright,” you finally said, meeting Johnny’s gaze with a reluctant but genuine smile. "I'll join you. But only if it’s not as crazy as you’re making it sound." 

Johnny’s grin widened, and you could tell he was already mentally planning the evening, no doubt with some plan to ease you in without overwhelming you. He stood up, dusting off the snow on his pants as he glanced back at you.

“Deal. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember.”

You just hoped he wasn’t overselling it.

The weekend seemed to arrive so fast, and here you were, standing outside your apartment, nervously adjusting your blue blouse and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the type of outfit you thought would fit a night out, but it was the best you could do. Most of your wardrobe these days consisted of comfortable clothes, ones that could be easily changed or wiped clean in case Adira had another of her toddler mishaps. Sexy or flirty clothes were a distant memory, tucked away in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust.

Adira stood in the doorway, clutching her little stuffed bear to her chest, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. The sight hit you harder than you expected. You knelt down in front of her, your heart sinking at the sight of her teary eyes. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, I promise,” you said, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out to her with a reassuring smile.

Adira sniffled, her tiny hand coming up to rub her eyes, but she didn’t break her stare. You held out your pinky, the gesture as familiar as breathing. Slowly, she reached out, her small finger wrapping around yours with the same trust she always had. The connection was brief, but it felt like a promise, one that you hoped would calm her.

"I won't be out long," you said softly to the friend you’d left with her. "And you, be good for Auntie too." The last part was directed at Adira, though the words felt bittersweet on your tongue.

Adira nodded, but her face still held that sadness, that uncertainty of what the night would bring without you. 

Standing up, you ruffled her hair and offered a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just a little fun for Mama, okay?”

Her small nod didn’t do much to ease the tightness in your chest, but you turned and gave her one last look before stepping outside. The cool evening air wrapped around you, a contrast to the warmth of the apartment behind you, but you pushed the feeling away. Tonight was for you, however strange that sounded. 

Locking the door behind you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t just any night out. It was a night with Johnny, with his friends, with the possibility of reconnecting to parts of yourself you’d set aside for so long.

Arriving outside the establishment, the familiar hum of chatter and music filled the night air, but what caught your attention first was Johnny standing outside, leaning against the brick wall, checking his watch. The moment his eyes met yours, they lit up, his expression shifting from casual to something almost... eager. 

“Well, well, look at you,” he said with that trademark wink of his, his gaze raking over you with a genuine appreciation that made you feel suddenly self-conscious. “You clean up well.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. It was hard to resist the easy charm of Johnny.

“Let’s just hope I survive this night,” you muttered, though the words were more for yourself than him. You weren’t sure what to expect tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things might not go as smoothly as Johnny seemed to think.

Johnny chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’m sure you will. Now, let’s get going before I change my mind.”

With that, you fell into step beside him, the weight of your hand at your side suddenly feeling strange in the cool night air. He led you toward the door, and as you entered the dimly lit space of the bar, your eyes scanned the room. 

It was bustling, a mix of regulars and newcomers, all seeking solace or company for the night. It smelled of beer, whiskey, and the faintest hint of fried food, a familiar and welcoming kind of atmosphere. But as soon as you stepped inside, your nerves shot back up again. You tried not to let the nerves show, but they were there, itching under your skin.

What you didn’t notice, as you made your way to the bar, was the group inside. Ghost, Price, Gaz, Roach—quietly observing, waiting for their chance to either speak to you or simply let you slip through their fingers once more. Ghost’s eyes tracked you the moment you stepped inside, and there was a hesitation in his gaze, something raw and almost pained that flickered in and out. 

For a moment, Ghost didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched you, aware that the moment he’d been dreading—he had finally stumbled into. Your gaze met his across the room, the flicker of recognition passing between you both. But that was it. You didn’t remember. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what he was to you.

Approaching the bar, you saw that Johnny was already leaning in, chatting with the bartender, exchanging friendly banter. You barely heard the words, only caught up in the feeling that something was different. Something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced back at the table where those men sat. They weren’t talking, but their eyes were all trained on you, as if waiting for something to happen.

Your heart raced without explanation. Ghost’s eyes—those eyes—stayed locked on you. He didn’t know how to approach, how to change what had already seemingly been set in stone. What was he supposed to say? What was the plan now that you were here, so close? God, why the fuck did johnny do this.

Johnny leaned toward you again, a soft smile curling his lips. “You good, love?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the uneasy tension brewing in your chest. “Just... getting used to being out.”

Johnny winked again, oblivious to the chaos of emotions swirling within you. “It’s all good. Let’s have some fun tonight, yeah?”

Ghost’s fist clenched involuntarily under the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this distance, this silent acknowledgment of his role, or how long he could ignore what it meant to see you here now. 

“You’ll fit right in,” Johnny said, though there was a hint of something deeper behind his words. “Just a bunch of mates enjoying a drink, nothing crazy.” Johnny leads you over to the table, you expected to be met with… well you didn't quite know what.  

Price leaned back in his seat, cigar in hand, a soft smile on his weathered face as he regarded you with a raised brow. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

"Neither did I," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile and doing your best to ignore the gnawing feeling that lingered when you looked at him. You hadn’t quite expected this part of the evening.

“I’m just here for a drink, nothing more,” you said, looking over at Johnny was getting comfortable in his chair.

“Well, pull up a seat, love,” Price said, motioning to the empty spot next to him. “We’re all friends here.”

You hesitated but made your way over, perching yourself on the seat next to him. The sound of the glass being slid toward you, the clink of ice against glass, broke through the chatter around you. Your nerves buzzed as you focused on the drink in front of you, trying to ignore the sudden realization of just how different this was from the quiet, routine life you had at home with Adira.

“Enjoy yourself,” Price said with an air of casual amusement, leaning back in his chair. “This is all new for you, isn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to admit just how out of place you felt in the moment. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of whiskey warming you from the inside out.

You laugh lightly, a bit awkwardly, trying to shake off the nerves that gnawed at you. "Yeah, this all a bit... newish. I haven't been out like this in years honestly," you admit, taking a deep breath and glancing around the bar. The warmth of the space was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, but the sight of the men made you feel more like a fish out of water than ever.

Johnny claps you on the back with an easy grin, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “These are my mates. Price, Kyle, Gary, and Simon," he introduces with a flourish, motioning to each man in turn. 

You give them all a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of them just yet. There was something about the way they carried themselves, all standing a little apart from the crowd, that made it clear they were more than just regulars at the pub. But you didn’t have time to focus too much on that right now. You were trying to just survive the night.

Price, who looked a bit older than the rest, nods at you, his gaze thoughtful, almost cautious. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a tone that is polite but distant, as though he’s waiting for something, some sign.

Kyle, as Johnny had called him—gives you a friendly nod, a playful glint in his eyes, but there's a strange sharpness to his look that you can’t quite place. “Pleasure," he says, offering you a tight smile.

Gary simply gives you a quick but sincere nod. His eyes linger on you just long enough for you to catch a flicker of interest before he looks away.

And then there’s Simon. His presence, as always, is quieter, more intense. He’s sitting in the middle, arms crossed, his gaze fixed directly on you. You can feel the weight of it, though. It’s impossible not to. There was something you couldn't place with him though you couldn’t see too well under the dim light.

You try to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. “Nice to meet you all," you reply, your voice warmer than you feel. 

Johnny, oblivious to the awkwardness in the air, slaps the bar and gives a nod. “Alright, drinks all around, yeah? Let’s get this party started!” he declares, pulling the group into the rhythm of the night.

As the revelry began your stomach churns slightly, a sense of unease still lingering despite the distraction. You knew something was off, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the men—it was the way Simon’s gaze lingered on you, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for something. It unsettled you, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Johnny, seemingly oblivious to your tension, slides a drink toward you. “First round’s on me," he grins, the clink of glass against the table snapping you back to the present. "Here’s to a good night.”.

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the nerves that still clung to you. This was supposed to be a night out, after all. A chance to shake off the past, to let loose just a little. You couldn’t let the weight of everything pull you under before you even tried. What would be the point if you didn’t at least try and enjoy yourself?

Shaking the tension from your shoulders, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of alcohol easing the knot in your stomach just slightly. The guys were chatting among themselves, Johnny’s laughter cutting through the low hum of the bar as he joked with Kyle. Price was listening intently, nodding along while Gary seemed content to let the others talk, his eyes occasionally flicking to you, though his gaze didn’t linger long.

And then there was Simon.

His presence loomed even when he wasn’t speaking, his broad frame leaning against the bar just slightly, face half hidden by the shadows. You caught his eyes for a split second, the intensity of his stare making your pulse hitch. You quickly looked away, focusing on your drink, your nerves creeping back up despite the effort to push them aside.

You could feel his gaze on you, though, like a weight pressing against your back. You tried not to let it show, tried not to acknowledge how his proximity seemed to pull at something inside you, but it was impossible to ignore. There was a pull, something in the air, but you couldn’t quite grasp it.

Sighing inwardly, you turned your attention back to the others. Just enjoy yourself, you remind yourself again. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of it.

Johnny clinked his glass against yours, a grin on his face. “Here’s to not letting the night pass us by,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile back, lifting your glass.

“Cheers,” you said, the warmth of the alcohol giving you just the nudge you needed to ease into the evening. For now, you’d ignore the tight feeling in your chest. You’d enjoy yourself. 

But the eyes that lingered on you would remain, whether you were ready for them or not.

You pushed your chair back with more force than necessary, the scrape of it against the floor loud in the otherwise quiet bar. The conversation still echoed in your ears, but your focus had been on the man, Simon, for the past half hour. His silence had become suffocating, every glance he cast in your direction feeling like it held some hidden meaning. You couldn't quite place it, but something was off about him. His eyes, cold and intense, had followed you too much, made you second guess every word you’d said.

"Im... gonna go powder my nose," you muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else. You didn’t wait for a response, the words barely out of your mouth before you were already making your way across the room, past the low hum of idle chatter and the clink of glasses.

While you were in the bathroom, the entire team turned their attention towards Ghost, each of them sizing him up, starting with Soap.

"What is wrong with you?" Soap asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"What?" Simon blinked, genuinely confused.

"Mate, you've been gawking at her all night," Gaz added, raising an eyebrow, his voice teasing but laced with concern.

"Shit. Are you serious?" Simon muttered, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze didn't stray far from where you had just disappeared.

Roach, leaning back casually with his drink in hand, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's like you’ve been stuck in a staring contest with her since she walked in."

Price, who had been watching quietly, shook his head with a resigned sigh. He snuffed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray, eyes narrowing as he met Simon's gaze. "If you scared her off, I doubt you’ll get another chance, lad."

Simon’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t realized how obvious it had been, but now that the team was calling him out on it, he felt the heat rise in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but the pull to look at you, to remember what had sparked your connection all those years ago had been almost magnetic.

“Alright, alright,” Soap teased, leaning in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just don't burn a hole in her head.”

“Shut up,” Simon muttered, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse.

Price shared a look with the rest of the team, a silent understanding passing between them. While Soap might have been the one to set this whole thing in motion, it didn't mean the others didn't have contingencies in place. 

Soap got up first, stretching a bit. “Gonna make sure no one's tried to get in my car,” he said with a casual tone.

“I’ll come with you,” Gaz chimed in, already pushing himself up from his seat and following Soap toward the door.

A minute later, Roach also stood, excusing himself without a word, and then Price followed suit, his movements deliberate. “I’m gonna make sure they’re not up to anything,” he said with a knowing glance.

With everyone out of the immediate area, the bar suddenly felt quieter, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. It took Ghost only a second for it all to click—he had been set up. Without thinking, he bolted from his seat, rushing outside just in time to catch the taillights of Soap's car disappearing down the street.

He cursed under his breath, but before he could make another move, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen. There, in simple words from Price: 

“Good luck.”

Ghost stood still for a moment, phone in hand, as the weight of the situation hit him. His heart thudded in his chest. This was it. There was no turning back now.

By the time you returned to the table, you felt a bit more at ease. The night out wasn’t all that bad… it was just that Johnny had some weird taste in friends. Well, mostly the tall one. You couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to have left, a pit forming in your stomach at the thought of being ditched.

You let out a quiet sigh, about to gather your things and head out when your phone lit up in your purse. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Johnny. 

"Emergency, looks like one of the beers wasn't that good, poor Kyle threw up."

You paused, reading the message again, a small smile tugging at your lips. Aww… nevermind. At least they hadn’t forgotten about you after all. 

"Hope he's okay." You replied quickly, grabbing the straps of your bag when suddenly a hand landed on top of yours.

You looked up, meeting the intense gaze of Simon. Seriously? You couldn’t help but think. They took everyone but this guy?

You forced a smile, trying to pull your hand away, but Simon’s grip was firm, not unkind. “Look, I had a decent time, but I have to go—”

“Just a minute,” he interrupted, his voice low, steady, almost pleading. There was something about the way he said it that made you pause, something different than the usual small talk.

"Fine." The word slipped out before you could process it, and you cursed yourself inwardly. Really? You just agreed to stay with the guy who hadn’t stopped staring since you met him. You sat back down, and he mirrored you, settling across the table. 

Silence stretched between you, his intense gaze unwavering. He didn’t so much as blink, and you couldn’t help but feel more unsettled by the second.

What the hell is his deal?

“Look, if you're just going to be a creep, I don't think I want to mee—"

“Do you remember Armed Forces Day?” His voice cut through your words, quiet but resolute.

Okay, this took all day, I wanted to give you all something long to read incase I disappear for finals (which I might)

Reblogs appreciated!!!

TAGLIST: @nijiru @livinggxd3adgirl @skylarmitchell @lunamoonbby @pagesfalling @love-kha1 @thychuvaluswife @dinonuggetsworld @serafina-nyx @imttryi @armycaratlover @mulletmcghee @jajouska @sgreer123123 @gaida-511 @uhenivid @maluvilela @cosmicbreathe @natashamea18 @fucknuggets420 @dreamygirli3 @skzthinker @viecyi @drip-from-kitchen-sink @instantdinosaurwitch @xbirdiex @too-pretty-to-live @koibleufish @lahniu @lostintransist @famouscattale @secretcheesecakenacho @guyser @allixamour @kihyuns-military-wife @cray0ngutz @jaxz21 @singshoutshaxx @plk-18 @strawberrygato @soaplickerrr @hizzielover @bvinnyll @pawnthedice @viennakarma @forgottensomewhere @i-love-ptv @tachiara @n-y-x04 @oniiloma @vmaxis @allllium @ninikrumbs @thatpersonnamedrook @qetigasitashvili05

WOWWW LOOK AT ALL THESE NAMES. Thank you all so much for the support!! Im sorry if i missed any, I will update if I noticed any missing or comment on those who's tags didnt go through!

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

hoshi being a lil shit • k.s.y.

Pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), established relationship

Warnings: swearing, literally hoshi being a lil shit but reader snaps back, biting, oral/fingering (f. receiving), use of babygirl/woman/wife/etc, mentions of a daughter and slight mention of breeding/impregnation/birth but nothing major, I'm tired lmk if i missed anything

WC: ~3.2k

A/N: this was a request but it got kinda long so i just decided to keep it as a separate post (thanks to nova for agreeing i should just keep the title of my draft it really is true sjdkfj.

Soonyoung's standing over the sink, casually minding his own damn business as he goes about doing his nighttime routine. He'd just turned on the faucet when a noise from the bedroom causes his ears to perk up. 

The loudest moan he's ever heard you make.

He freezes in place, elbows bent and arms tensed as he stares with disbelief at his reflection in the mirror. Soap-suds drip down and start burning his eyeballs, snapping the flummoxed man out of his trance. Rapidly splashing water over his face, he's mildly relieved not to hear the sound again and thinks he's imagined it all.

Until another blissful gasp of yours cuts through the sounds of him brushing his teeth. Spitting harshly in the sink, he shoves the toothbrush back into his mouth and stalks into the bedroom to see you curled up in bed.

"What are you doing?"

Your eyes slowly open, squinting at the sudden brightness of the vanity lights shining into the bedroom. "'m trying' to sleep. Why, do you need something?"

"I need you to be quiet." 

"You're being the loud one between us."

Soonyoung's grumbling noises only contribute more to his unnecessary noisiness. You scoff and roll over, only for another delighted groan to escape that halts your husband in his tracks.

"What in the world are you doing?"

The sigh of exasperation you exhale at his repeated question definitely isn't as pretty as the previous ones. "What are you doing? Just get your ass in bed so we can sleep, babe."

He huffs. Stomping back to the bathroom to shut off the light and very aggressively shakes out his toothbrush with obnoxious taps against the side of the sink. When he returns, you expect him to slide into bed next to you as usual but instead, you feel a fierce stare boring holes into your back.

You roll over and try to meet his gaze in the dark. "What?"

"You've never moaned like that for me."

Silence. 

"That's why you're throwing a tantrum like a child?"

"My pride is ruined! And I am not throwing a — "

"Your pride is fine, babe, you'll feel better after you get some rest."

"No, don't 'babe' me, we need to sort out this very serious issue. You can't expect to coerce your husband into sleeping while you get off without him."

"Soonyoung, my god. How did you even reach that conclusion? I'm just laying here trying to sleep!"

"You're not… masturbating?"

"No? Why would I be?"

"Well, that's good but why're you making those noises then?"

Sleep seems impossible at this point. You sit up with a huff, barely making out Soonyoung's shirtless figure with the sliver of moonlight peeking through the shades. 

"Did it ever occur to you that our bed is so comfortable that I love getting all cozy under the covers at night?"

"Our bed?"

"Yeah, especially when you're not in it first."

"… Especially when I'm not in it?"

You make grabby hands in his direction. "Yeah 'cause it's nice and cold so get your annoying yet somehow cute butt in here finally, please."

It's a relief that he forlornly acquiesces and goes to his side of the bed. You flop back down happily and wiggle in place after pulling the covers up, enjoying the silence, and close your eyes to —

"I can't believe it. Getting into bed gives you more pleasure than me?"

"For fucks sake, Soonyoung!"

"You have to understand where I'm coming from. I mean, c'mon! I could hear you over the water running and I swear on my tiger plush collection that you have never been that loud for me. Ever."

Certain he's wearing a scowl on his handsome face, you turn and place a hand soothingly on his cheek. "There's a difference between sexual and simple pleasures. And you know that we need to keep it down out of politeness for our neighbors with how thin the walls are."

"Do we?" Your husband ignores the warning tone of his name, quickly shifting so he can hold himself above you, placing a knee on either side of your lower body and caging you within his arms. "Or am I not doing a decent job of pleasuring my wife? Forgive me, love. I suppose my stroke game has been too weak for you."

"It's not that you goofball!"

"Let me make it up to you?" he questions and waits for your response.

"I mean there's nothing to really make up for but if it'll make you feel better, then by all means go ahead." You weakly gesture toward the lamp on your nightstand. "Lights?"

"Oh, darling," Soonyoung's head lowers so he can whisper directly in your ear, the feeling of his hot breath on your neck causes tingling to shoot straight down to your core. It doesn't help that his hips press down to grind just a little so you can feel how worked up he already is from your unintentional, lovely little noises earlier. "I already know very well how gorgeous you look, but tonight I want to hear how pretty you sound."

You gasp — slightly scandalized yet somehow flattered — and he's pleased enough to start kissing below your ear, fingers playing with the bottom of the thin cotton shirt you wear to sleep. He pushes it up so he can slip a thumb underneath the waistband of your panties and trace circles across your hip. The soothing, familiar feeling makes you let out a content sight until he pulls away.

It's a little strange for your husband to be shielded from your view by the cover of night's darkness during sex. But Soonyoung doesn't need to see to know your body. He has it memorized by heart. Ingrained in his soul. You whine at his sudden distance though, reaching out for him and he chuckles.

"Let's make one thing straight though, love."

"Okay?"

"I'm not doing this to make myself feel better, I'm doing this to prove you wrong."

"That doesn't make any sense, prove what — "

He cuts you off, diving back down to wrap his mouth over your left-clothed breast. The unattended one is granted the warmth of his hand as he cups it lightly and squeezes. Meanwhile, his tongue is at work, easily dampening the shirt's material as he circles it around your nipple. Encouraging the nub to stiffen takes not even a second and when he's satisfied by the way it pokes up, he bites down. Hard.

You squeal and then slap a hand over your mouth to muffle it. "Soonyoung!"

He smirks, knowing you're glaring at him accusingly. He wishes he could see it and the wet spot on your chest but what he wants, in the end, will be all the more rewarding.

"Here's the deal. Every time you try to stay quiet, we'll stop and chat a bit, okay?" 

"You're kidding me."

"Don't make me tie up your hands, babygirl. You know how I like them all over me, just keep them like that and we'll have zero issues." You sigh at his statement and do as he says, lightly running your nails along his muscular back. He shivers. "Oh yeah, just like that."

He lets you push his head back down to your chest and resumes suckling on your tits, opting to lather the other one with his tongue and pinch and pull at your tender, bitten nipple. You're already starting to write underneath him and he's only just begun. 

"Patience, lovely."

"You're the one that wants to prove a point. I'm just going with the motions and waiting for you to fuck me silly then."

"Mouthy aren't we?" he mumbles against your breast.

"Isn't that what you want?"

"As nice as it is to hear your words, I think your moans would be a lot better."

"Then get to it?"

Making you beg would be pointless. Soonyoung's already whipped hard enough to give you whatever you desire and who is he to deny your request? He abandons your chest, taking the covers with him as he maps a kiss-filled path along your body. Down he goes, sliding until he's lying flat on his chest, close enough to feel the heat on his face that radiates from the center of your spread legs.

"Wait," you gasp out, startled because your panties are still on, "let me help — "

He silences you, pressing a kiss against your thigh before nuzzling at your clothed pussy. Tongue poking out to teasingly run up and down your covered slit, your arousal and his saliva mixing together and rendering the fabric wet enough that the feeling is electrifying.

Your hips jerk up to follow his lips as they move away but a hand gently rests on your abdomen to keep you still. He places another kiss above your clit and just when you're about to grab his hair so he can stay where he is, his teeth graze your hip bone.

Intentionally, you whine loudly to try and encourage his return back to your throbbing pussy. Unable to anticipate his motions in the dark, you're unsure what he's even doing almost until it's too late. With some incredible level of skill, Soonyoung pulls down your panties with his mouth alone. You swear you can almost see his eyes glint in the darkness like a predator stares down its prey. Although it's only an illusion — you know he would never harm you and the thrill of guessing what his next move will be makes your spine tingle.

An appreciative grunt when the center of your panties is the last to part from your body, seeming to stick around your cunt from his ministrations. You obligingly lift one ankle at a time when you feel him tug them down far enough, mouth agape. 

"Fuck, that shouldn't be as hot as it was…"

He's pleased by your breathless whisper of awe, chest swelling in pride as he gloats. "Yeah, baby? You liked that?"

"Shaddup, you're annoying."

A light chuckle rumbles in his chest as he sits back on the back of his heels. "And we both know that means you're enjoying this. You can't fool me anymore."

"Fooled you earlier."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm a smarter man now."

"Is that so?" Soonyoung hums in response to your question, quiet shuffling as he repositions himself to your side. Your nimble fingers reach out to find the smooth skin of his stomach only to snort when he coyly flexes his abs. Lifting your leg, you hook it around his hip with the intention of pulling him closer. "You sure about that?" 

But he whispers hotly once more in your ear "I am" before grabbing your thigh to halt your motions. Warm fingertips graze the skin underneath your knee, traveling up… up… and up until they brush against the outer lips of your pussy the same time he starts pressing kisses onto your neck.

His lips trail down your upper body in the same direction his fingers dive into your cunt. Kissing the valley between your breasts, he slides into your warmth and purposefully avoids the spot that usually has you seeing stars. Your husband takes his time exploring, stroking your walls and gathering up your wetness so it coats his palm and starts to drip onto the bedspread. He nuzzles your stomach lovingly, placing a smooch on your belly button and you can feel his smile at your airy giggle.

"It's unfair that every sound you let out is just as pretty as you are."

"What if I burped?"

"Then I'd think you were the sexiest woman ever." Soonyoung's a kisser — placing another one on your clit that makes your hips buck up. But you scowl at him despite it. Because he's also an ass-kisser sometimes.

"I thought it was Cheol's fault that Jangmi has no table manners but looks like her daddy's guilty actually."

Your daughter was at Jihoon's place for a sleepover with her best friend — another reason why the two of you kept it down normally but could possibly be loud tonight. Keyword: possibly. If the two of you could shut the fuck up for a second.

You can feel the way your husband's mouth curves down as he pouts against your inner thigh. "And her mommy's mentioning another man in bed even if daddy is right here."

"Honest to god, Soonyoung," your fingers grab at the strands of his hair, "you're the clown I married, am raising a child with. Who cares who I mention in passing when you're not doing anything?"

His response is muffled completely by you dragging his mouth right onto your core, grinding right across his lips for good measure. He chuckles in defeat, letting you lead the show once you've interlocked your ankles behind his neck for support. 

He pulls away slightly, "I better be able to hear you loud and clear even with your thighs around my head, baby."

"Get to work then, handsome."

Soonyoung does his best to stay quiet in spite of how much he wants to moan in delight. Not only does he find it insanely hot when you lowkey use him to get off but he'll never tire of the way you taste on his tongue despite your protests. He stiffens the muscle and occasionally curls it upwards to flick at your clit or simply twists and turns around to tease your inner walls.

You, on the other hand, are just as loud as he wanted you to be. Even with your thighs trapping his head in place and tightly encasing his ears the closer you get to reaching your climax, he can clearly make out your pretty sounds. Mouth open without restraint, fingers making a mess out of his hair with how tightly you're gripping at it.

Just as that wave of pleasure washes over you, threatening its impending peak, Soonyoung manages to pull away. You're undeniably frustrated but let him be, assuming he needs a break to breathe. But he's still the same playful man he always is and suddenly he's disappeared.

"Soonyoung!"

"I'm here, baby… I'm still here," he reassures although truthfully aware that you might potentially slap him if he doesn't hurry. He stands up and slides down his sweatpants in relief, hustling back to the bed only to let out a rather unsavory, loud curse.

You sit up rapidly in concern at the way the bump caused the bedframe to shake upon impact. "Are you okay? Did you break your dick? Tell me you didn't, it's okay right?"

"Jesus, I'm fine — thanks for asking. My dick's perfectly fine too but my toe sure isn't."

With a sigh, you turn on the lamp on your nightstand. Trying not to giggle at your husband's sniffling, slightly comical with the way he's hunched over. 

"And this is why we keep the lights on." He scowls at your comment. "If you had just gotten into bed like a normal person from the start, your toe might still be attached to your foot."

"For someone who just had their orgasm denied, you're in an awfully chipper mood."

"What can I say, the love of my life is making a complete and utter fool of himself as usual as payback."

"And yet we're still married."

"And yet we are," you echo and take off your shirt, tossing it onto the floor. Leaning back and spreading your legs, one hand tweaks at your exposed nipple that's still sore from his love bite while the other trails along your lower abdomen. "As long as you finish the job you started… if you're up to it."

Brown eyes flash at the challenge you didn't really intend to spark. "Who says I'm not?" He recovers quickly, scrambling to get on top of you with a toothy grin as he braces himself with his arms caged around you once more. "You really doubt my performance game, huh?"

"I sincerely was worried that you broke your dick or maybe the pain killed the mood."

"Don't worry, love," Soonyoung gives his cock a few strokes before lining it up at your entrance, "we still need to give Jangmi the little brother she so kindly asked us for."

Your despondent sigh blends into a satisfied one when you feel his tip poke and part your pussy lips, easing himself inside where it feels like home. You willingly give him the long-drawn-out moan he's enthused to hear while he works on bottoming out. Kissing your lips with a fond peck, both of your foreheads meet as he starts moving. Alternating between shallow and fast thrusts that cause your mattress to squeak or slow and steady glides where you can feel every vein that runs along the length of his cock, dragging your nails lightly down his toned back to match each rhythm.

It, of course, does not take much time for your orgasm to build up again having nearly reached that exhilarating climax already. Soonyoung won't last that long either, you're well-accustomed now to how excited he gets — already more than halfway approaching his own release by the enticing stimulus of the actions prior — paired with an insanely rapid refractory period. He could get off to your sounds alone… which started this whole ordeal anyways.

"You gonna cum for me, darling?" Your answer is another resounding keen of pleasure, wrapping both of your legs around his waist just like you did with his upper body before. He smirks, picking up the pace. "That's my good girl, c'mon — I can feel you clenching so tightly around me, relax and let go, baby."

You can only do as he commands, throwing your head back with a shout of his name as he peppers kisses on your clavicle and up to your ear. Mumbling praises in your ear, he continues to thrust into your wet warmth that spasms around him, setting off his release with a growl.

It's quiet for a while, peaceful despite harsh pants as you both try to come down from your high. Staring into each other's eyes that shine with the warm glow of the light by the bed and are full of so much love it's almost gross if anyone could see you right now. Just as Soonyoung's about to pull out and flop down beside you, a startling bang from the other side of your wall causes the two of you to flinch and freeze in place.

"Would y'all shut the fuck up?! No one needs or wants to hear your nasty sex!"

Your husband scoffs in disdain at your neighbors' complaints and shouts back before you can stop him. "Not my fault I can make love to my wife better than you could even dream of fucking yours!"

The couple falls silent and you smack him lightly on the shoulder even as you bite your lip to try and keep the laughter at bay. "Babe, I told you they would say something!"

Soonyoung can read you like a book and shoots you a smug smile, shifting his hips teasingly because he is still deep inside your cunt. "What do you say, baby, you up for giving them another show? We have all night after all." He gloats at your gasp when he pulls a little bit out, the mixture of your releases creating a filthy squelch even your neighbors could probably hear. "And I had a point to prove to you anyways, didn't I?"

[arminsumi]

. . . Satoru, who doesn't shut up during s★x

► '... yeah, talk like that, all up in my ear when he want that wax, can't even hear when I moan like that!'

+ Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT/18+ ONLY, (primarily) dirty talk, namecalling (baby, sl★t, and one playful instance of 'loser'), br★★ding kink, unprotected s★x, pwp, eludes to facesitting

+ Author's note: been a while since I made some pwp, but I just had a vision of a very verbal Satoru that I needed to express ✌️😗

Satoru's behind you, easing his hips against yours, hands tight on your waist, those blue eyes intently watching the sight of his hard cock disappearing into your tight cunt, savoring the feeling of gliding past your plush lips and pushing up into your guts inch by inch by inch by inch by inch by inch by inch. He's got a cocky, lopsided, downright slappable smile that contorts into an erotic o-shape as he moans in relief — he sounds like he's needed this all day.

And after his first few slutty moans roll out, his mouth doesn't close. He's got a big ego, a big cock and a big mouth and he just doesn't shut up during sex.

He's foul, unfiltered, and unashamed; ".... that greedy little pussy's just swallowing my cock today — yeah, look at you takin' it like you're my personal porn star — huh? Nooo, it's a compliment!" he tops this all off with a smitten kiss, a little bite on your bottom lip, and a sweet "You're just so fucking pretty, makes me curious..." but he trails off, like he just realized now that he can bite his tongue, show a little restraint.

Yeah, that restraint only exists for a short while.

Sweat running down the back of your thighs, Satoru's heavy-hitting thrusts make a sloppy, wet mess between your thighs. While he ruins you like this, he also starts running his mouth, making your head spin deeper into the heat of his intense sex, "Oh baby, take me deeper — fucking take it, yeah, you take that fucking dick... take that nasty fucking dick. J-just let me fuck — your — cunt — dumb — babyyy!" his vocals strain at the end as if your pussy just sucked the breath out of his lungs. He packs his cock as deep into you as he possibly can, cockhead nudging almost too deep inside, only to quickly ease out when you whimper, "Fuck, you good? Sorry, you just feel so fucking good, 'think I'm obsessed with this slutty little hole, 's the only one that can make me this hard. 'Don't stop'? Aw, don't worry... I'm not gonna stop for a while. Yeah, hold your legs back just like that, let me all in, baby."

Honestly, you learned about his breeding kink simply because of Satoru's tendency to blurt things out when he gets too blissed out on sex; "... yeahhh I fucking love you. Keep telling me you love me, 's gonna make me cum so fucking hard — fuck I'm so close, I-I'm so close, I'm gonna cum inside you baby — I'm gonna cum inside you and knock you up — uh-huh, 'gonna nut so fucking deep inside you, you're gonna get pregnant — g-gonna have my babies — oh fuck me, 'm cumming...! Ugh, stay right there and take this fucking nut, baby... fuck... fuck you fucking drained me." he takes a moment to steady his breaths, planting a slap on your ass and staring in silence for a while before he continues, voice softer-toned than earlier, "Hey, still with me, baby? Perk your ass up a little, I wanna watch my cum dribble out. What? That's not perverted... this is art. What are you sighing for? Nah, don't you laugh at me or I'm gonna — fuck you, get on my face, loser, I'm gonna make you cry."

Even outside of the bedroom he still has a nasty word or two just waiting to spill out his mouth — especially the morning after a long, hard night.

His eyes catch on the curve of your hips, he smirks, and he comes up behind you while you're in the kitchen, leans way down and mutters something nasty in your ear just to hear your naughty giggles. "Hey sweet thing, you got a boyfriend? Nah, relax, he doesn't have to know a damn thing..." he asks jokingly, massaging your tiny pussy in his big hands, middle finger dividing your plush lips and rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties — but it all only lasts for a split second of course, he intentionally leaves you wanting more. He'll act dumb if you call him a tease, "Huh? What do you mean 'do something about this'? Did I turn you on? I was just saying good morning, baby, you've got such a dirty little imagination."

��𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

I do not allow the copying/plagiarizing/reposting/translation (etc) of my works. Please don't steal what I've worked hard to create.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 

And you were just extra baggage. 

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 

~

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 

~

Satoru appears first. 

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 

He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 

"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 

"For what?" 

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 

"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 

And so did Suguru. 

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 

"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 

"Good." You respond. "You?" 

"Good." 

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 

But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 

Suguru frowns, troubled. 

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 

"I love you." 

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 

He's miserable. 

You did this. This was all you. 

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 

 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 

"But what?" You press. 

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 

~

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 

"You'll see!" You chirp back. 

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 

Shoko freezes mid-sip. 

"What?" She asks. 

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 

"Oh." You breathe. 

"Oh." Utahime whispers. 

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 

"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 

"I-I-" You give up. 

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 

"Do you want us?" 

You take a deep breath. 

You nod. 

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 

You break away, panting. 

"You good?" She asks. 

You nod. 

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 

"What?" 

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 

Shoko slaps your thigh. 

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 

"Awake?" She asks. 

"Yeah." You softly say back. 

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 

"I'm gonna get food." 

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 

"What do you want?" She prompts. 

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 

The interaction makes your heart warm. 

Still, it can't last. 

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 

"And where are you going?" She prods. 

You fumble. "Back to my room?" 

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 

You laugh. 

"That's not a joke." She warns. 

"I know." And you kiss her again. 

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 

Everything was just perfect. 

And then, it just wasn't. 

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 

The living room is horrific. 

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 

Suguru doesn't even blink. 

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 

But you know you aren't expecting...that. 

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 

You step back. They step forward. 

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 

He smiles again. 

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 

The worst part is that everything was your fault. 

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 

Satoru halts. You caught him. 

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 

"You missed us?" He wonders. 

The lie feels like sand. 

"More than anything." 

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 

"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 

And then, he grins. 

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 

~

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."