#still been a bit of a mess today despite that though

[ageingfangirl2]

Imagine Being Bonten's Receptionist (Bonten x F Reader) - Tokyo Revengers

PART 11: A NORMAL DAY AT THE OFFICE

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

The office was tranquil that morning. The usual tension in the air had been replaced with a calm hum of normal office work. The sun filtered softly through the windows, and the hum of computers and the occasional flipping of papers were the only sounds filling the space.

You were sitting behind the desk, sorting through some documents and checking your email. Your new kitten, Bonten, was napping in a small box beside you, claiming it as his throne. Now and then, you’d glance at him, his little paws twitching in his sleep, and it brought a tiny smile to your face.

Across the room, Mikey was leaning back in his chair, casually scrolling through his phone. He wasn’t usually one to be bogged down by paperwork, so today was a bit of a break for him. His feet were up on the desk, an unbothered look on his face as he occasionally glanced up at the others.

Sanzu had his feet propped up on the desk next to Mikey’s, chewing on the end of a pencil while watching you. His gaze lingered on you for a few moments before he finally spoke.

‘Hey, have you noticed how the office’s a lot more peaceful now that you’re around?’ he grinned mischievously, tapping the end of the pencil on his desk, though his tone was light.

You roll your eyes without even looking up, already knowing where this was going, ‘I’ve only been here a few weeks. Don’t get too used to it.’

Sanzu chuckled, ‘What, you mean you don’t want to become the office’s official peacekeeper?’ He leaned forward, trying to catch your eye, ‘I think you’re doing a great job. You haven’t even started pranking anyone yet.’

‘Don’t give me ideas,’ you grin, eyes twinkling mischievously as you pull a stapler out of your desk drawer, holding it up, ‘I might start with this. Don’t mess with my stuff.’

Sanzu raised his hands defensively, still smiling, ‘Alright, alright. I’ll keep it safe. But you can’t blame a guy for trying to stir up some fun around here.’

Across the room, Ran was leaning back in his chair, the perfect picture of laziness as he fiddled with his phone. He overheard the exchange and chimed in with his usual bored tone.

‘Pranks, huh? You’d better be careful. We’ve got a few members here who’ll take it too far, and then it’s game over.’

‘Like you?’ Rindou teased from the other side of the room, throwing a wadded-up piece of paper at his brother, ‘I saw you hide a whoopee cushion under Koko’s chair last week.’

Ran smirked, clearly unbothered, ‘It wasn’t that bad. He walked away with his pride, and I got a laugh. Win-win.’

Rindou rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips, ‘You’re insufferable.’

‘And proud of it,’ Ran shot back with a wink.

Over at the other side of the room, Kakucho was quietly typing away at his computer, handling something that seemed more official than the playful banter around him. Despite his normally reserved demeanour, he couldn’t help but glance up as Koko sauntered into the office, a takeaway coffee in hand.

‘I swear, if you keep drinking that stuff, you’ll be bouncing off the walls before lunch,’ Kakucho commented dryly, his fingers still tapping away on his keyboard.

Koko laughed and waved him off, taking a dramatic sip from his cup, ‘Please, I need it to survive this place. Can’t you see how thrilling it is here today?’ He gestured vaguely at the scene around him, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Mikey looked up briefly, adding in with a casual smirk, ‘Yeah, the most thrilling thing today is who can finish their reports fastest. Should we make a bet?’

‘I’ll bet you can’t finish the stack of paperwork in the next 30 minutes,’ Koko challenged.

Mikey shot him a playful grin, then made a face of mock offence, ‘You think I can’t? What’s this, a challenge? Fine. I’ll make it fun for you.’ He grabbed the pile of papers off the desk and started skimming through them.

‘You’re so full of yourself,’ Koko muttered under his breath, but there was no mistaking the admiration in his voice. Mikey was good at everything — even something as dull as paperwork.

At the receptionist's desk, you watched the playful back-and-forth with a smile, enjoying the lighthearted moments they were all sharing. It wasn’t often that the world of Bonten slowed down like this. Normally, they were running from one crisis to another, dodging police, and handling the underworld's dirtier dealings. But today, it was just...normal. Just them.

‘You guys need to learn how to relax,’ you tease, watching Mikey stack the papers with a speed that seemed almost unfair.

‘We do,’ Sanzu added, still lounging in his chair, ‘But sometimes, the best way to relax is to mess with the people around you.’

‘Or drink coffee,’ Koko added, gesturing to his cup.

‘Or make bets,’ Ran chimed in, throwing his arm around his brother’s shoulders, ‘You know, standard office activities’

Everyone chuckled lightly, the camaraderie thick in the air. Even Kakucho, usually the serious one, allowed himself a brief smile as the atmosphere stayed light. There was no tension in the room, no immediate threat, just Bonten being Bonten — strange, chaotic, and full of personality.

As the day went on, you found yourself caught up in more small talk, with the occasional lighthearted prank. Sanzu tried to steal your stapler, Ran made fun of your paperwork organisation, and Koko tried to offer you his coffee again, despite her repeatedly turning him down.

But it felt nice. It was an ordinary day, one without danger or high stakes. And, for once, everyone got to just enjoy it.

‘Alright, alright,’ you say after a while, getting up from your desk, ‘I’ve got to get back to work. I’m not the one who started this coffee break.’

Mikey’s grin flashed once more, his eyes gleaming with amusement, ‘That’s because you’re the only one who works around here.’

‘Hey, don’t forget who’s handling all the paper pushing,’ you tease, holding up a folder full of documents.

With a wave, you returned to your desk, the playful chatter continuing as the rest of Bonten returned to their usual antics. Today, no one was talking about crime or business, just about how much they could get away with. It was just another day at Bonten.

Mochi enters the office, his expression as calm as always, though there's a subtle shift in his demeanour when he notices the playful atmosphere. The usual quiet hum of the office is replaced with easy chatter, teasing, and jokes. He barely reacts at first, though there's a quiet raise of his brow as he watches Sanzu half-heartedly make a mess of paperwork, Ran and Rindou laughing over some playful sibling banter, and Mikey lounging with his feet up, apparently unbothered by the chaos.

As he walks further into the room, he notices you sitting at your desk, a small smile on your face as you watch the antics unfold. You look up at him as he approaches, and he gives you a brief nod.

‘Nice to see you’re not getting caught in the madness,’ he says with his usual cool tone, but there's an underlying hint of amusement in his voice, ‘Not that I mind, but this office…it feels like a circus when I'm not around, doesn't it?’

You chuckle and glance around at the others, ‘You could say that. The mood’s a little more laid-back today.’

Mochi’s eyes flicker over to Mikey and Sanzu, both of whom seem far too comfortable with the chaos. ‘You sure about that?’ he asks with a small smirk, ‘Seems like there’s a bit too much playtime going on without us here to keep things in check.’

He doesn’t seem bothered by it, just a little bemused. Mochi is always so observant and never one to outwardly show much emotion, but his thoughts are clear. He’s not the type to be impressed by chaos, but he does notice the shift in the dynamics when he and Takeomi are absent. While everyone else is in a playful mood, he’s the steady, grounding force who isn’t easily swayed.

Before he takes his usual seat, he gives a small nod to Takeomi as he enters, subtly signalling his thoughts on the matter. They’d have a quiet, almost private conversation about how things seem to change when they’re not around.

Takeomi enters the office with his usual no-nonsense attitude, though it’s obvious he notices the lighthearted vibe almost immediately. He steps into the room, his sharp eyes scanning the situation — Mikey lounging, Ran and Rindou playfully arguing, Sanzu tossing papers around. Even Kakucho, typically reserved, is letting himself relax a little.

He stops just inside the door, looking around with a slight furrow of his brow, ‘What’s all this?’ he asks, his voice quiet but carrying that edge of irritation that comes from being the only one who seems to take things seriously, ‘Everyone’s so damn relaxed. Feels like I missed something.’

Mochi, already seated and half-smirking, glances at him and then back at the group, clearly amused but too collected to outwardly show much, ‘Seems like they’re having fun. Maybe you’re the one who’s missing out.’

Takeomi glares at him for a moment, though it’s not a serious look. He just doesn’t like how everyone’s so carefree when he’s not around. ‘No one’s taking their jobs seriously today. This is why I have to come in and keep everything together.’ His eyes flick to you, who’s trying to hide a smile behind your hand.

‘What, you think they wouldn’t start playing around if I weren’t here?’ He gestures to the rest of the group, his tone dripping with sarcasm, ‘Look at them. It’s like a daycare in here.’

Ran, overhearing him, grins widely, ‘What’s wrong, Takeomi? Getting a little jealous because we’re having fun without you?’

Rindou leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, ‘He’s just mad we’re not stressed out over nothing.’

Takeomi glares at them both, but his annoyance doesn’t last long. He leans against the wall and folds his arms, clearly not pleased with the lack of serious work being done.

‘Fine, whatever. You all are the ones who’ll end up behind. I’ll make sure to pick up the slack.’

Despite his irritation, Takeomi has a dry sense of humour, and even though he’s a little put off by the lack of focus, there’s a hint of understanding there. He knows it’s harmless fun — even if it annoys him. His gaze shifts to the receptionist again.

‘Guess someone has to get things back on track…’ he mutters to you, his tone less abrasive than it had been earlier. ‘If you’re free later, maybe you can help me organise the reports. We’ve got some real work to get to.’

You nod, trying to hide your smile, ‘You know I’ve got you covered, Takeomi.’

‘Good,’ he says, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he finally relaxes a little, ‘Someone here has to be the responsible one.’

[eldritch-strawberries]

One of the big things they don't warn you about when it comes to being a system that co-fronts easily is that sometimes you'll all end up distracting each other from what you're each trying to do. One person will be playing a game and unable to read anything because another person will be listening to an audiobook while a THIRD person is passively thinking about one of their ocs, resulting in everyone having a hard time focusing on literally anything

[whokilledsamara]

Hello! I don’t usually make requests but i have one could u pretty please if u have time? 🥺

Anyways the request would be like homocipher boys (especially my bbg Mr Crawling) pussy drunk. Pls.

PUSSY DRUNK

a very short fic for a few of the Homicipher boys. {Mr. Crawling, Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood}. Homicipher x afab!reader.

warnings! : each are different so a bit of violence, neediness, switch!reader, smut, porn, PORN NO PLOT!!! almost all of them are cunnilingus

{an: if you meant a fic with all of them in a gangbang sense, you can send in another request}

MR. CRAWLING

"Not now Mr. Crawling, im busy." you say softly, gently petting his head as he tugs at your skirt. "Please..", he practically begs, his lips turned into a pout.

he was always so desperate to please you, stopping at nothing as long as it made you happy. his eager face made it so hard to resist, and with a sigh, you gently part your legs before continuing to use your hands with what you were doing.

almost as soon as you do so, his face is shoved as far as it can go, a whine leaving his lips as he has to pull away to remove your underwear. a giggle escapes you while you watch.

...

"mngh.. fuck, please.." the words slipped so effortlessly from your lips, Mr. Crawling's head so deep between those legs of yours that you couldnt think straight.

your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging often. whines left him almost constantly, his hands holding up your thighs on his shoulders and off the chair. "Me want, More" he states softly, his voice muffled as he stares up at you, the lower half of his face still stuffed between your thighs.

as you nod softly, he hums and shoves two of his long and slender fingers inside of you, effortlessly curling them upwards towards your g-spot. "a-ah..!" your voice hits a high peak at the sudden intrusion, legs trembling as yet another orgasm rips through you, despite how many you had previously.

as overstimulated as you were, the man between your legs gives a few more licks to your clit, slowly pulling away. as he sits up, Mr. Crawling stares up at you with a cheeky grin, his chin covered in your juices. "Good." ..... "Big, Good."

MR. SCARLETELLA

as usual, he was feeling needy.

every since you pretty much marked him as your "slave", he has been near you at all times, getting upset whenever you interact with others instead of him.

this time in particular though, you watched tears fall from his eyes as he stared up at you with a desperate expression. despite the cold look on your face, and the amount of times you rejected him, he still pleads. "Please." he whines, his hands trembling against your thighs. "Please what..? not this again." you ask, glaring down at him. his hands grab at your raincoat, face a pleading mess.

"Need, You." he begs. you think for a second, a long exasperated sigh leaving your lips before you finally do what he always dreamed of. you roll your eyes, head tilting to a nod. that was all the conformation he needed.

...

hours had gone by, your unfortunate yet aching cunt so desperately clenched around his tongue, his hands clawing at your thighs.

his skilled tongue circled your clit an uncanny amount of times, his pace never slowing. "A-ah wait.. wait i cant.. fuccckk.." another orgasm ripped through you and then, only then, did his pace falter. "You, Like?" he asked, pulling his face up from your legs with an uncanny glare.

you nod many times, his smile only growing wider. his lips lean in and press against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. as much as you denied your feelings for the man, you couldn't think of anything but how good he felt and tasted. with a thoughtful groan, you wiggle your finger at him, signaling for him to stand. immediately he obeys, face flushed and juices dripping down his chin. your eyes are locked on his for a second before you speak in a demanding tone.

"Take off your pants."

MR. SILVAIR

he was NEVER needy. so why was today different?

one of the other residents had managed to piss him off so much that he couldn't think straight. his usually calm demeanor shifted completely dark, not even a hint of his usual smile on his face.

even Mr. Chopped seemed worried, asking softly if he was okay. Mr. Silvair ignored him, his gaze fixated on your eyes. he nods his head to his "research room", silently instructing you to go. he follows closely behind you, the heavy door slamming shut and locking you both in the room.

...

a huff leaves his lips as his hands angrily lift you up and slam you on his examination table, ass up for him, with little to no way for you to escape.

"W-what are you doing? Whats wrong?.. Mr. Silvair-!" you ask hurriedly, hands scrambling to find something to grab. he ignores your pleas and hikes up your raincoat, forcing off your panties with one quick motion. you couldn't see him as you tried to look behind you, but you felt him sink to his knees. "H-hey- ah..!-" your words are cut off with a moan as his long, snakelike tongue slips between your folds.

Mr. Silvair's strong hands keep you spread with ease, giving him full access as he greedily eats your pussy like its the last meal on earth. "Stop Squirming." his usually calm voice turns dark, his fingers digging a touch deeper into your hips as he keeps you held up for him.

as hard as you can, you attempt to keep your hips still. his tongue reaches as deep as it can reach, making you harshly bite your lip and see stars, juices running down his face as you finally orgasm. "A-ah right there--fuck! please.." your begs go unnoticed as he releases you and stands, walking out of the room without another glance. seemingly, this little outburst would hold him down for a while.

be glad it was only his tongue this time.

MR. GAP

a while after you got used to your residency at the complex, you learned your lesson about walking near the gaps.

the man who always seemed to appear at the worst moments, would mainly only mess with you. usually, it would only be a small poke as your ankle as you walked by, a tug at your hair when you had your back turned, or small scares he would pull off.

eventually you learned to ignore it, or altogether stay away from the walls, but unfortunately for you, today was a day you slipped up. as careless as it seemed, you were walking on your own, tiredness taking over your expression. the day was hectic, having to deal with more than one entity at a time.

a sudden yelp escapes your throat as you are yanked by your arm into a small opening in the wall. your back ends up pressed against the nearest wall, Mr. Gap's face level with yours with that sick, uncanny expression he always has.

you huff and use your hand to push at his face, the ever so sassy man rolling his eyes and grabbing your wrist. "You're No, Fun." he grumbles, hands fumbling with your shorts. "The fuck are you doing?" you mutter as a hushed yell, eyes glaring at his.

the grin on his face grows wider as he shoves off your pants, before suddenly dissolving into nothing. your eyes dart around, confusion evident in your expression until a sudden whine leaves your lips at an unknown feeling hits your core.

looking down, you find Mr. Gap nose deep in between your legs, eyes locked on yours as he smirks into you. your hand shoots down to grab his hair, attempting to pull him away as embarrassment fills your expression. though unluckily for you, or luckily depending on how you take it,, he doesn't move. instead, he groans into your hand, his hands tighten on your thighs as he pushes his face deeper, licking and sucking anything he can manage.

after many failed orgasms, and many tears from his constant edging, finally after everything he lets you cum, sucking hard enough on your clit to have a loud moan escape you, thighs clenching around his head.

though something tells you he isnt done.

MR. HOOD

as mono tuned as the man was, and as little as expressive as he was, he couldn't help his built up tension.

while no, he didn't understand the concept of love, or at-least he wouldn't admit it- he knew and felt the need for touch.

he often would allow you inside of his coat, usually just chilling in there or whatever you called it- but you never saw it as anything more than companionship. or so he figured. the moment he felt you experiment by placing your hand just above his crotch, his views changed.

with little to no effort, Mr. Hood plucked you out of his coat, setting you gently on the nearest table. he stared at you for a second, chest heavy. he could definitely sense your confusion- but as he kept his gaze on you, he reached out to grab your leg, his oddly feeling hand sat calmly on the inside of your thigh. "May, Touch?" Mr. Hood asked, an almost worried tone in his words. quicker than he could get his words out, you were nodding.

his body stilled for a second, almost as if he was debating his life choices, but ultimately decided to continue. gentle fingers reach under your raincoat, tugging down your panties with ease. and while he would never admit it, he quite greatly enjoyed the small sounds you made when his fingers traced your lips.

he hesitates for a second, before pushing a single ghostly finger inside. it was oddly cold, but felt so good inside of you as he worked his way in. a long moan leaves you, your hands reaching out to grab his arms.

one of his tentacles shoots out, replacing his finger that instead opted for your clit, rubbing in tight, hard circles. "Oh fuck.." you breathe out, legs trembling at your embarrassingly close orgasm. "I-im gonna c- mmngh!!" a hushed scream leave you as the tentacle curls, thrusting hard at your G-spot. it sends you over the edge, your juices flowing down your thighs and around the appendage. with a sigh, he pulls out, seemingly pleased.

"Turn Around."

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[sheepispink]

Hurt

super soldier!reader x lt ghost (and technically tf141 too)

cw: angst, gunshot wound, mention of needle pricks and piercing the skin

Part one Part two Part four Part five Part six

a/n: phew this was a long chapter and i sped run the last two thousand words.. again. hope you all enjoy 💓

——————————

Ghost was enjoying the game; he always did. All he had to do was turn his thoughts off and stare at the screen and cheer with the others when his team finally kicked the stupid ball into the goal. That’s what it was supposed to be, so was his head still running? He couldn't shake it off, the unnerving familiarity that he couldn't quite place, all because of that damn soldier who looked at him with widened eyes. He had just brushed it off and carried the food and drinks back to the room with the few other operators who gathered.

“Soap! Damnit, how did you..” Gaz groans, although it was actually both of their faults that the drink had splashed onto them in the first place. Soap only scoffs, nudging him with his elbow as the soda starts to drip onto the floor too.

“Oi, ye know damn well yer the one who grabbed me.”

The two huff as they have to get up and head down to the bathroom just a little way down the corridor, washing their hands and wiping down their shirts from the splash.

“Hm? Wha’ ye lookin at?”

“Ghost’s rookie, or whatever. The super soldier– why’s the room door open?”

The pair give each other puzzled yet concerned looks, opting to go inform Ghost rather than try and investigate themselves. In Johnny’s opinion, he did not want to end up on the bad end of that kid–especially from the stories he’s heard–and Gaz couldn't disagree.

“The room door’s open?” As always, Price immediately fills with concern when the two report the news, thinking over the possibilities. You weren’t the type to be reckless like that; though if you were in a rush, it may have been possible. Still, it wouldn't be without a good reason and he couldn’t find a singular one for why you may have done that. Today’s just a regular day, that’s all.

“Ghost said the kid was celebrating their birthday. Maybe they went with whoever came to go out for a bit?” Soap offers, shrugging as he sticks another cheesy nacho inside his mouth. “What’s wrong Cap’?”

Price has gone deadly still, concern spreading across his features along with something akin to guilt. He was supposed to use the budget allocated for you to buy you what you wanted, to give you even an ounce of what you actually deserved, and he had completely forgotten despite the reminder now stuck on his lockscreen. Of course, he did warn you that he was a busy man and may not be able to make it, but dammit he was sitting here watching a football match. “That soldier.. I was supposed to be there, bringing all their party stuff. Yknow, snacks, cake..”

“They’ll understand, Price; probably don't even mind all that much.” Gaz offers, trying to console the obvious guilt seeping from the Captain’s tone. “They’ll just hang with their fellow soldiers. Y'know how the rookies like to mess around.”

“It’s not like that, Garrick.” His expression grows heavier, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose almost the same way when a mission begins to run off track. “No one speaks to them apart from Ghost and me. They’re on their own.”

——

Ghost pushes the room door open, slightly confused on why Price has ordered him to go check, but he supposes having something go wrong with someone as strong as you was a reason for concern. Though, he really is convinced that it likely isn't a big deal in the slightest; maybe you, and whatever rookies idolised you, had decided to celebrate in the grounds–who bloody knows. He’s a bit surprised by how neat your room is, considering he’s never been in here before, but he had at least thought there’d be some snacks out or something for your supposed guests. He did find it a little weird if he was being honest, how you invited him to your birthday party. You were a young soldier and rookies loved to mess around; surely they’d come join in on the fun or at least take the opportunity to watch a good movie. And him? He was a gruff lieutenant who only wanted to push you to your limits. His hand brushes over the paper thin sheets, curious as to why they’re just as rough as the infirmary beds, not to mention the countless pill bottles on the nightstand. You may be trained by him, but he didn’t bother to look further than what the file typically specified.

His eyes catch on the wardrobe, spotting the uniform that you were wearing this morning hung up already. That was weird, and now that he looked at the contents better, your hiking boots and jacket were gone, only your combat trousers left behind. Just when he was about to check where you kept your knives, his eyes caught on the colourful wrapping of a present, instantly turning his head towards your dresser.

A box lies there, the lid half off. So you did receive a present, huh? He checks for a sender but no indication is left on the box–maybe they didn't bother since they gave it to you on purpose. Out of curiosity, he decides to peek inside, his stomach feeling strangely sick when he sees the gun laid inside the box. He was right to some degree then, that you were abnormal in the way you think, but was he ever so sane? He’s about to head back when he notices the paper beneath, folded over, and picks it up. His heart felt like it broke through his ribs when he read the first line, but the second? He was running back to the others, the box gripped tightly in his hand.

“Gaz, go check the cameras now; try to figure out where they headed.” Price’s voice is loud and authoritative, wasting no time in getting to the root of this matter, especially after seeing that note. Meanwhile, he’s got Laswell on dial, waiting for her to pick up. “John? What’s wrong?”

“Kate, I need the tracker on that super soldier now.”

———————

Ghost had wasted no time, Johnny in tow as they both headed towards the mess hall. It was on the second week you came; you had been late for training. When you eventually arrived, your clothes were wet, having just doused yourself in the shower. But what he did not forget was the remnants of crappy mess hall food stuck in your hair and the ridges of your boots, the sight not particularly one you donned often. Though what should’ve raised alarm bells in his head was passed off as nothing, and even when you attempted to explain, he cut you off, already demanding you to start with no warmups.

His boots thump heavily against the floor, purpose and vengeance written into every step as he searches for your pursuers. If that situation wasn’t enough of a clue, he was damn sure that the chef would’ve seen something that could relate to the matter. “You.” His voice is sharp, instantly catching the man behind the counter, who doesn't waste a second in giving him his full attention; it was almost as if he knew something. Of course he did; everyone knew that wherever Ghost went on a mission, you followed behind, and so vice versa. “Don’t waste my time now. You saw a soldier get food dumped on them. Who did it?”

“Sir..I dont know; there’s always arguments in here-“

Ghost’s hand slams down onto the counter, not oblivious to the flicker of fear in the man’s eyes, like someone who knew they were in the wrong. He wasn’t stupid; the lies were seeping through every stammer in his sentences. “I said, do not waste my time.”

“I-it was three male soldiers–” The chef spills all the information out to him, including their name and the troops they belonged to. Those soldiers would be lucky if they even saw his mask before they felt the blow.

“Lt! Laswell tracked them; they’re in the training cabins up the hills. Capt and Garrick are waiting by the front.” Soap rushes over and Ghost firmly nods, following quickly after him as he leads him outside the building with the others. Price mans the wheel as they drive through the forestry, bumping over branches occasionally; it’s dark out so eventually they have to climb out and walk the rest of the way, torches in hand. They’re drawing closer now, the tracker in Gaz’s hand beeping relentlessly. “Almost there-”

A loud bang echoes across the grounds, startling crows as they scream and caw all around. The four SAS look at eachother with widened eyes before running towards the cabin that is faintly in view. Three soldiers stand outside trembling at the sight of John Price himself and the man with the skull mask, a duo no one ever wants to cross, approaching them, rapidly.

—------------------------

You can hear murmurs outside, or perhaps it’s yells; you can't really tell after the gunshot. Ringing echoes in your head, bouncing off every corner of your skull and repetitively attacking your brain. Every sound has been slowed and muffled as your brain tries to catch up to speed with what's happening, except you’re not the average person, and your brain catches up too fast, too soon, making every feeling crash into you. Soft fur is held between your fingers, clutched desperately as a sickening smell fills your senses. You realise the yells are from yourself, twisting into screams as you clutch the furry creature held tightly against your chest. It’s You’re whimpering pathetically, the bullet that had sounded out from your enemy’s—no, comrade’s?—gun digging deep somewhere. The fox attempts to soothe you, nuzzling its dirty face against your neck, attempting absolutely anything to get you to stop the screams that make your eyes ache and your fingers tremble.

“Kid? Kid!” Two warm hands settle on your shoulders, snapping you back into reality. Men were shouting outside; your throat was dry, and there were no screams apart from the howls of the fox you tightly clutched. Your mouth was open, but no sound echoed, screams playing on repeat in your head like you’d been taught to when they stuck those needles in you. “Someone get a damn medic here now!” A stern voice shouts, but you don't understand until the fox nudges your arm, making a newfound pain sear through you as you look at the blood soaking the fur of the animal. You panic, beginning to squirm only to get soothed by deep brown eyes.

“Y-you—“

The words don't find your mouth, the man staring back at you as he strokes your hair, the blue eyed scot already looking intently at your arm before grabbing what supplies he usually keeps on hand.

“Gaz, Sergeant Garrick, I'm here to help. Stay awake for us now, okay? C’mon, tell me your name, soldier.”

You manage to murmur it out, but your attention is more focused on the way the fox snaps at Gaz’s fingers, stopping him from comforting you. “Kid, you’re gonna have to let go of the fox-“

You shake your head frantically, holding it tighter and it equally follows, staring at Gaz with menacing eyes. “No—It’s hurt! I can't— it got shot!” You exclaim, tears streaming down your face that you didn't know were there before.

“I can help him then, can’t i? I’ll treat him.” Only then do you release your hold, letting Gaz lead the fox away with outstretched hands and a spare piece of food as bait. But you don’t understand. The fox is fine, there’s blood soaking the fur sure, but it’s not in an ounce of pain? So then.. where was the blood coming from? You look down at Soap as he crouches before your arm, and only now do you actually notice the pain stinging your arm, the tremble in your hands and the way your lips hurt from how hard you’ve bitten down. You’re bleeding, badly.

The next half an hour is a blur, between silent sobs that wrack your body, Soap managing to wrap up your arm as best as he possibly can with the gauze he keeps in his attire and Gaz repetitively trying to keep you awake. Still, you’re nowhere near being actually awake, heart thumping behind your eyes as you move in a daze, your super soldier capabilities stopping any sort of pain processing— an emergency response only you survived the experiments to produce. You’ve never been shot at before, contrary to popular belief, but it means that your mind can't keep up with all the emotional surges that come with pain and stressful situations. You’ve barely comprehend that Ghost was outside, too focused on the fact Soap had wrapped you up in his embrace, letting your face rest against his neck whilst he made sure to ease the pressure on your arm. You were still, way too still for someone who had felt every emotion as far as your dulled mind could feel only moments before, breaths so quiet as your eyes glaze over. One hand rests beneath your thighs, keeping you upright whilst the other rubs your back,holding you tight as possible as you try to understand in the slightest what is happening.

————————————-

You wake up in a medical room, or at least you assume it to be by the mostly sterile walls. Drugs contaminate your mind, leaving you in a sleep-induced haze as you blink up at the ceiling. You can only turn your head to the side, noticing the bandages around your arm but there was a strange beeping now, echoing louder and louder. Two nurses enter, each grabbing your wrist and restraining you.

Everything comes back now, the needles the third nurse carries, the blank look in their eyes, the masks they wear over their faces and the scrubs always the same shade of blue. The beeping loudens, your legs kicking wildly as you panic, unable to control the fear.

“Stop- i didn't do anything wrong! I did what I was told!”

You yell, unable to sit there and watch it go in again; you can't bear to watch your own skin be pierced without a single feeling to go alongside it. They draw closer, their eyes gaping holes into nothingness. The intern nurse isn't here to save you, your parents are signing the papers beside your hospital bed and your legs are strapped down, chest so tight you can barely push another breath out until-

Calm, quiet even, a warm hand pats your head. “Hey.. hey..” Your eyes blink open again, Gaz standing before you. It was still late, around 8:30 or 9 pm based on the position of the moon outside the window. It was slightly open, a few bushes outside, and not the best for an easy escape considering it opened inwards. It would’ve been better if—

“Kid?”

You blink up at him again; his hand was steady on your hair and properly rubbing at it now, looking at you with soft eyes. Still, you can't manage a response, only nodding quietly. “You’re safe now, okay?”

Safe. What an odd concept; would you ever really be safe? Have you ever been safe before? The soft beeps of the heart rate monitor pull your view to the side, your bare arms rubbing against the paper-like sheets and making you instantly recoil. Just the mere thought of being on these infirmary beds made you want to throw up, and it didn't help that you could faintly see an old needle in the bin beside the bed, fresh pin pricks on your arms. You were never supposed to have one again.

“Is your heart always like that?” He asks, gesturing to the monitor that you now finally look at, despite it being the first thing that caught your eye. It’s beeping, steadily, in an almost eerie way.

“It hasn't changed once, always a steady beat even when we hadn't bandaged you properly yet.” It makes your gut twist, knowing he sees you as abnormal but you are abnormal so you can't exactly feel that bad about it all.

“Yeah, it is.” You murmur quietly, looking down at the bandage around your arm now, the flimsy outfit that barely covers a thing and the prickly uncomfortable feeling that comes with being so vulnerable. But then again, you’re always vulnerable, it just depends if the person decides to take advantage of it.“I was.. made to be that way. It only goes higher when I'm working out or uh fighting. No other times.”

Gaz blinks at you in a way that makes your throat clog, but his hand is still rubbing your head. Your brain still refuses to comprehend it, afraid he’ll stop if you even think about the matter.

“Kyle. Price wants to talk to ye, i’ll look after ‘em.”

Soap enters the room, as he had introduced himself as in your pained haze a while ago. When was that even? You knew them all anyway— of course you did, who did not know the youngest soldier to join the SAS?

“Aye, you feelin’ any better?” He comes to sit beside your bed as Gaz leaves, a black container held in his hands. You watch as he adjusts the iv drip you hadn’t even noticed before, making sure it’s good on you before sitting back again. “Price wants me to have a little talk with you.” He murmurs, cracking open the lid of the container to reveal steaming food, more specifically the best you’ve ever smelt. It’s no Gordon Ramsay but it’s enough to even make you perk up, the smell of the saucy chicken and the spiced rice—and salad too? It was likely bland anyway, but it sure made your empty stomach rumble.

Regardless, Your mind locks in almost immediately; the food never looks that good, you may aswell take any chance to get a taste. “Why isnt Price here?” You knew better than to question him, but you did anyway, feeling betrayed at the mere thought that he sent his soldier to talk to you rather than himself. Doesn’t he know you’d walk to the ends of the earth to earn his approval?

“Him and Ghost have been.. dealing with your pursuers. Don't worry, they’ll be back.” That eases your head a little bit, but for some strange reason you don't quite believe Ghost would do that at all. Yet still, you were sure to get corrected if you dared to act up and ask again.

“After the medics patched up your wound, they realised you’re well.. malnourished to say the least. You needed an emergency IV drip.” He begins, scooping up a heaped spoon of the food. “We want to know why you haven't been eating— it’s not like there isn't food available.” Your mouth waters at the sight of his spoon; he’s just glad at the fact you look willing to eat rather than forcefully starving yourself. “There’s.. never much food left when i come back..” You start, but he doesn't believe it, staring at you with a raised brow. Even so, he lifts the spoon to your mouth, and you dont argue, chewing it down quickly.

“Aye, y’know ye can just tell the truth righ’ ? If ye do, I'll get ya food like this for the next two weeks. Or perhaps you just prefer hospital food?”

Everyone knows that hospital food is far from appetising, even for you who barely cares about what food goes into your body. But you can’t deny that eating those bland foods brings back memories you absolutely cannot have return right now, because no matter how much they experimented on you, they most definitely couldn’t stop your brain's base function— to remember. Still, it feels strange to speak up now, especially with the way the Scot is staring at you, his eyes a piercing blue and you feel seen, but it’s raw and ugly rather than relief that tingles your nerves.

What good would it even do? It’s not like they’re actually doing something wrong, right? Super soldiers exist to be unbeatable, therefore the notion of them beating or bullying you cannot co-exist with that fact. Unless, you were beatable, unless you did have weaknesses, unless you weren’t actually the prime of human being—

Unless you weren’t a real super soldier.

Soap lets out a sigh, snapping you out of his trance and the disappointed look that's written over his face is enough to resurface every reason relating to why you haven't been eating. Your brain is like a database, and his disappointment is the energy that fuels you to search and retrieve each incident that relates, just like the supersoldier machine they’d made you into. But there’s too many things to say now, and not enough words to convey them. You look up again, realising you’ve been staring at your hands for too long now just to realise he isn't even staring at you in contempt. No, he’s waiting, patiently, and you know this for sure because you can actually read the emotions on his face. With Ghost, everything was a guessing game, pushing your brain so hard to figure out the absolute best way to approach things whilst addressing every emotion you didn't know he was feeling. Sometimes he felt like a super soldier rather than you did.

”Soap?” You say quietly, and he perks up immediately, not expecting you to actually give in it seems, or really talk to him for that matter. “Mhm? Thinking about havin’ some good food?” A small smile slips onto his lips, trying to ease the tension in your body by a smidgen with a teasing tone.

“What if they don’t let me have the food, Soap?.” You admit quietly, repeating his call sign like it strings you back to this reality, keeps you grounded in this scratchy hospital bed. “Whose they?” He asks, his hand reaching out to rest upon your leg, rubbing it over the covers.

“The chefs, the soldiers—I don't know their names. I walk into the mess hall, at the end of lunch, and they tell me that my ‘friends’ have already taken my plate for me.” The words fall out, recounting the daily experience for the past three months, the one you can never change the course of.

“They know that they aren't my friends. They watched as I went to ask them for my plate, and they knew they’d throw it on me.”

Soap’s lips part as he stares back at you, shocked by the audacity of some of these soldiers, but even the chefs? He can understand the first time, they might have actually thought they were, but why continue to give those soldiers your plate if not to torture you?

Hazing was normal in the military, too normal, but it never lasted this long and usually after a superior saw, it got shut down immediately with a firm warning for wasting food and messing around. So why hadn’t Ghost stopped it?

”Why didn't you say anything?!”

Except it came with a slam of the door, the roughness of a voice too familiar, and the heavy boots of a man you feared since you woke. That wasn’t Soap’s words, no. “Lt? I thought you were with Price—“

“Go with Gaz, Johnny.” Your gaze lifts again, the throbbing on your arm almost unbearable or maybe it’s the fear spilling a cold sweat across your body. “You could’ve ruined everything! What the hell are we supposed to tell the superiors, huh? That you almost died over some stupid hazing?!”

Soap glances between you two, taken aback by his Lt’s sharp reaction to the situation, the tone that he’s only used with enemies who have almost brought the country to its knees if not for their task force. It’s not right.

“Lt—“

He doesn't back down, stepping forward to the bed you lay in, walking closer to the point Soap has had to stand up and step back for a moment, confused.

“You better have a damn good reason. All you had to do was speak up once— just say anything! But no; you love to keep your reputation don't you? Is that it? Is that why you never bloody told us?!”

He’s pushed back by an arm across his chest, one that he breaks if not for Soap taking his momentary hesitation to block his path. “Johnny move—“

“Lord, Ghost! Why do you think they don’t want to speak up? Look at their face!”

Ghost’s eyes shift, listening to his sergeant despite the anger that courses through him. Though, when he looks at you he no longer sees the living weapon, the cocky rookie nor the monster the higher ups created. Your eyes are blown wide, just like the soldier that stopped him in his tracks earlier today, and he doesn’t find a hint of anything he used to describe you in your current state or ever to be honest.

No, you’re terrified, looking at him like he’s the monster himself.

—————-

NEXT CHAPTER

no animals were harmed in the making of this fic

COD MASTERLIST buy me a coffee :)

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[obsesssedblerd]

au where older brother! sukuna realizes just how much he loves his little brother when he's sick.

--

Sukuna is always pretending that he doesn't care for his younger brother, Yuuji. Always throws him around when they're play fighting, jumps out and scares him just because he thinks it's funny, and eats his snacks to get a rise out of him. Typical mean older brother behavior.

But then one morning, it takes the five year-old a little too long to get out of bed.

Sukuna immediately notices how quiet he is and the look of discomfort on his face when he finally makes it to the table for breakfast. Yuuji is usually so quick to devour his food, but today, he's not even touching it, even though it's his favorite breakfast that Sukuna makes for him all of the time despite his grumpy complaints.

"Eat your food, brat. If you keep waiting, it'll get cold," Sukuna grumbles as he nudges the fork next to the boy's plate.

Yuuji silently grabs the fork, unaware of his oldest brother watching him like a hawk. He gathers a forkful of food but drops it with a barely-audible whimper, as if he were in pain. Sukuna has never heard him make that sound before, and his gut twists as his mind starts to run wild. "Can't," he whines. "Don't feel good, Kuna."

"Don't feel good how? If you're—" The room resounds with his loud gasp when Yuuji suddenly whips around faces the ground and vomits. Sukuna's arm shoots forward to stop the young boy from falling off of the chair and onto the floor. "Shit," he hisses through his teeth.

Once he was finished, Yuuji faces him. His labored breathing, teary eyes and trembling body made Sukuna's heart ache within his ribs. "I'm sorry," Yuuji says, and he makes that pained, whimpering sound again. "Know you hate w-when I make a mess. My tummy hurts."

"No, 's okay," Sukuna whispers as he rubs his back in an attempt to comfort him. His crimson eyes are still wide, and his heart is beating so fast and so loud that he can hear it in his ears. "You're okay. It can be cleaned up. Do you feel better?"

Yuuji shakes his head quietly. Sukuna tries to get Yuuji to go to his room to lay down, but he struggles to leave the table. So, he gently lifts him into his arms, avoiding the mess on the floor and walks down the hallway. Sukuna stops by the bathroom and has him rinse his mouth with some mouthwash, then makes it to Yuuji's bedroom and lays him in bed.

"Just stay here, okay? Hey, look, here's your tiger!" Sukuna holds up Yuuji's favorite stuffed animal to try and cheer him up, and his heart sinks when the kid doesn't react excitedly as he usually does. He doesn't gasp happily, his eyes don't light up, and he doesn't smile. Yuuji just weakly tugs the tiger towards him and cuddles against it with a low whine.

"If you need to throw up again, use this bucket, okay? I'll be back in a little bit." Sukuna places an empty trash can next to Yuuji's bed, then leaves his room, going straight back to the kitchen so he can find the cause of his sickness. His mind races as he goes through the contents of the fridge.

He said his stomach hurts. It had to have been something he ate yesterday. Breakfast was the same as usual, we went to that restaurant for lunch, and I made dinner yesterday. The meat was cooked all the way through and the vegetables were fresh. So, maybe it was what he ate at that restaurant for lunch? What could've made him throw up?

Shit, speaking of, he still needed to clean the mess from earlier. He closes the fridge, cleans up the floor, then looks at Yuuji's untouched plate of food. He had to get him to eat somehow.

As Sukuna's putting away the cleaning supplies, he hears Yuuji whine again. He drops what's in his hands and rushes back into his room, only to wince when sees him coughing after throwing up into the bucket he left. Like before, Yuuji frantically apologizes, even though he's begun crying because of the discomfort. "Why are you apologizing, brat? You got into the bucket, so..." Sukuna trails off as he starts thinking about it.

He's apologizing so much because I shout at him so much.

Any little mess, any little mistake that kids his age usually make, any accident at all, and Sukuna would get upset at him. Though Yuuji loves Sukuna and isn't afraid to show it, he's developed a habit of apologizing for every little thing, and it's led to this; him, telling him that he's sorry even though he's sick.

The revelation has him feeling a bit nauseous now. He looks down at his baby brother, who's now laying on his bed with his eyes shut and sniffling, and soothingly strokes his head. "I'm sorry, Yuuji," Sukuna's apology is too quiet, and since Yuuji is exhausted and half-asleep, he doesn't hear it. "I'm gonna help you get better. Promise."

Yuuji takes a small nap as Sukuna frantically searches the internet for an answer, each click only adding to his fear and anxiety. Over the next few hours, Yuuji cycles between refusing food, throwing up, and sleeping. Sukuna knew that he was going to have to get him to a hospital, and he knows how much Yuuji hates hospitals since his grandfather passed away. It would only add to the boy's discomfort.

But he didn't have a choice. If this kept up, it would only get worse. He hasn't eaten anything. As he cleaned up another accident that Yuuji had, all he could think of was how much he missed hearing him laugh as he chased him around, his mischievous giggles as he popped him with rubber bands or drawing stick figures and trying his best to get his tattoos right. Seeing him so sick, so weak, and hearing him cry like this was gut-wrenching.

He's reaching for his phone. Since his car is currently in the shop for repairs—thanks, Gojo—, he's going to need to ask someone for help. Choso is out of town, so there's no point in calling him. But, he does know someone else who will drop everything for Yuuji.

He calls you.

---

pt. 2 coming soon. promise. <3

[hotchnersangel]

SPORTS CAR

Aaron Hotchner.

a/n: obsesseddddd w this song and Hotch recently soooo… first upload pls don’t judge me ok ily

warnings: allusions to sex, age-gap, richhhh hotch (yummy), idrk what else just enjoy.

Seeing the bau in casual clothing felt foreign, it was such an odd feeling to see the professionals you spend majority of your hours in the day with less professional and more… humane. More so with Aaron Hotchner, the teams unit chief. Goddamn was he a vision in his suits, but my god, you never knew how much you needed to see him in jeans.

The bau had planned a day out together, to create some time and memories not involving horrific crimes. They arranged to meet at Rossi’s mansion and so thats where you were, gathered outside chatting to Em and Rossi when a sleek all black sports car rolls into his driveway, you eye it skeptically, expecting Morgan to appear but when it stops and you see who gets out, you freeze.

Aaron Hotchner, in jeans, like you were, strolling up to the group of you. Rossi and Emily whistling as he neared, pressing the lock button without even looking. The breath was knocked out of your chest, damn that was hot. His sunglasses perched perfectly on his face.

“Damn Hotch, sweet ride.” Emily praises, gawking at the car.

“Thank you,” he says courteously, nodding at her.

“I think i need some of this pay check you’re getting,” you joke, smirking at him. He looks so very rich right now.

“We don’t have a large difference, darling.” He shoots nonchalantly, crossing his arms as he stands opposite you.

“Honey,” you shoot back giving him a look, “I certainly don’t have the disposable income for this baby.” You admire the car.

“I can give you a ride later if you’d like,” he shrugs casually, “I’ll drop you home.”

You agree, no way are you declining a ride involving Hotch.

After a lovely evening spent with the team, you were content and happy with the outcome of your day. Though you couldn’t stop thinking about Hotch, every time he spoke, everytime he laughed, when he smiled you had to squeeze your thighs together subtly. The evening drew to a close and Aaron continued his offer to give you a lift home.

You walk out of Rossi’s mansion and follow Hotch to his car. He opens the door for you. “After you, ma’am.”

You bite your lip as you get in, looking around at the luxurious interior which somehow even felt humble despite this car being worth more than your apartment probably. “I feel extra luxurious today. A mansion, a sports car, i could get used to this.”

He smirks as he gets in, turning the engine on. “The FBI has clearly been doing well this year.” He jokes and you huff a laughter.

“I never thought you were the type for a sports car,” you say, looking over at him. He looks back.

“How come?” He implies, his hand on the gears, making you salivate a bit more than usual. “Hm?”

“You just- you’re so rich and you never show it.” You shrug, looking how dangerously close his hand is to your thigh.

He laughs, genuinely laughs. “It was my dream car as a kid, I thought if i could buy at least one thing for selfish reasons- it can be this.”

“Damn right, it’s hot.” You say boldly.

“The car? Or me?” He smirks and catches your eye again as he pulls into a drive through. “See, I’m keeping humble.”

“You.” You breathe out and look as he enters the drive through.

“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks you with a smirk.

You order your meals and sit in the parking lot, an isolated lot but he still parks in the shadows. You sit and eat your meals, occasionally looking over at Hotch who keeps stealing dips from your sauce. One time however, he spills it on the seat of your chair.

“Fuck, Hotch.” You panic, getting ready to apologise.

“No worries, I’ll get it cleaned.” He says calmly, counteracting your panic.

“But-“

“It’s literally my mess, sweetheart.” He gives you a pointed look and smirks.

“Well, now i have to sit in the sauce.” You shoot sassily and he smirks.

“There’s hardly anything on it.”

“Yeah there is,” you point at it and shift in your seat. “Guess we will have to share one seat.” You smirk at him, his eyes darkening.

“We can share one seat, honey.” He moves his food out of the way, patting his lap. You smirk as you climb over the centre console and straddle his waist, resting all your weight on your knees. His hands grip your waist and slowly make their way to your face, sensually dragging over your sides. Your knees go weak, losing all composure which makes you drop onto his lap. Your core touching his. At this, you both let out a sigh.

“Fuck.” You sigh, moving your hands to his chest. “Cute jeans by the way.” You smirk at him.

“Thank you.” He nods curtly, pulling you closer.

You arch your back until you’re close to his ear. “Take mine off me.”

You pull back, biting your lip. His eyes widen with surprise at your boldness, but soon fade into a large smirk as his hands move into your hair. “You want this?”

You nod desperately, not meaning to come across so needy. “For a while.”

“Me too, baby.” He says pulling you closer to him and brushing his lips against yours. The kiss started soft and emotionally connected but soon turned passionate. His hands move over your spine and then back into your hair, pulling it into a ponytail then tugging at it. This action made you gasp into the kiss where he then let his tongue slip into your mouth.

You both pull away for some air and he looks up at you, “you wanna do this here?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I don’t care, in the alley, in the back- in the center of a room, with all of these windows rolled down.”

He looks up at you, pecking your lips. “And which would you prefer, darling?”

“Boy, don’t make me choose.” You retort, giving him a look and he pulls you closer by your top.

“I’m far from a boy darling,” he looks into your eyes.

“Show me then.” You retort.

He pulls you back into a kiss, his hands falling down your back, groping at the skin until they fall on the lower side and push you forwards, his hands resting on your behind, occasionally groping at the skin. You let out a small moan into the kiss and he stops.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He mumbles but doesn’t move.

“Have you got a girlfriend or something?” You shoot back, concerned to his answer at the positioning of you over his hardened crotch and the tight grip he has on your ass.

“No.”

“So you ain’t got no Mrs? What is holding you back then?” You ask, whispering in his ear again and placing a kiss on his neck. He sighs at the feeling.

“I’m your boss.” He says and you kiss his neck again.

“Mhm,” you hum into his skin and you gently suck at the skin.

“I’m almost double your age.” He states, and you don’t pull back but more desperately lapse your tongue on the skin.

“Carry on…”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I sure hope it is.” You giggle against his side earning a stifled laugh.

“I’m serious. I think you just think you want this, but you won’t actually.” He says seriously.

“Yet your hand is still groping my arse.” You say looking at him. “I think you wanna…” you trail off and roll your hips over his, grinding against his clothed erection.

You both let out a strangled moan, realising how much you are in need of this.

“Unless… you wanna do it on your own while you’re looking at me.” You look up at him innocently and flutter your eyelashes.

You’re cut off by Aaron’s hands desperately pulling you closer and certainly there was a few rounds in this ride for you both.

————————

[voxisdaddy]

Love Me, Please

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairings: Alastor/Lucifer/Adam/Husk/Angel/Vox/Valentino/Tom Trench/Saint Peter

Type: Scenarios/Comfort

C/TW: Swearing, blood, reader written with fem parts in mind (bc this bout periods, duh)

In which you miss your boyfriend/cling to your boyfriend and are being emotional about it. Basically—period emotions.

This is more for me bc it’s that time of the month and I desperately want some comfort lol | also Angel’s I left up to either be platonic or romantic

Alastor

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He was at yet another unremarkable overlord meeting when he felt something pulling on him. Back at the hotel, you laid on your bed wrapped in a cocoon of sorts, eyes tiredly watching your shadow pulling on one of Alastor’s shadows-which he left to keep an eye on you. Alastor’s grin turned to one of amusement—oh how needy you are when it’s that time of the month for you. The meeting finally came to a close and instead of making his way back to the hotel with a lovely stroll, he disappears in his shadows. Not before bidding a friendly farewell with his dear friend, Rosie. He materializes in the center of your room with a shit eating grin as he twirls his microphone around.

“I was hardly apart from you for more than an hour, my dear.”

Lucifer

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lucifer had errands he couldn’t postpone today and so he made you promise to text him when you miss him and he’ll make his way right back in a jiffy! The bedroom door only closed behind him when he got a text from you. An ‘I miss you’ along with a sad face emoticon. He burst the door open, tears welling up in his eyes, as he crawled back into bed with you to hold you close. You honestly thought he was more emotional than you at the moment.

“My poor ducky! I’m sowwy!”

Adam

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Adam has been around for ages so I like to think he knows a bit about menstruation. On top of that, he has an army of baddies he likes spending time with-usually training but that's still time spent with them regardless. However he's definitely still rough around the edges since usually with his girls, he uses that to egg them on into being tougher fighters either physically or emotionally. If you're a person who's quick to be a grump or a crying mess then uhhh...just know he doesn't mean to be a dick all the time. He tries though, despite how annoying and tiresome it is. Especially since you make him feel oh so special with how you seem to demand his attention and his attention only. Right now you lay on his chest, looking on at the items set on the coffee table with a glint of amusement.

"Babe-you said pads with wings! I got that! I even made sure the chicken wings came with the good sauce."

Husk

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Husk is very vigilant so he's quickly able to come to the conclusion that you're on your period before even you realize it. It was just after he finished closing up the bar and returned to your room for a late nights rest when he smelt it. He might technically be an old man, but he's a respectful one and has been around for quite some time. He knows that small. Despite knowing you might be embarrassed to find out that he can smell it, he figured you'd be more grateful that he woke you up so you can deal with it before you wake up feeling all gross and annoyed in the morning. Plus it was worth it to almost immediately get a hug from you after being apart for a few extra hours than he liked.

"Come on. Don't wanna ruin your new pajama's now, do you baby doll?

Angel Dust

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This man was out on a much needed night out with his long time bestie, Cherri Bomb. You of course coming as his plus one that his bestie always welcomed like the supportive girly she is. He couldn't quite enjoy himself as much this time around though as he sat at in a corner booth with you hunched over your drink. You're hand gripping one of his hands as if you're afraid he's gonna leave. Despite how awkward he felt trying to comfort you, he did his best and allowed himself to be as sympathetic as much as he could.

"Toot's-if you wanna leave it's okay! You know I'll stick with ya! No need to make ya headache worse than it already is!"

Vox

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox still holds certain belief's and mindsets he had from his time in the 1950's. Part of that meaning him being 'grossed out' by your period and beliefs in woman faking or over exaggerating their monthly disturbances. He learned to keep his opinions to himself though, due to previous encounters with Velvette, and found it easier to just well, cater to your needs. They were easy enough for the most part. Food and beverage cravings? He's got ya covered. Cramps and aches? You're in luck because this man is basically one large heating pad. Which quickly became a downside for him because then you wanted him all the time. Didn't matter if he was working or not. He tried to put his foot down once but it only made you emotional so uhhh-

"Honey, I'll only be gone for one hour. As soon as the meeting ends, I'll lay my head on your stomach, okay?"

Valentino

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Valentino can only smirk to himself when he finds out it's now your time of the month. Which isn't hard to figure out since he woke up to you latched onto him like a koala this morning. A puff of red smoke invades your senses as a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders, a third hand coming to play with the top of your head. Valentino, spending years working with woman and people who endure this bloody cycle, knows a few...remedy's. He has his favourite solutions, obviously. Only if you're down. The last time he tried being more...persuasive with his advances to you during these times, it didn't go well-to put it lightly.

"Mi cariño~A good fucking helps with this time of the month, you kno-" ... "Or we could share some snacks. Kitty!"

Tom Trench

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ For this man I pray you are not a bitch on your period. Poor guy already has to deal with his co-star Katie Killjoy everyday. Whatever you deal with on your period though, just know your man is there and keeps your needy ass close. Such as right now, as you sit in an oversized fuzzy hoodie on Tom's couch, watching him and Katie host the latest news live. You glance down at your phone with Tom's messages open. You want to text him but you knew it wouldn't reach him anyways-they had to keep their devices on silent while they hosted. As soon as they were finished with their shift of the day however, Tom rushed to his dressing room to find you staring at the door with open arms.

"The interns told me you were waiting for me."

Saint Peter

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This man would never admit it out loud, and if he did he would word it very carefully, but he loves it when its your time of the month. I mean he feels bad for you obviously; dealing with an inconvenience once a month even in your afterlife does not sound like any sort of blessing, but he's clingy and affectionate himself. And you clinging to him just as much? Oh it's like he's died and went to Heaven-again! Currently he lays on the couch with you in his arms, you both engulfing each other in a snuggly cuddle. He periodically checks the time-as much as he loves this he's still got a job to do. He voices this but quickly finds himself soothing you.

"I'm only going to work, sweetheart! P-please don't cry!"

This was supposed to be reader missing them but some of them became not exactly that and I’m sorry lol

I’ve had this in my drafts for a month, felt about right to finally post it. I’m also ashamed to admit, it took me way too long trynna figure out what to write for Tom’s dialogue. I love him but if I don’t know him as well as I thought 😭

[amyzworldds]

Title: A Tale of Unsaid Love

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

During a rare break, Y/N connects with Vernon via facetime, his tired grin beaming from a hectic post-show dressing room as he playfully ropes her into his world. Pairing: Vernon x reader Genre: Fluff, lil bit of angst cause it's one-sided love??

The phone screen flickered as Vernon adjusted the angle, propping it up against a makeup palette on the cluttered counter. The dressing room buzzed with activity—stylists darting around, the low hum of a hairdryer, and Seungkwan’s voice cutting through the chaos as he argued with someone about the setlist. Y/N watched it all unfold from her cozy spot on her couch, her blanket pulled up to her chin, a mug of tea steaming on the coffee table. It was her day off, a rare moment of peace, and yet here she was, tethered to Vernon’s world through a FaceTime call.

“Yo, Y/N, you still there?” Vernon’s voice pulled her attention back to the screen. His face was half-covered as a makeup artist dabbed foundation across his cheeks, but his eyes flicked toward the camera, catching her gaze. He looked tired—tour life was no joke—but that familiar lazy grin tugged at his lips.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she replied, forcing a smile. “You look like a mess, though. Did you even sleep?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Barely. Last night’s show ran late, and then we had to catch a flight. But it’s the last day, so I’m pushing through. You good, though? You’re quiet today.”

She shrugged, hoping he couldn’t see the way her heart twisted at how effortlessly he cared. “Just chilling. It’s my day off, remember? No work, no stress.”

“Lucky,” he teased, tilting his head so the makeup artist could blend something near his jawline. “Meanwhile, I’m over here getting poked in the face.”

“Poor baby,” she shot back, her tone playful despite the ache in her chest. This was their rhythm—her yapping, him chilling—and it had been that way since high school. Back then, she’d been his loudest cheerleader, the one dragging him out of slumps with her endless energy. Now, he was Vernon—global star, surrounded by screaming fans and flawless backup dancers—while she was still just… Y/N. His best friend. Nothing more.

She glanced away from the screen, pretending to adjust her blanket. The truth was suffocating her lately. She’d liked him for so long it felt like a permanent part of her, like a tattoo she couldn’t scrub off. And these FaceTime calls? They were torture. Seeing his face, hearing his voice—it was like pouring salt on a wound she couldn’t let heal.

“Hold up, don’t you dare hang up,” Vernon said suddenly, his voice sharp. She froze, her finger hovering over the red button. She’d mumbled something about letting him focus, but apparently, he’d caught it.

“I wasn’t—” she started, but he cut her off with a mock glare.

“Liar. You always do this when I’m getting ready. Just stay, alright? I like having you here.”

Her stomach flipped. I like having you here. He said it so casually, like it was no big deal, but to her, it was everything. Too much, even. She swallowed hard and nodded, settling back against the cushions. “Fine, fine. But don’t blame me if I distract you and you end up with eyeliner on your forehead.”

He snorted. “Deal.”

In the background, Seungkwan popped into frame, leaning over Vernon’s shoulder to wave at her. “Y/N! Tell Vernon he’s wrong—‘Holidays’ should totally open the set tonight, right?”

“Uh, sure?” she laughed, grateful for the distraction. “You’re the expert, Seungkwan.”

“See? She gets it,” Seungkwan said triumphantly, nudging Vernon before disappearing again. The other members were the same—always roping her into their chaos, treating her like part of the family. It made her feel special, but it also sharpened the line between her and Vernon. She was the best friend they all adored, not the girl he’d ever look at differently.

The makeup artist finished up, stepping back to reveal Vernon in full concert mode—sharp jawline accentuated, eyes smudged with dark liner, hair tousled just right. He looked unreal, like he belonged on a magazine cover, not her phone screen. He caught her staring and smirked. “What? Too pretty for you now?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, cheeks heating. “You’re passable, I guess.”

“Passable? Wow, I’m wounded.” He clutched his chest dramatically, then leaned closer to the phone. “Seriously, though, you’re coming to the afterparty next week, right? We’re back in town, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Her heart stuttered. “Vernon, I don’t know… I’m not exactly VIP material.”

He frowned, his laid-back vibe shifting to something more stubborn. “You’re my VIP. Always have been. Just say yes, Y/N. I haven’t seen you in person in forever.”

She hesitated, torn between the thrill of being near him and the dread of watching him shine in a world she’d never fit into. But his eyes were on her, soft and insistent, and she couldn’t say no. She never could.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But if I trip over a celebrity and embarrass myself, it’s on you.”

“Deal,” he grinned, victorious. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

The call lingered a little longer, with Vernon rambling about the tour and her chiming in with sarcastic commentary. But as she watched him—laughing, glowing, surrounded by a life she’d never be part of—the ache grew sharper. He’d catch her if she fell, sure. But who’d catch her heart when it kept breaking for him?

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

Y/N jolted awake to the sound of her phone buzzing insistently against her nightstand. She groaned, blindly reaching for it in the dark, her voice thick with sleep as she mumbled, “What the hell… it’s, like, 2 a.m.” The screen lit up with Vernon’s name, and despite her exhaustion, her heart did that stupid little flip it always did. She swiped to answer, squinting at the sudden brightness.

“Yo, Y/N, you asleep already?” Vernon’s voice came through, way too chipper for someone who’d just finished a world tour. Behind him, she could hear the muffled chaos of the members—laughter, shouting, and what sounded like someone banging a water bottle against a table.

She rubbed her eyes, sitting up slightly. “Uh, yeah, because normal people sleep at this hour, Vernon. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, grinning into the camera. He was still in his stage outfit—black leather jacket, smudged eyeliner, hair a sweaty mess. “Concert just ended, and I missed you. Had to call.”

“It’s been, like, an hour since we talked,” she deadpanned, flopping back onto her pillow. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely devoted,” he corrected, winking. Before she could retort, a chorus of voices erupted in the background.

“Vernon, give it a rest—let her sleep!” Seungkwan’s face popped into frame, his stage makeup still on, making his expressions even more dramatic. “Y/N, tell him to chill. He’s been yapping about you all night.”

“Shut up, dude,” Vernon said, shoving Seungkwan out of the shot with a laugh. “She loves it.”

“I do not,” Y/N protested, though her lips twitched upward. “I was having a great dream about not being woken up by you clowns.”

“Clowns?” Another voice chimed in—Joshua, leaning over Vernon’s shoulder with a teasing grin. “That’s harsh, Y/N. We’re your favorites, admit it.”

“Debatable,” she shot back, pulling her blanket higher. “Why are you all still in costume? Don’t you have, like, a van to catch?”

“We’re heading out soon,” Vernon said, plugging a power bank into his phone with a triumphant little smirk. “But I’m not hanging up. Battery’s at 10%, but I’ve got backup. You’re stuck with me.”

She groaned dramatically. “Oh my God, Vernon, go live your rockstar life and let me sleep!”

“Nope,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair as the makeup room buzzed around him. “You’re my rockstar life.”

Her cheeks burned at that, and she buried her face in her pillow to hide it, hoping the dim light of her room masked her reaction. “You’re so corny,” she muttered into the fabric.

“Only for you,” he replied, unfazed. The members burst into laughter again, and she could hear DK’s voice now, loud “Two best friends hanging out, they might—”

“Shut up,” Vernon said, swatting at the air, but he was grinning too hard to sell the annoyance. “You’re all jealous.”

“Of what? Your clinginess?” Seungkwan reappeared, snatching Vernon’s phone for a second to point it at himself. “Y/N, seriously, how do you deal with this guy? He’s been whining about missing you since soundcheck.”

“I have not,” Vernon protested, yanking the phone back. “I’m just… keeping her updated.”

“Updated on your every breath?” Y/N said, finally sitting up properly, her hair a mess. “You’re ridiculous. Go change or something—I can hear you sweating through the screen.”

“Fine, fine,” he relented, standing up and walking toward a corner of the room. He set the phone down on a table, the camera angled awkwardly at the ceiling. “But I’m not hanging up. Talk to me while I change.”

“Vernon!” she yelped, scandalized. “At least mute the video!”

“Relax, I’m not stripping on camera,” he laughed, his voice slightly muffled as he pulled off his jacket. “Just keep me company. What’d you do after our last call?”

She sighed, resigned to her fate, and leaned back against her headboard. “I ate some leftovers, watched half an episode of that drama you hate, and passed out. Thrilling stuff.”

“See? You need me to spice up your life,” he said, his voice closer now as he picked up the phone again. He was in a plain black hoodie now, stage outfit gone, but the eyeliner still made him look unfairly good. “What’d I miss in the drama?”

“Nothing you’d care about,” she teased. “Someone cried, someone yelled, you’d probably fall asleep.”

“Probably,” he agreed, slumping into a seat as the members started piling out of the room. “Alright, we’re heading to the van. You’re coming with.”

“Great,” she said sarcastically, but she didn’t hang up either. She could hear the shuffle of footsteps, the low hum of the van’s engine starting, and Vernon’s quiet breathing as he settled in. The members’ chatter filled the background, and every so often, one of them would lean over to say hi to her—Wonwoo’s soft “Hey, Y/N,” or Mingyu’s loud “Tell Vernon to stop hogging you!”

“Never,” Vernon said, pulling the phone closer to his face. “She’s mine tonight.”

“Gross,” she muttered, but her heart was doing somersaults again. She tried to distract herself by fidgeting with her blanket. “You’re so annoying. I should mute you and go back to sleep.”

“You won’t,” he said confidently. “You love my voice too much.”

“Delusional,” she shot back, but she didn’t deny it.

An hour later, the call was still going. The group had stopped at some late-night diner, and Vernon had his phone propped up on the table, showing her the spread of burgers, fries, and milkshakes. He was mid-bite when he suddenly pointed at the screen. “Wait, you’re not eating. That’s not fair.”

“It’s 3 a.m., Vernon,” she said, exasperated. “I’m not hungry.”

“Too bad,” he said, pulling out his phone to tap at the screen. “I’m ordering you something. What do you want?”

“Vernon, no—” she started, but he waved her off.

“Too late. Pizza good? You like pepperoni, right?” He grinned, already confirming the order. “It’ll be there in, like, 15 minutes. Eat with me.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re insane. Certifiably insane.”

“And you love it,” he said, popping a fry into his mouth. “Come on, it’s a virtual dinner date.”

“A what?” she sputtered, her face heating up again.

“Dinner. Date.” He repeated it slowly, like she hadn’t heard, then smirked. “You, me, food. Perfect.”

“Stop flirting with her, it’s embarrassing,” Seungkwan called from across the table, making the others laugh.

“I’m not flirting,” Vernon said, but his eyes stayed on her, soft and playful. “I’m just taking care of my best friend.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands, torn between annoyance and the overwhelming sweetness of it all. “You’re impossible,” she mumbled through her fingers.

“Yeah, but you’re still here,” he said, leaning closer to the camera. “So I win.”

The members kept teasing, the food kept coming, and the call stretched well into the early morning. Vernon didn’t hang up once—not when the pizza arrived at her door, not when he made her take a bite on camera so they could “cheers” with their food, not even when his eyes started drooping from exhaustion. And as much as she complained, Y/N didn’t either. Because as infuriating as he was, he was still Vernon—her Vernon—and she’d never been good at letting him go.

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

The van’s engine rumbled faintly through the phone speaker, a steady hum that had lulled Vernon into silence. Y/N watched the screen, her own eyes heavy as the clock ticked past 4 a.m. The camera was tilted awkwardly, showing Vernon slumped against the window, his head bobbing with the motion of the road. His stage makeup was still smudged under his eyes, but his breathing had slowed, soft and even. He was out cold.

She smiled faintly, her thumb hovering over the “end call” button. This was her chance—finally, a clean break to let him rest and herself breathe. She’d text him something simple, like, “Goodnight, congrats on crushing the tour, you’re the best.” Short, sweet, safe. She shifted to grab her charger, ready to call it a night, when the screen suddenly jolted.

“Vernon?” she whispered, startled, as the camera swung around. The van had stopped, and he was blinking awake, rubbing his eyes like a kid who’d just napped through a car ride. The other members’ voices filtered through—muffled goodbyes and groans about sore muscles—but Vernon ignored them, fumbling with his phone.

“Don’t hang up,” he mumbled, voice raspy with sleep. “We’re at the hotel. Gimme a sec.”

“Vernon, you were literally asleep,” she said, exasperated. “Go crash in a real bed.”

“I will,” he said, already tapping the FaceTime button again as he climbed out of the van. “Just… stay with me, okay?”

The call dropped for a moment, then her phone buzzed right back. She sighed, swiping to answer, and there he was again—alone now, trudging through a hotel hallway, his hoodie pulled up and his power bank dangling from his hand. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but there was no bite to it. She was too tired, and honestly, too weak for him.

“Not ridiculous,” he countered, pushing open his room’s door with his shoulder. “Just missed you.” He kicked off his shoes, tossed his bag onto the floor, and flopped face-first onto the bed with a groan. “Tour’s done. I survived. Barely.”

“You’re a hero,” she teased, propping her phone against a pillow so she could lie down too. “Now sleep. You look like a zombie.”

He rolled onto his side, peeling off his hoodie to reveal a plain t-shirt underneath. His face was bare now—he’d wiped off the makeup, leaving him looking softer, younger, without the sharp edge of eyeliner or the smudge of shadow. Tired, too. His eyes were half-lidded, fighting to stay open as he propped the phone beside him, resting his head on his arm. “Long day,” he mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a small, lazy smile tugging at his lips as he looked at her through the screen.

“Vernon,” she said gently, “you’re dead on your feet. Sleep.”

“Nah,” he murmured, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Wanna hear you talk. Tell me something. Anything.”

She sighed, sinking deeper into her blankets. This wasn’t new. It happened every tour, every stretch of time when they couldn’t meet face-to-face. He’d call, clingy and stubborn, and she’d ramble until he drifted off. It was their unspoken ritual, one she both loved and dreaded. Loved, because it was Vernon needing her. Dreaded, because it made letting go of him that much harder.

“Fine,” she said, resigned. “Uh… work was boring yesterday. My boss keeps mispronouncing ‘espresso’ like ‘expresso,’ and it’s driving me insane. Oh, and I almost tripped over a cat on my way home. Black one. Super cute, though. I named it Shadow in my head.”

“Shadow,” he repeated, his voice a sleepy drawl. “Solid name. What else?”

She kept going, her voice soft and steady, weaving a thread of mundane stories—how she burned her toast that morning, how she found an old mixtape they’d made in high school, how she still couldn’t believe he’d survived a world tour. His responses dwindled to quiet hums, his eyes fluttering shut, then snapping open again like he was fighting a losing battle.

“Vernon,” she said after a while, watching his chest rise and fall. “You’re asleep. I’m gonna hang up now.”

“No,” he mumbled, barely coherent. “Keep going. Please.”

She laughed under her breath, a mix of fondness and frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes fully closed now. “Love hearing you, though.”

Her heart stuttered at that, a familiar ache blooming in her chest. She waited, counting his breaths until they deepened, until his face went slack and peaceful. He was out—really out this time. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of sheets as he shifted slightly, his phone still propped beside him.

She should’ve hung up. She meant to. But instead, she stayed there, watching him sleep, the glow of her screen casting soft shadows across her room. It was a habit she couldn’t shake—staring at him when he couldn’t see her, letting her guard slip just enough to feel what she always buried.

“I love you,” she whispered, so quiet it barely broke the silence. “You don’t even know, do you? How much I’ve loved you this whole time.”

His chest rose and fell, undisturbed. She’d done this before—confessed to a sleeping Vernon when he got like this, too clingy, too close, too everything. It was her secret release, a way to say it without ruining what they had. Because he was Vernon—big, bright, untouchable Vernon—and she was just his best friend. The yapper to his chill. The shadow to his spotlight.

“You’re so stupid,” she muttered, her voice cracking with a sad little laugh. “Calling me all day like this. Ordering me pizza. Making me feel like… like I’m special. And then you just sleep, and I’m stuck here loving you, and it sucks.”

She pressed her lips together, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes. “I keep thinking it’ll go away, you know? That one day I’ll wake up and I won’t feel like this. But it’s been years, Vernon. Years. And you’re still… you.”

He didn’t stir, didn’t hear. Just slept, oblivious, while she poured her heart out to a screen. She rested her cheek on her pillow, mirroring his position, and let herself look at him—really look. The curve of his jaw, the faint freckles she knew by heart, the way his hair fell over his forehead. He was beautiful, even exhausted, even unaware.

“Goodnight, Vernon,” she said finally, softer now. “You did amazing. I’m proud of you. Always.”

She didn’t hang up. Not yet. She left the call running, the sound of his breathing a quiet tether between them. It was foolish, maybe—holding onto this, letting herself love him in silence. But it was all she had, and for now, it was enough. Someday, she told herself, she’d move on. Someday, her heart would let him go.

Right?

[keferon]

Ok i said i would do itater, but this was done for my sister who got really hurt and wanted comfort out of my drabble, shout out to you @saltynsassy31 XD

This will probably be very OOC bc again, i am NOT too acquainted with these characters

So apologies in advance, but i think this will still be very entertaining for you :]

So yeah, here's part 2!

---

Jazz was tired, they haven't given him much time to rest since he came back. And even if they did, it's not like he could rest anyways, thinking about....about Prowl.

No way he could have just left him, right? After everything....it just didn't feel right, and the way they spoke to him about it too. Call him crazy but something in his gut told him they were hiding something from him. But it just never seemed enough to push him to look into it (oh how he would regret that for the rest of his life)

Today was supposed to be a normal routine check to the new mechas, with new recruits coming in for him to teach.

Jazz was given a new mecha suit, despite his protests to it (which surprised even him honestly, but it just didn't feel right). He hadn't gotten the chance to see it yet, today was the day they would present the new model, though it was said to be in its early stages still.

...

He doesn't know how it happened, how he'd gotten here, but all he knew was that he had seen red. When he gotten to see his new mech suit, it seemed oddly familiar in touch, in fact something about it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Small dents and scarring coated the plating around the panels that opened to the cockpit. He recognised that plating, from crawling on it with his magnets, sleeping on them comfortably despite being made of metal (there was something so warm about it, but that warmth was....lost. He wanted to puke). But what broke the string holding him together, a scar, a scar so familiar it sent him back to the exact moment he witnessed his partner getting it in the first place.

Jazz had weilded that shut himself, they had gotten in a bad scuffle a while back, and with worry he wanted to try and make sure Prowl wouldn't be in too much pain before they could get some proper help.

"Jazz?" Someone called out to him. That was the last thing he remembered.

Now? Now he stood by the halls in which they didn't allow the likes of him inside, the halls in which the scientists worked on. He made a fast dash to the last room, the room one of the scientists told him had the one he was looking for (though he wasn't proud to admit he had perhaps aggressively gotten that answer out of the poor guy). He had a weird unknown blaster weapon with him that he had ripped from the mech suit he was supposed to try out (deep down, he hoped that weapon didn't belong to Prowl. He hoped that he wasn't too late), using that, he blasted the door open hoping that would keep anyone from stopping him from getting inside.

As soon as Jazz layed his eyes on the scene before him; his partner hanging from wires holding him into place, chain keeping him from leaving, mutilated almost beyong recognition save his face, and with a small weak staticked cry from his partner, "Jazz?" the small bit of awarness he had gained back was gone again. All he could do in that moment was to yell, a desperate cry that came from the pits of his lungs.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!"

And in another flurry of motions he didn’t have complete control over, he was beating the ever living hell out of the prick who decided it was a good idea to mess with HIS partner! He didn’t even know how long he had been at it until the twisted man he called a boss scratched his face, small bits of blood flowing out. In shock and pain, he grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt and threw him to the otherside of the room. Once he was certain that he wouldn't be getting up again, he turned to face Prowl once more, running and calling out to him as he ran to scoop up his beloved's face, blurting out a mess of an apology.

"I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-"

Oh did the guilt eat him up from the inside, he- he shouldn't have brought him here. Prowl probably hated him right now, but the sudden distant bell of an alarm down the halls had him scrambling to his feet to try and make things right.

Suddenly, as adrenaline slowly faded off, he realised how much damage he had actually taken throughout his rampage, a limp on his left leg catching up to him. Stinging pain on his face and limbs, but he needed to keep moving, they weren't safe yet.

"I have to get you to a safe place," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "and- and then maybe call for help. Oh but who could i even go to?" As he spoke, he started to set Prowl's limbs free from it's chains, gods they were so damaged, he could barely look at the missing parts. But as he worked his way through, he let out small sighs of relief to see that at least, he seemed to not be missing some vital parts. He could still maybe make a run for it, if only he could stall the facility long enough-

"You really shouldn't have...."

Jazz turned in shock, Prowl's voice snapping him out of his panicked haze.

"Prowl..." if he wasn’t crying already, now he certainly was. Gods he fucked up badly.

Not having the courage to face the other just yet, he turned back to the chained leg he had been working on. Prowl didn't seem to have wanted an answer either way, sitting up as he watched the organic do his work (Jazz tried to ignore the missing arm).

As he finished getting rid of the chain, he got up again, letting out a hiss of pain from his injuries (which did not go unnoticed by the mech). Clutching his left side as a bleeding cut let out a terrible stinging sensation which he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, he walked over to the final limb stuck under chains. As he walked over, he briefed over the quick plan he thought of

"Look, i- i know you might not trust me right now-" a huff, almost soundling like a disbeliefing chuckle, was heard from the mech, Jazz ignored it. "But there is a place you can go to and hide, hide- hide until maybe i can get help or- or find a way to send you back-"

"You wouldn't make it that far." Prowl spoke, matter of factly, which got a hit under Jazz's skin

"I know that! Which is why you will make a run for it. There's an exit by the other side of this room where you can leave-"

A sudden realisation hit Prowl. Jazz wasn't planning on coming with him.

And the human nodded, seeming to understand that Prowl finally got what he was saying. As he reached the last final screw to Prowl's chains, he finished off what he was trying to say "I'll keep them busy long enough for you to leave," before he could finish, as the final screw was let lose and Prowl was free to move, he felt himself be lift up from the ground and let out a startled yelp. "Wha- HEY!"

It took Jazz being shoved inside Prowl's cockpit for him to realise that he had been picked up by the mech (maybe a possible concussion he thought to himself). Jazz couldn't even try to jump out as, despite it missing the plating to shut him inside, Prowl placed his servo up to close to exit.

Desperately and confused, Jazz called out, "What are you doing?!"

To be entirely honest, Prowl wasn't sure himself, he was just as confused as the human to his actions, usually so full of logic. This one was acted apon pure emotion. Emotion of fear, anxiety, anger but most importantly

Desperation

Because somehow, this stupid human had his spark between his fingers, and he'd be dammed if he let him get himself killed just for him.

This isn't how he would want to say goodbye

---

Thanks again, to my sister who pushed me to write this, and also helped out in some parts!

Might have done more if i could, but it's super late rn lol (it's 4am and our mon will kills us for staying up this late).

Again sorry for any OOC moments, but i hope this was to your enjoyment! Maybe i can do a part 3 to this, but idk enough about how things work to do that, so i let anyone be free to mess around with this :]

Oh my... oh fuck I can't. I just keep thinking about Prowl pressing his palm on his chest even when other humans eventually get to him and start shooting. He's a mess, half of his armor is missing he's probably leaving an energon trail behind him. But he knows that while it would take a lot of bullets to take him down, it would take only one lucky bullet to kill Jazz. I'm. AUGh

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki hates black coffee. it's so obvious it's almost painful. the face he makes when it's done brewing, the way it takes him taking a deep breath and chugging the entire thing in one go to finish and the deep, deep sigh he let's out afterwards.

it's obvious, too obvious. you know it, he knows it.

but he insists on drinking it every single day.

every morning he makes it exactly the same and you just cannot understand why. and you're determined to find out.

today you're both off work. it's been happening less frequently and you couldn't be happier to spend time with your man today. he must've been dead tired, because you woke up before him and his alarm, that he has even though he always manages to wake up before it rings, so you sneakily turn it off and escape from his bear like grip to sneak to the kitchen.

like the great, amazing, loving partner you are, you decide to make him breakfast in bed. you know that despite him not liking overly sweet foods, he still likes him some sugar. you make him pancakes like you know he likes, a family recipe you still haven't told him. you know it's a bit petty, but if he found out he'd probably be able to replicate them to a t immediately and you like taking care of him, and you like the feeling that bubbles in your chest when he groans happily when the food hits his tastebuds and he gobbles it up.

your secret stays safe with you for now.

tray in hand and returning to your bedroom, you're surprised but definitely happy to see him still asleep when you're done. you smile, he truly does deserve the rest after all the work he'd done. you place the tray onto your night stand, running your hands over his eyebrows and slowly running over his messed up hair, thumbing at his hairline. his eyebrows slowly furrow as he tries to lean into it, cheek smudged against the pillow.

"baby.." you sing, katsuki grumbles, shoving his head into his pillow.

"katsuki.." you giggle, running your hand over his back to ease him into waking up. he flips around in an instant, raising an arm up and stretching, his other arm reaches for yours. you give it to him, he squeezes your hand and runs his other one through his hair.

"hi.." you chirp sweetly, katsuki grunts in response, squeezing your hand again in greeting.

"..how long've you been up ?" he asks, voice still deep and gruff from just waking up.

"about an hour.." you respond quietly, easily talking and not in a rush for once. katsuki's eyebrows furrow in confusion and his head whips towards his phone, grabbing it and checking his alarm that had been mysteriously turned off. he turns to squint at you and you giggle, he pinches your thigh and mutters out a "dummy.."

he sniffs the air when he registers the smell of pancakes, and his head quickly zips over to the tray you'd placed there for him. his ears turn pink "you didn't have to do this." you notice how he refrains from adding an affectionate insult towards the end of his sentence, you laugh.

"i know, but i wanted to. now eat up before it gets cold !" you grinned. katsuki sighs, a soft smile pulling at his face before he ducks his head, grabbing the tray and placing it in his lap. his eyes close the moment he gets a bite and your heart beats hard against your chest.

"you seem to be enjoying that." you say cheekily.

" 'm gonna get that recipe outta you one day." he vowed, pointing his fork at you, he groans when he gets another bite "so fuckin' good.." he mutters to himself between bites. you chortle.

after swallowing a few bites in silence, katsuki smacks his lips before he talks again "you just gonna watch me eat ?"

"i'm liking this view," you respond, leaning against your hand and sighing dramatically. katsuki rolls his eyes, an unmistakable blush crosses his cheeks before he's beckoning you over with a 'come here' motion, picking a piece of pancake onto his fork and placing a hand underneath the other as he brings it closer to your lips. "open up," he orders, and you do, tasting your work. you hum happily, and he watches you intently as you do. his eyes drift over to the mug still untouched on the nightstand.

a mug of coffee. black.

he frowns almost immediately, you don't need to look away to know why. you see how he tries to fix his face immediately, you assume so as not to hurt your feelings, your heart warms just a bit more. but you can't help but tease him.

"better drink it before it gets cold.." you sing, trying to sound unbothered. katsuki's grunt borders on a whine as he places his tray to the side. he picks up the mug, making sure to scowl at the black liquid inside, he inhales, before gulping it up quickly.

only to stop, eyebrows furrowing curiously at the flavour.

"it's--"

"good ?" you smile knowingly, you lean back a bit, pressing your legs to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs. you swing slightly side to side.

katsuki slowly blinks at you "what d'you.."

"i put some sugar in it." you admit, you see how katsuki's face drops, eyebrows flying to his hairline. "katsuki, we both know you don't like it plain black. i don't see why you can't just have some sugar in it." you shrug "i know you've got your diet, but it won't kill you."

he leans back, shrinking into the headboard like he'd been caught committing a crime. his lips pull up into a frown.

"i know that, that's not the problem.." he downs the rest of his drink and he sighs afterwards, it almost sounds like a sigh of relief. it makes you snort. "then what is ?"

"i dunno..hadn't had it in a while and figured i'd try it again, see if i like it."

"but you clearly don't."

"i'd get used to it then." he shrugs.

"katsuki.." you sigh, "you don't have to, you know. nothin' wrong with a little sugar." you tease. honestly, you found it cute. you know he's stubborn and he doesn't give up, even against his own body. you'd seen it happen multiple times, but with something so simple as black coffee was pretty funny.

you think, maybe, he's trying to be more grown up. you remember he tried black coffee back in high school and hated it so bad it ruined his mood for the entire day. maybe, he thought he should like it now since he's graduated and he's an adult. it was sweet, just like how he liked his coffee. and it was so him. you want him to know he doesn't have to change a thing, he's perfectly okay and adult as he is now, coffee plain or sugary. with cream or without or with a sweet treat from the bakery next door.

"course i know that." he mutters after a while, smacking his lips when the taste of his coffee still lingers on his tongue. he places it and the tray back on the nightstand. he grabs your hand, pulling you closer to have you sit in his lap. "so come give me some." he smirks at your flustered expression. one hand reaches the back of your neck to pull you closer, his other hand at the small of your back for the same purpose.

"you just ate and you still haven't brushed your teeth, mister." you run your finger in circles over his chest. he gets hot quickly in the night so he likes to sleep shirtless, your hand runs over the shape of the scar on his shoulder. katsuki snorts, sharp teeth on display as he smirks.

"so ? you know you always wanna kiss me." and he smirks because he knows he's right. you huff, but lean down to kiss him anyway, muttering a quick "shut up," before silencing him. he snickers against your mouth and it doesn't take him long to deepen the kiss, you squeal when he flips you over, laying you right back in bed.

"thanks for breakfast." he says against your lips, leaning back in before you could respond "you're not gettin' away anymore, though. you're gonna spend the day here with me, where you're supposed to be." he drops onto you and you let out an "oof !" at the pro hero mass dropped onto you. you grip his shoulders as he kisses from your cheek to your ear.

"d'you like breakfast ?" you breathe out.

"you know i did, don't make me say it again." he grunts out, biting your cheek when you giggle "now i'd like to spend some time with my girl." he mumbles against your shoulders, voice muffled. you giggle, bring his head up to press your lips to his again.

and they taste sweet, just how you like them.

taglist (finally!!) if your name is pink i unfortunately couldnt tag you :((( : @napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77

@katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba

@moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam

@aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1

@niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia

[dmercer91]

can we get a part 2 of luke liking jacks best friend??? maybe where they end up together 🤭

got the girl, lh43

in which luke's behaviour finally clicks and you mess with him until he can admit his feelings out loud (2.0k)

soft, almost needy/naive luke is becoming my favourite cause i love me a boy that's deeply reliant on his snuggles despite being tall and man shaped. a little unproofread and a little silly in the middle, for flavour

when you woke up, you found yourself tucked under lukes arm, your face now a little hidden into his neck so that he could be far up enough on the bed that his legs didn't teeter the edge.

he was sound asleep, a little less of a morning person than you despite his hectic schedule during most of the year.

the summer was his time to sleep until ludicrous hours, and you took note throughout the years that he always took advantage.

he was always the last one of the brothers to hobble downstairs for breakfast, sleep frequently prominent in his eyes and his hair a tangled mess of his curls that were drying out due to the lake water and lack of caring for.

so you let him rest, carefully untangling yourself from his grasp and heading to wash your face, and brush your teeth. it would be a while before quinn was up, usually the most responsible brother who knew that if he got up early enough he could poach some of your breakfast and have a little while of peace in the gym or front yard.

you cleaned up some of the water bottles that had been left in the living room from the night prior, folding the throw blankets and fixing up the pillows before starting to cook your breakfast, deciding on a simple one for today; eggs, toast and some fruit.

what you didn't expect was to hear the creak of the stairs within a few seconds of you frying your eggs, your eyebrows furrowing as you examined the microwave for the time.

a little early for quinn, but you figured it was him anyways. "quinny?" you said, your voice travelling far enough to make it to the stairs but not to make its way upstairs and wake anyone.

when he didn't answer, you turned your head and saw that it was luke, rubbing exhaust from his eyes and sleepily making his way over to you.

you smiled, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into him, and sharp whine echoing into your ear as he saw that you were cooking breakfast.

"it's so early.. come back to bed w' me," he pleaded, tugging you away from the oven and pawing at the knobs of the stove, trying to turn it off.

you giggled, adjusting his arms on you and turning back to your pan, shaking your head.

"i'm making my breakfast, lukey. i can make you some, hm?" he shook his head, tucking his face into your neck as if the natural morning light was too harsh on his eyes.

his arms unravelled from your waist, hands planting on your hips and soothing up and down, pulling your shirt up on your waist a little with each passing.

you bit your lip, his actions from now and last night finally coming together in your brain.

snuggling up with you, staring at you instead of watching a movie he picked out, agreeing to spend the night with you, calling you baby by accident. you weren't sure how you hadn't picked up on it before.

everything was confirmed for you when the stairs croaked once again, now under the feet of the eldest hughes brother. when he saw you, luke still trying to pry your attention away from anything that wasn't him, his face lit with an amused smile.

he knew

you started to ponder on if jack knew, or even trevor and alex. if everyone was painfully aware of luke's eyes always being trained on you and decided to keep it from you.

you blinked back into reality, turning off the stove and plating your eggs. "lu?" you mumbled, offhandedly like you had a question you'd been meaning to ask him for some time, even though it only just come to you.

he hummed, hopeful eyes peeking up at you and his hands coming to a halt. "how about you go get ready and ill make you some breakfast, n' we can have it out on the boat," you murmured, cupping his head in your hand and playing with his curls.

you were gonna see how long it took until he broke, admitted how he'd been feeling.

you watched as his eyes dilated, scanning down to your lips with a deer in headlights-esque look of infatuation. he licked his lips, eyes darting back up to yours as soon as he caught his own staring.

he then nodded, blinking away the evident look of euphoria on his face at the feeling of your hands in his hair.

"oh," he murmured, still nodding along to your question. it was like he was under a spell. "okay," he finished, your hand retreating from his curls and pressing to his chest.

"i'll meet you out there, alright? gotta change once i'm done making your food," you instructed, earning one last nod of confirmation before he finally tore his body away from yours and lugged himself back upstairs and towards his own room.

"don't tell me you're gonna do this until he tells you himself," quinn's voice came from behind you once luke's bedroom door was shut and he couldn't hear the conversation.

"what's the fun in telling him i know? and plus, you can't tell me you didn't love watching that," you gestured to where luke had been standing, calling back to the blindingly obvious pining that the older brother had watched from the stairs.

he nodded a little, smile cracking at his lips as he took the plate of food you had already made for yourself.

you glared at him, mixing together another couple eggs into your bowl now that yours were gone.

"what! they would've been cold by the time you got to the boat anyways," he defended, shovelling a fork full of eggs into his mouth and sitting down at the island.

"y/n?" he asked, swallowing his bite.

you hummed, looking back at him as you poured the eggs into the pan. "you won't just lead him on, will you? like, you feel the same," he asked quietly, eyes avoiding yours after a quick second of eye contact.

your lips pulled back into a smile at his attempt at nonchalant protectiveness over his youngest brother, and you shook your head. "silly question. remember the girl who's face i shoved into a pile of snow? when we were kids?" you recalled, and quinn chuckled.

"yeah. i guess he's kinda always been yours," he stated, much more comfortable now that he knew two of his favourite people would soon stop dancing around each others requited feelings.

when the stairs could be heard again, you were expecting luke, but instead you saw your best friend, gloomy as he stared at you.

"you watched top gun without me, and you had our movie night with my little brother," he pouted, going up to you and ruffling your hair, tugging you into a side hug.

"even?" he asked, looking down at you hopefully.

"you threw me into the pool while i was wearing white. and zegras was there. even," you stuck your hand out, watching as he bashfully took it up to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

"not my brightest impulse decision, i have to admit," he sighed, reaching over your head for a plate and stealing the toast that had come out of the toaster, then some eggs.

you gave him the same glare you'd sent quinn, earning a similarly mischievous grin.

"why'd you make so much if s' not for me?" he wiggled his eyebrows, eyeing luke's bedroom door.

you rolled your eyes, a response you seemed to have needed to resort to one too many times this morning. for future reference, you'd keep in mind that one brother at a time for this hour of the morning was more than enough.

"her and lukey have a breakfast boat date," quinn teased, the two of them looking at each other with excited looks, both with hints of relief that something finally stirred between you and luke.

"at long last was getting a little long, munchkin. good for you," he kissed your forehead, sitting next to quinn at the counter.

"you're both just.. so insufferable" you grumbled, now having to finish off the carton of eggs you'd been using since two plate fulls had been stolen from you.

you popped more toast into the toaster, frowning at the empty plate of strawberries you’d cut up and grabbing the container of unsliced ones to make up some more.

switching focus back to the eggs, you scrambled them up and shook the pan around, ensuring a more even cook.

then, thing one and thing two came jogging downstairs in a full fledged conversation at the top of their lungs

“no, no. i totally kicked your a- ooh, fruit,“ he went to grab a piece of strawberry, earning a slap on the hand.

you spun around, spatula drawn like a sword at his face

“zegras, if you touch my food, this spatula is going down your throat.” his eyes went wide for a second, index finger pointing to your utensil and slowly lowering it down

“i liked you better yesterday,” he grinned, winking and grabbing an apple from the fridge, tossing one to alex. “touchy, this morning.” he grumbled under his breath as you glared at jack

“come on, man. you’re gonna get my top gun privileges revoked. again,” jack got up to put his plate away, shoving trevor’s shoulder on the way by.

“i like that that’s what you’re worried about, that’s really cool of you, j.” you rolled your eyes once more, finally greeting alex with a ruffle of his hair.

then finally, after the string of hockey boys coming down to steal your breakfast, each adorned with bottomless pits for stomachs- luke made his way back to the kitchen. he was now in a hoodie and swim shorts, his hair wet from his shower.

“could you finish up plating everything, lu? your brothers stole our original plates so i’m running a little behind,” you smiled sarcastically as the two eldest waved to you

luke chuckled, nodding and taking your place in front of the stove.

while you changed, he finished cutting up the fruit, he put whatever spreads you’d taken out on the toast, and he split the eggs.

when he was done, he turned to see his brothers, along with trevor, alex and cole- who came down as you went back up, staring at him.

he turned his shoulders inward, suddenly a little too self aware.

“.. what?” quinn grinned, cole coming to pat him on the back as he made his own meal.

“look who finally got the girl,” trevor teased, alex wiggling his eyebrows after taking a bite of his apple.

he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at jack who nodded in confirmation.

“i got the girl?” he asked softly, arms falling to his sides, slightly limp in his state of shock.

“yeah, you did.” you smiled from the entrance to the kitchen, coming up and massaging his shoulder a little.

“you are no fun,” you pointed at quinn, who raised his hands in defence.

“what? why?” luke asked, looking down at you with his head tilted adorably.

“i was gonna mess with you just a little longer. wanted you to admit it,” you grinned, hand on his abs

he smiled a little, pecking your lips.

you tugged at him, grabbing your plate and nodding to his.

“c’mon, now.” you pulled him towards to patio door.

the boys whistled after the two of you and you giggled, looking back to see jack with a proud, almost bashful smile. his favourite people, this’d mean a lot to him even if he never said it.

to save face, the last thing you heard from him on your way out of the back was ‘wear protection!’

you shook your head with a smile, turning to luke now that you couldn’t be seen.

“my lukey,” you murmured, cupping his face and kissing him softly, still more intense now that there wasn’t an audience.

he nodded into your kiss, returning the favour with a hint of desperation.

“my girl,”

[urbeachboy]

O1 — World’s Best Detective ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⋆˙⟡ — synopsis : you take up a co-worker’s shift, nearly get stabbed, and Red Robin’s losing his flair.

⋆˙⟡ — content : gn reader, violence, mugging, threatening, attempts at sexual assault, alcohol, knives, someone’s wrist is broken and depicted a bit vividly, i attempt (miserably so) to write accents, gotham. . .

Gotham is a hell-hole.

It isn’t like you weren’t aware of it, for you were, and anyone else (especially your family members) was also aware of it. And they’d tried to warn you, they always tried to warn you. Warn you of the supervillains that invoke a sense of incredulity (seriously- what’s a ‘condiment king’?), and superheroes who surpass them in that very field.

But it was cheap, and it was - well.. sufficient. Though there’s cobwebs in the corners of your apartment, it’s.. sufficient. You’ll clean it up- you’ll manage- it’ll suffice. As a matter of fact, the mess and the grime and the several health code violations isn’t quite the biggest issue, which says a ton.

It’s the crime rates. You’ve gotten past getting mugged five times, kidnapped two and assaulted six. It’s almost impressive, considering it has been no more than a fortnight and you almost always stick to a crowd, and refrain from going out past 12. Goodness, it’s like you’re a teenager all over again.

Thankfully, you’ve avoided danger almost completely so far. There’s no reason you would’ve gotten caught in the spider’s web- you’re a fly that sticks to its business. You get up at seven in the morning, eat the fastest breakfast you can, go to your classes (you're in Gotham Uni; the only reason you’re here), work your part-time at the local coffee shop, go home as quick as you can after clocking out, collapse in your bed, repeat. Bathing is fitted in there somewhere, too.

See, yesterday, one of your co-workers, Elise, had asked for you to take over her shift.

She’d approached you yesterday afternoon when you were wiping a bead of sweat away from your forehead (Gotham was especially humid in summer- figures, with it being New Jersey and all). She had sauntered up to you with all the suaveness of a siamese cat, with her dark hair done into a high ponytail.

Elise called out to you when she was barely a few feet away, a smile gracing her lips. “Could you do a favour for me, please?”

You quirked an eyebrow, but just before you could have parted your lips to ask, she was quick to speak over you. “You know, I’m asking you this because you’re like, the nicest person here. Honestly, you’re the only one I can talk to, haha! I know you’ll understand.”

You weren't gonna understand. Not when it's Elise--she's somewhat infamous round the workplace for her... behaviour.

Then, you were tempted to respond with a sharp ‘what do you want, Elise?’ and that’s just what you went to do until, despite yourself, you change it up last-second. “What is it?” you end up saying, and it sounds much more polite than you’d have liked it to sound. Your reputation precedes you, you think.

“Well,” she leaned back against the counter. There weren’t many customers then, most people were at work or school, so you had a little moment of respite. “It’s my sister’s wedding tomorrow,” you don’t recall her ever mentioning a sister before, “and I was thinking maybe you could take my shift for me?” Tough luck. “Just for tomorrow, I promise. I won’t bother you about anything after that.”

It’s a horribly difficult decision to make (note the sarcasm), but with great effort, you open your mouth to deny her request when she cuts you off. Again. “I knew you would, sweetie! Thanks!” And she’s gone.

So you had taken her shift- it’d be a one-time thing. It’d be fine.

Though, unexpectedly, it'd been especially busy today and you seemed to have completely zoned out while making coffee after coffee that, when all the customers are satisfied and have left, you drag your weary eyes up to the window and see darkness. You do a double-take-- still darkness.

You’re late.

It’s 12:30, you see it when you glance at the quaint clock on the pastel-coloured wall. It’s 12:30, and, looking out the window once more, it’s sans any life. You can hear a few strays howling, but that’s about it.

You may have called yourself paranoid in any other situation, but right now? In Gotham? You’re not taking those chances. You weren’t taking those chances, you had been avoiding those chances like the Black Plague but now the chances are shoved into your open palms very so generously.

Yes, there are vigilantes, a plethora of them- but you’re not sure if you trust your well-being in the hands of these mysterious masked individuals who go by strange aliases. Red Hood? Seriously? Maybe he’ll have a dainty little basket, too, on his dainty little self. Maybe he’ll give you a loaf of bread and a pot of butter or whatever it is that Little Red Riding Hood was taking to her grandma if you ask nice enough.

So, your distrust towards vigilantes aside, now you’re in a dilemma- you’re certainly not staying the night at the café, it’ll get you fired for sure. And even if it doesn’t, what would you tell them? That you were far too chicken to walk home because it’s past 12:00? They’re locals, lived here for years. You’re clearly not.

In the end, after a few more minutes of contemplating, you picked up your bag, holding it close to yourself while your eyes flicker up to the clock once more- 12:40. Okay. You can do this, no big deal- you’re an adult.

Walking out the café’s door on wobbly legs, you’re shrouded by the darkness. The moon barely aids you, meagre light shining down on you from the great crescent in the sky. It’s thankfully just enough to see, and while you could take out your phone’s flashlight, you don’t want to risk grabbing any unwanted attention.

The streets are, for the most part, empty—save for the few pigeons or stray dogs that you see in the alleys—which is unusual for these parts of Gotham.

Then, you hear it- a loud ‘clang!’. Like metal.

Instinctively, your head whips around only to find that it’s.. a cat. A calico, barely anything save a kitten, messing around atop some trash can.

You’re not sure what compels you then, but like an idiot, you take a final glance around and, upon reconfirming that the streets are vacant of people, you inch towards the cat.

“Hey, kitty,” you coo, slowly reaching a hand out once you’re in the alley. It’s not that far from the road, you’re barely halfway in the alley, only just outside it for the cat. The calico reacts positively to your approach, letting out a small ‘meow’ and nuzzling its nose into your palm. You could’ve melted then and there. It’s evident, really, from how you continue to blabber sweet nothings underneath your breath, barely on the brink of squealing because the little thing just seems to revel in your affection.

It seems alone. You wonder where its mother is. It’s mewls sound pitched, and it’s definitely supposed to be feeding still. You can’t help but feel pity as you take in the orange splotches of colour on the otherwise black and white cat, and it’s blue eyes. Suddenly, in the midst of your discerning, it jumps off the trash can and hurriedly rushes away. “..What was that all about?” you mumble to yourself.

Footsteps catch your attention. Your eyes shoot up from the ground and dread fills you. You’d forgotten your rule. It should’ve been well past 12:00 now, and you’re in immediate danger.

Sparing a glance to the cat who was now trotting away, you almost wish you could’ve blamed it on the animal, but you’re very well aware whose fault it is that you’re about to get murdered.

“Hey,” a man calls out. He’s imposing, and he’s got grizzly brown hair and mutton chops. He’s wearing a worn T-shirt and some jeans, and his voice? God, his voice. It’s gruff and heavy and unsettling- it makes you feel unsteady, as though your knees are about to give out. You don’t dare respond. Instead, you decide to do the next best thing.

You pick flight over fight, and you flee. Or at least, you attempt to. It was almost embarrassing how fast his hands wrapped around your wrists, and even more so how you tried to wretch your hands away to absolutely no avail. It barely registers in your head, but he’s cussing at you, mumbling, something about calming down. Like hell you’re going to calm down. No, in fact, you may have the survival instincts of a fawn, but hell if you’re calming down. Instead, you scream- as loud as you can, at the top of your lungs, when he cuts it short by placing his palm over your mouth, positioned meticulously so you wouldn’t be able to bite down on him as much as you’d liked to.

You thrash and flail, and he lowers himself down to your ear. “Listen here, babe. Yer’ gunna give me yer’ cash, or ah’m gunna take somethin’ else.” He has an accent, and you’re not sure what kind (though you’re not very eager to find out), but it’s thick as a bush. More than his accent, though, you fixate on his words- you know sure as gravity what he's talking about. What he’s insinuating. You want to gag- you feel the bile travelling up your throat, but you swallow it back down, tears pricking at the ducts of your eyes. With how loud you screamed, you’re sure some vigilante must’ve heard you, but alas, nobody comes hither.

It’s stupid, you’re aware, but you can’t think of anything else. Spite and disgust and hatred and adrenaline, all at once, fill up your being and you shake your head, thrashing about some more. Writhing, squirming, wriggling, anything. You kick your legs back, aiming for his feet, but you stop when he holds his other hand up to your neck. He leaves his hands free, and noting this, you’re about to use them to fight back- but you stop cold in your tracks.

You stop. You stop when you realise he’s holding something in his hand. It glints under the moonlight, and you realise it’s exactly what you feared- a knife. Far from dull. The exact opposite, really. And it’s held up to your rushing pulse, threatening to draw blood.

You’re not sure what to do anymore. You need to pay your rent, you’re barely hanging on by a thread. You’re also not giving up your dignity- you’re also not going to die. The safest option is your money. Slowly, you raise your shaking arms into the air, as if to surrender. “Good,” he drawls. When he removes his hand from your mouth, you can smell it- the sickening stench of alcohol. Of-course he’s drunk. It’s likely why he’s so bold.

Just as you’re about to reach for your wallet, your aggressor jolts.

“What the fu—” His knife is knocked out of his hand, and his hand? Oh, his poor hand. You hear a very discernible ‘crack!’ paired with a scream from him as his hand is twisted into a position that isn’t remotely human. There’s a hand on his wrist, his assaulter- they’re clad in black leather (or some other sort of shiny, smooth material) gloves, and you follow it up to their arm (red sleeves), and their neck, and then their face. You glance down at their chest- and lo and behold; Red Robin.

He’s just like you’ve heard (or like how you’ve seen from the few blurry, low-quality videos that made it onto the news time again), his black hair parting at the centre, forming a sort of arch. Ah- wait, right. You’re not supposed to be dwelling on his appearance- not when your perpetrator is in immense pain. You almost want to cheer for the vigilante, but you hold back.

“Drop the knife,” he says to the man, his voice seeming far too familiar. Though you haven’t heard Red Robin before. His voice is near boyish, and though he’s younger than you assumed, he seems far from a teenager.

Backing up slowly, you’re unsure what exactly to do. So instead, you lean against a wall of the alley, trying to compose yourself, trying to get your breathing to slow down because you’re not sure when all the oxygen entering your lungs started to become too much, too fast. You trail a hand up to your chest, and you close your eyes and focus and, sure enough, your heart is beating at the speed of a Jackrabbit’s. It was understandable, to you, at least. Because, oh my god, he just broke that guy’s wrist. Holy shit.

You try to focus on anything else but your nerves, eyes landing on Red Robin and your assailant (you’re not certain how many words you’ve used for him by now). The latter is scrambling to apologise, the knife on the floor and one of his hands holding the other (which was limp by now. Your wrist feels like it’s faintly aching too, merely at the sight). He’s shaken, and you’re sure you would’ve been, too, if your wrist was snapped in half like nothing.

You can’t register what any of them are saying. It’s not that you’re far away, no, you’re close enough. But all the words are slurring together in your mind and you can’t bring yourself to focus. You see Red Robin nod his head towards the streets after a while, and your assailant hurriedly rushes off, leaving his knife there on the ground. The vigilante in red picks it up promptly, observing it for any stains and stashing it away in his utility belt. Then, his gaze is drawn to you from beneath the mask.

You always thought the masks were odd. Especially when you could see half their faces- save for Batman, of course. He says something, and you can hear his lips move, but it’s all Greek to you when it comes out. Then, his brows knit together the slightest bit in concern, and he takes a step forward. You can hear it now. “You okay?”

You nod. It’s almost embarrassing, the amount you’re shaking. But he doesn’t seem to judge you. Thank god for that, even if you’re not sure why you assumed he would. You almost had your neck sliced in half as if it were a watermelon in a game of Fruit Ninja.

Then you stare at Red Robin. You really stare at him. You squint your eyes, falling over his frame. His voice was familiar, you recalled telling yourself that not a few minutes ago. But why? Was it just one of those voices? It wasn’t. You realised it when you looked at his hair again. Black, silky locks that fell in waves, an arch formed at the centre. Holy shit. Holy shit. No, no it’s not. It’s not.

No, it so is. So you tell him, you tell him like it is. Or like you think it is, at least.

“You’re Tim drake.” It comes out breathy, like a gasp. Like you don’t believe yourself.

Then you stare at him some more. Because he’s doing the exact same thing, staring at you like you’d said something obscene, like you were from another planet or all your teeth had fallen out. His nose scrunched up only for a second, before a small snicker escaped him. Like he’d forgotten himself. His facade.

“I’m Red Robin.” It was confident, clear, crisp- every syllable. He knew who he was, he was self-assured. You almost doubted yourself, just for a second. But with you, instinct was always stronger than wit.

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s late. Do you need me to walk you home? Looked a bit dazed earlier,” he cut you off with the beginnings of a smile on his lips, acting like he didn’t even hear you. Which, yes, you started quite softly, but you’re sure he was close enough to hear.

You narrow your eyes. Ultimately, you decided it’d be best not to budge. There’s shivers that wrack your spine as images of that man’s twisted wrist invade your head. That could be your neck. No.

The bats and the birds don’t kill. The bats and the birds are, however, not above beating you to a pulp so much so that you wished that they kill. And then maybe they’ll leave you at some dingy hospital.

Slowly, you nod your head, moving up and off the wall you were slumped against previously. He smiled. It seemed so genuine, but you’re certain it’s not.

“Lead the way, then.”

⋆˙⟡ — a/n : i’m sososo sorry it took this longggg :( been a bit busy and also writer’s block hit HARD <//3 but i’ve prevailed !! 2nd chapter soon !!

. fin ˗ˏˋ ᯓᡣ𐭩

[lessi-lover]

before we broke (2) II p.bueckers x reader

set in 2019, bit of a prequel and some high school flashbacks!

before we broke II p.bueckers x reader 2.7k

“you’re too slow!” paige called over her shoulder, her blonde hair catching the wind as she sprinted ahead of you. you whined in exasperation as she kept running, desperately trying to catch up with her as she ran faster towards her house.

“i am not!” you shot back, pushing yourself harder because you were determined not to let her win another one of your silly competitions today. you were always trying to keep up with her. she was faster and stronger, always a little bit ahead, but she never left you behind. not really.

finally with your last burst of energy, you lunged forward attempting to tackle her to the ground. both of you tumbled into the grass, giggling as you caught your breath. she turned onto her back, your body somehow ending on top of her.

“you cheated.” she accused of you, but there was no real bite to it. she couldn't pretend to be annoyed by you if she tried. “did not!” you huffed, staring down at the blonde in an adorable attempt to gain your innocence back. your hands migrated to your hips as you tried to stand your ground.

paige sprawled out on the grass, squinted up at you with an exaggerated look that told you she wasn't falling for your miss innocence act, her nose scrunching up in that way it always did when she was pretending to be serious.

"you're just mad cause i won p." you teased her, leaning over to press the weight of your hands into her shoulders. "nah," she said, turning her head to look at you. "i just like messing with you tiny." she teased, tapping your thigh with a grin, clearly enjoying her large height growth she'd had over the summer which unfortunately you had not been graced with.

flipping her hips easily she forced your body to the ground as the two of you rolled around on the grass. "get off me!" you demanded as she now sat on top of you, your hands naturally pinned under her knees.

paige only grinned wider, clearly enjoying watching you struggle. “i actually think i like it up here.” you groaned dramatically, thrashing your hips around under her hold, but she barely even budged. “this is so unfair. you're crushing me under your weight.”

paige gasped placing a hand over her chest. "what was that?" paige questioned and you recognised the look she was giving you. you smirked despite the position, still struggling under her. “if the shoe fits.” paige let out a scoff in mock offense, shifting her weight just slightly to press down on you even more. “oh, now you’ve done it.”

your eyes widened in horror. “paige, no-” before you could even think about rolling out from underneath her, her hands shot to your sides again, fingers expertly digging in as she threatened the spots she knew made you squirm the most. you shrieked, kicking and wriggling under her as she dug into your skin, paige pulling loud laughter out of both of you.

"paige madison! get off her right this instant!" the voice cut through your laughter and you both freeze. paige immediately lifted her weight off you, though her grin remained obnoxious and true, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief that paige's dad had come to your timely rescue.

“i wasn’t doing anything dad!” paige protested, holding up her hands innocently, but you both knew better. you could still feel the faint sensation where her fingers had been moments ago. "you know better than to pick on her! she's half your size on a good day!" bob continued, ushering the two of you inside. apparently he’d been calling you in for dinner for the last twenty minutes, though neither of you had taken the time to hear him.

if there was anyone who could keep up with paige in a not so literal sense, it was you. it wasn't because you were the same though, the two of you worked together because you couldn't be more different.

paige’s world revolved around basketball. when she wasn’t out on the court, she was lost dreaming about the game. you could almost see it in her eyes, the way she could see herself dribbling down the court, passing defenders, and making that perfect shot just as the buzzer goes off. she loved the adrenaline when she made a great play and the satisfaction of pushing herself to be better.

if she wasn’t practicing, or running drills, she was either watching a game or talking about basketball, thinking about basketball, or just looking at basketball. it was like she could never get enough of it, could never tear her eyes away from it and unfortunately this meant you were dragged into it more than you'd like.

although you were nothing like paige. while she was always on the move, you were the kind of person who wanted to just sit back and observe, because you wanted time to appreciate the small details in life. you were always content to step back and just let the moment simply exist.

you were far too busy to find entertainment in a sport when you could instead find it in the pages of your next book. you had always loved what books offered you, the escape books gave you; the way they could take you to another world where nothing else mattered for a while. reading was much more appealing than spending hours running across a court when rather you could be swept away and be completely oblivious from the real world.

paige on the other hand could barely stay seated for a minute, let alone force herself to read. there wasn't a moment she was still or thoughtless, much to your frustration of her constant need to be active. you might have always been watching the world, but paige wanted to live it, to always be moving, she wanted to experience everything. if she wasn't thinking about a game, she was thinking about the next one because her mind was constantly racing with new ideas to burn her energy off.

she was loudmouthed, brazen and completely unapologetic about it. she didn’t hesitate to make her voice heard, regardless of who was around. she was fast and unfiltered like a river that couldn’t stop flowing. if she had something to say, she said it with a sharp tongue and without a second thought about how it would land.

you were kind, forgiving and always looking for the good in people even if it was just simply not there. you found reasons to believe in them, to give them a chance. where you saw the good, paige saw the game. if someone showed her even the slightest bit of disrespect, she would be the first to call them out because she's unafraid to confront anyone who crossed her. but you? you always believed that people aren't defined by their worst mistakes, something you were always keen to remind the blonde of.

it was a quality that sometimes made you seem naive in a way. after all, the world wasn’t always kind and it could be easy to get hurt if you weren’t being careful. but you didn’t mind. paige would sometimes roll her eyes at you. but deep down, she respected it. she respected the way you didn’t give up on people, no matter how many times they would let you down.

paige thrived off attention, loved the way she could make people laugh with just a few words, or get them to follow her lead without a second thought. paige was loud, and not in the subtle kind of way that people just add in when describing a person. no, she made sure everyone knew she was there.

she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and if you didn’t hear her the first time, she'd make sure you did the second. it wasn't just the way she talked; it was the way she carried herself. paige was untouchable, like she knew something everyone else didn't.

although if anyone tried to pick on you, paige was there in an instant, stepping in without any hesitation. she’d give them one look and suddenly they’d be backing the hell off, realising they’d just made a very bad choice of whom to mess with. it wasn’t like she had to prove anything, she never had to lift a finger when it came to defending you.

paige was the spark to your match, the fire to your ice and in the end, that was what made you both work so well.

when it came to you paige knew she had you hooked, she never felt the need to fight for attention from her best friend because you always gave it to her willingly. she’d always keep things level and even though she was full of herself in the best way possible, you were always there to ground her.

"no paige please i don't want to!" you whined, your feet scraping against the gravel as she pulled you by the hem of your shirt across the backyard. “come on, you know you want to!” paige smiled, tossing the basketball up and down in her hands as she stationed you next to the hoop.

she was leaning against the metal pole, clearly waiting for you to move. this was just another thing she could do to prepare for her game tomorrow, something to keep her head down. for you though, it was a different story.

“p, i really don’t feel like it today.” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to look serious even though you knew you weren’t convincing anyone. “don’t be lame!” she shot back, throwing the ball which gracefully hit your knees and bounced away.

"oh no! i guess we can't play, i'll see you tomorrow though bye paige!" you went to turn around before the blonde caught your wrist. “don’t pull that with me.” she said, reaching out to pull your arm and drag you back toward the court. “you know you’re not getting away with it.”

you sighed again but she wasn’t having any of it. before you knew it, the ball was being placed into your hands. “come on, just a quick game. if you win, i’ll leave you alone for a whole hour. but if i win..” she trailed off, giving you that knowing look. you knew exactly what that meant. if you won, she’d let you go, but if she won, you’d have to put up with her little training sessions for the rest of the day.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you reluctantly bounced the ball once. “it’s not impossible if you actually try,” paige retorted, eyebrows raised at your questionable dribbling abilities. “you know, maybe you are as bad at basketball as you claim.”

“paige!” you snapped, but she was already running past you, the ball now in her hands and a look of smugness on her face. she was fast, too fast. you barely had time to react before she was shooting a perfect three into the basket.

“oh, i’m sorry, was i supposed to let you just shoot?” she teased, pretending to throw it back to you. “this is so unfair,” you said, trying to get the ball back, but she was already moving again, making another sharp move that had you scrambling to defend. “seriously, paige! can you slow down a little?”

“nah,” she laughed, answering to your complaints without sparing you a glance. “you’re keeping up just fine.” she gave you a wink and a quick spin around your body, flicking the ball into the hoop once more. “three-nothing,” she said, barely even out of breath in comparison to your frustratingly red complexion.

“tired? please, you can’t be tired yet!” she teased, her grin never faltering as she put up another shot. “not until i’ve completely wiped you out.” she dropped the ball into your hands with a shove to your back. “now, let's see if you can keep up."

you groaned, but deep down, you knew you were going to have fun. it didn’t matter how many times you tried to pull away or how much you insisted you weren’t in the mood, paige was always going to win. she had a way of making everything seem fun, no matter how much you tried to act uninterested. maybe it was fun because it was paige.

“you’re relentless, you know that right?” you muttered, your smile now matching hers as you bounced the ball a couple of times. “and that’s why you love me,” she smiled back, pulling you into a headlock and kissing your cheek. “now stop wasting time and get moving!”

as much as paige’s mind was always thinking about basketball, it was always just a little more consumed by you. it wasn’t the kind of thing she would ever admitted out loud, but everyone could see it. paige was intense and if there was one thing that could compete with her obsession for the game, it was you.

her whole demeanor would change when you were around; she’d become a little less brash, a little softer spoken, but still with that spark in her eye, the same spark she had when she was on the court. the difference was, this time, it wasn’t basketball she was thinking about. it was you.

she never let on just how much you meant to her, unless you asked of course. to paige, showing vulnerability was a weakness, and that wasn’t something she allowed herself to be bar her best friend. she liked to be the strong one, the girl who could take on anything and anyone. but when it came to you, she didn’t need to play those games. you made her forget about all that.

you were the constant in her chaotic life, the one thing she knew she could always count on, no matter what. you weren’t like anyone else. there was no mistaking the way her eyes followed you around, always scanning for you in a room full of people.

she couldn’t help herself and she was always drawn to you. she did try to resist, she pretended not to care, but the truth was, she couldn't stop herself from being completely infatuated by you. it wasn’t something she could turn off, no matter how hard she tried.

paige knew exactly what you were to her. you were the calm wrapped tightly around her freed storm, the subtle stillness she silently craved that nothing could ever come close too. basketball was her passion, sure, but you were her obsession in the best possible way. you were different, and she loved that about you. she loved the way you made her think, made her want to be better, made her feel like there was more to life than just winning a game.

and as much as you two could drive each other mad, there was always an understanding between you and paige. people could see it, the way you both complemented each other without even trying.

those close to you had always known you were a package deal, always together, always at each other’s side. your parents loved seeing how effortlessly you had grown up side by side over the years, how you balanced each other out so naturally. she helped you when life felt too heavy, when everything threatened to pull you under and you were her voice of reason when she needed it.

so when the visits stopped and the mentions of each other grew scarce, everyone noticed. no one could quite grasp what had happened between the two of you, especially when it seemed so sudden.

eventually you had erased every memory of each other, brushing your friends and family off with a vague excuse that you had just drifted apart before college. it was easier than explaining that it wasn’t distance or time pulling you apart, it was something far more complicated, something neither of you could find the words for.

and no matter how hard you both tried to move on, to pretend everything was fine, that bitter feeling lingered like a knife beneath the surface, a secret only the two of you shared. blood drawn, yet cuts unequal. the secret still held you both pitifully in its grip, even as you tried to erase the pain it had caused you both.

~

[pinkslipxox]

Hey there my love! I have a request. Sorry if it isn't that good.

We’re a bartender at the local bar where Billie lives, and it's been a rough day for us. We’re not in the best mood—until we spot a stunning woman sitting at the bar: Billie.

Curious, we make our way over to chat with her and soon learn that she’s only there because a few of her friends dragged her out for the night—even though she doesn’t drink. Despite that, we immediately hit it off, sharing laughs and good conversation. By the end of the night, we’ve even got her number!

hey my love! Omg i love it! Hope you like it 🥰

——————————————————————————

The bar is finally calm after what feels like an endless wave of orders, drinks flying in every direction, and customers getting restless. You take a deep breath, leaning against the counter as you wipe sweat from your brow. It was one of those nights—where every cocktail seemed to come with a side of chaos. You grimace at the memory of spilling an entire margarita on a customer and fumbling a couple of orders. Your mood definitely reflects the calamity of the shift, and you let out a soft sigh, wishing for a moment of peace.

As you glance around the dimly lit bar, your eyes land on a small group laughing and joking at a table near the back. That’s when you spy her— a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and captivating crystal blue eyes. You feel a little flutter in your chest, even though part of you thinks it might just be from exhaustion.

When the woman catches your eye, she smiles, and suddenly, all the frustration from the night fades a bit. You can’t help but smile back, even though you try to shake off the nerve that’s creeping its way up your spine.

“Hi! What can I get for you?” you ask, the professional mask slipping back into place, even though your heart races a little.

“Honestly? Just a water, please. Im trying to stay hydrated,” she chuckles lightly, and her laughter feels warm and inviting.

“Coming right up,” you say, filling a glass with ice water. As you set it in front of her, you can’t shake the feeling of her gaze lingering on you, as if she notices the way your shoulders have slumped and how your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “How’s your night going?”

“It could be better,” she replies with a slight grin. “But my friends insist on dragging me out. They just don’t get how much I love just chilling at home. What about you? You’ve got that ‘I’ve been through the wringer’ look,” she teases playfully.

You laugh, a genuine sound this time. “Yeah, it’s been one of those shifts. Busy as hell, and I’ve messed up a couple of orders,” you admit, shrugging as you pour yourself a drink of your own.

“Hey, it happens to the best of us. Don't be too hard on yourself,” Billie reassures you, leaning in slightly as if she’s sharing a secret. “You’re still standing, right?”

For some reason, the way she speaks makes you feel a little lighter. “True! I guess that counts for something,” you say, smirking a little more.

“Totally,” the woman chuckles in agreement. “I’m Billie. What’s your name?” She outstretches her hand and you shake it.

“My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you, Billie,” you reply enthusiastically.

And just like that, Billie begins to draw you into a conversation that feels easy and effortless. You talk about everything—music, your favorite drinks, even a little about her life in the spotlight. There’s something about her presence that makes you feel seen and understood, like you’re two friends catching up rather than a bartender and a customer having a brief encounter. And you find yourself genuinely happy to be in her presence.

“So, what are you doing after this?” Billie asks, tilting her head, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“Probably crawling into bed and hoping tomorrow is better than today,” you reply with a chuckle. “Not exactly a glamorous life.”

Billie smiles. “You know… I had a great time talking to you.” She then takes out a pen and writes on the napkin. With a glimmer of hope in her eyes, she slides it over to you, and you see that she’s written her number on it. “You should call me sometime, I would love to see you again. Maybe even go out to dinner?”

Your eyes widen, disbelief mingling with delight. “You want me to text you? Like, really?” you stammer, still trying to comprehend the gesture.

“Absolutely,” Billie responds, her tone reassuring. “I mean it. Text me anytime you need to vent about spills or chaotic shifts or even if you just want to grab coffee or something.”

You feel an exhilarating mix of emotions—nervousness, excitement, and maybe a hint of disbelief. “I... I will for sure.”

Billie grins, the softness of her expression warming your heart. “Good. I’m looking forward to it,” she says before standing and leaning over to give you a quick hug, her arms wrapping around you like a snug safety net. You practically melt against her, her scent—a mix of something floral and the faintest hint of vanilla—overwhelmingly calming.

As she pulls back, you both share a lingering gaze, and in that moment, nothing else matters. The night, the spills, the chaos—all of it fades away, leaving just the two of you in this fleeting, beautiful connection.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Billie says, a softness in her voice that makes your insides flutter.

“Yeah, will do. And you too,” you reply, watching as she walks away, a lightness in her step that makes you grin.

With her number securely in your pocket and the memory of her warmth lingering, you can’t help but feel that maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all.

[hynzsn]

★ KISS MY WOUNDS ★

☆ choi san x male reader

꩜ .ᐟ fluff

contents: playful!san, boxing, boxing match, locker room, kissing, kissing hands / arms, thigh grabbing, sitting on lap, pet names (baby), teasing

wc: 1.3k

summary: san asks his boyfriend to kiss his swollen knuckles after winning yet another boxing match.

a/n — this is literally like my first time writing a fic yall omfg!!! feedback is heavily appreciated, i’d really love opinions and thoughts on this. please spare me if this is complete trash >.< i’m still getting used to this and learning as i go along <33!!

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“8…9…10.”

and with the ring of the bell, the match that felt like it could’ve lasted a lifetime was finally declared over.

san was notorious for his opponents never passing anything but the second round, but today was different.

“and there we have it, ladies and gentlemen. referee kim hongjoong has called a stop to this contest at 3 minutes and 30 seconds into the third round, declaring the winner by knockout. choi san!”

despite his body physically feeling drained, san raised his arms to revel in that joyous feeling of being the winner, to have defeated the obstacle in his path to complete stardom—his opponent. in the crowd was y/n, wearing what seemed to be both a look of concern and frustration.

when san’s gaze fixed upon y/n, he recognized that look—the look he’d seen more times than he could count. for a second, san’s mind jumped to the countless times he’s had to reassure y/n, and it looked like today was going to be the same.

san wanted nothing more than to run over to y/n, exhausted body and all, but he knew right now wasn’t the time.

so, following protocol, san dropped his arms to his side and sauntered over to the ringside, where the medical staff could tend to his injuries and check for any signs of more serious damage. luckily, his opponent hadn’t caused any major damage; all he had were swollen knuckles and a slightly bruised left rib from where his opponent had gotten the better of him.

but that doesn’t take away from the fact that his opponent had more energy than the sun itself, an absolutely little firecracker that wouldn't go down. the crowd’s energy was still at its peak, but it was expected given the performance that san had just put on.

his eyes never left y/n’s, not even for a split second, even with the medical staff gently placing an ice pack on his slightly bruised ribs or with his coach practically drowning him in praise and awe. no, his eyes were on his beloved, the only person he cared about in this venue right now.

“locker room, meet me there in 10,” san mouthed, his eyes filled with nothing but love as he waited for y/n to respond.

y/n had responded with a simple nod, a smirk playing on the corner of san’s as he anticipated the moment of finally being with y/n. he’s been craving his boyfriend ever since y/n gave him his ritual good luck kiss earlier.

oh, y/n’s kisses felt like heaven for san; they felt like home. he could still taste the lingering scent of pineapple mint that radiated from y/n’s lip balm, a taste he had grown very fond of.

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

once the medical staff had finished tending to his needs and had given him a thumbs up, san practically bolted to his locker room, and with the thought of y/n in his mind, it gave him an adrenaline rush like no other. there was also the fact that during the checkup, it gave him more than enough time to sit back and take a much-needed rest, giving him the respawn he needed for his time alone with y/n.

with the swing of his locker room door, san was only faced with nothing but an empty locker room. it was okay, though. given the number of people in the venue, he could only imagine the struggle to escape, from the wild fans to the mess on the floor from disposable cups and spilled food. he had expected for y/n to arrive a bit late.

he took the time to sit down on the locker room’s bench, purposefully choosing to position himself where his eyes could lock on the door, just waiting for y/n to arrive.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the door to his locker room had finally swung open, and there was y/n walking in with that same concerned look. god, he looks so beautiful, san thought to himself.

“are you hurt?” y/n asked, rushing over to where san was seated, the shakiness in his voice showcasing just how concerned he was.

before san could even get an answer in, y/n had cut him off.

“what did the medical staff say? i want to know everything.” his eyes were boring into san, but all san could see was the amount of love y/n harbored for him, and the feeling was more than mutual.

“calm down, baby,” he said, his voice nothing but a soft and reassuring tone.

“i’m fine. just swollen knuckles, and my rib is bruised slightly, but nothing a little ice pack couldn’t take care of. there’s seriously nothing major.” san wrapped his arm around y/n’s waist, bringing him in even closer and sitting him down on his knee.

“really? are they sure? that fight looked... rough. y/n comfortably sat on san’s knee, his eyes still boring into san as he tried to search for any signs of discomfort or dishonesty plastered on his face, but was met with nothing.

“yes, baby, the medical staff team knows what they're doing. i wouldn't be sitting here with you right now if I wasn't okay.”

“but... my knuckles do hurt a bit. there is something I need—something that i desperately need, baby. and you're the only person who can give it to me.”

“what is it?” y/n had practically jumped out of san’s thigh, ready to get him whatever it is that he desperately needs.

a smirk played on the corner of san’s lips; this was exactly the moment he'd been waiting for.

“kisses.”

“kisses…?” y/n repeated, a small frown appearing on his face as if san had just asked for the impossible.

“yeah, kisses. kisses from my beautiful boyfriend. am I asking for too much?” san asked, his voice taking on a teasing tone.

a blush slightly creeped up on y/n’s face. “no, I just thought that you were going to ask for something, you know… serious.”

“but this is serious, baby!” san protested, his voice now a soft whine. his duality, from one minute being teasing and cocky to whiny and pouty, was seriously impressive, almost scarily impressive.

“look.” san held up his hands for y/n to see, showing his red-swollen knuckles. “don’t i deserve some tlc?" i just fought my ass off out there.”

y/n couldn't resist that soft, whiny voice—not now, not ever. it was as if a siren’s song had pulled him in.

the blush on y/n’s face deepened.

“okay, okay.”

y/n softly took san’s hands into his, bringing his hands up closer to his lips and tenderly planting kisses on the swollen knuckles. all the while, he kept eye contact with san.

san let out a soft sigh at the feeling of y/n’s lips on his skin. it felt like he was floating in the clouds with every kiss. y/n’s kisses were so soft and so loving. so… so… san couldn't even think; all he could do was just revel in the way y/n kissed his swollen knuckles.

“this is the best kind of pain relief anybody could ever ask for. kisses from my baby, ” he purred, closing his eyes and leaning back on the bench, the back of his head back against the lockers, as y/n kissed up his hands, going from the back of his hands to his wrists, even working his way slowly up his bare arm. the feint taste of sweat and musk lingering on y/n’s lips.

“you’re so cheesy,” y/n said, a slight chuckle escaping from his lips as he gave san’s arm one last kiss, directly on his bicep.

san opened his eyes and watched as y/n now made his way up from his bicep to just inches away from his lips. his mouth suddenly got dry, his tongue darting out to wetten his lips.

“yeah, I am. but you know you love me for it, baby,” he said confidently, closing his eyes again and pressing his lips against y/n’s in an affectionate and soft kiss. 

y/n eagerly returned the kiss, moving his lips to match san’s rhythm, letting his body loosen up as he felt san’s calloused hands gripping onto his thighs and pulling him down onto his lap.

 “yeah, I do.”

[aventurineswife]

Gepard, Diluc, Kaeya and Sampo meeting their future child(ren)

The future child(ren) time travelled to the past to see what the characters and reader look like in the past or the future child(ren) messing with some device and it sends them tumbling to the past where reader and the characters were still not together

The Past Meets Future

Tags: Gepard Landau, Sampo Koski, Diluc Ragnvider, Kaeya Alberich, Time Travel, Future Children, Parent-Child Relationships, Alternate Realities, Family, Humor, Heartwarming, Surreal Situations.

Warnings: Mild Language, Minor Time-Travel Paradoxes (Not extensively explored), Light-hearted Mischief.

[Continuation]

It was a quiet morning in Belobog when Gepard felt the strange hum of energy near his quarters. He was in the midst of preparing for his duties as Captain of the Silvermane Guards, but something told him that today would be anything but ordinary.

The air shimmered briefly, and before him stood a young child—no older than twelve—dressed in unfamiliar clothing. The child had a strange aura about them, their presence both comforting and bewildering. The child’s hair resembled his own, and the eyes, though softer, were unmistakably his. They even stood with a quiet dignity, much like him, though they wore a curious look on their face as they took in the surroundings.

"Captain Landau," the child spoke, their voice clear yet tinged with a familiarity that sent a shiver down his spine. "It’s so nice to finally meet you."

Gepard’s brow furrowed. "And who might you be, child?" he asked, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. Despite his confusion, his protective instincts kicked in.

"I’m... your child," the young one replied, somewhat sheepishly. "From the future. I... uh, sort of messed with a device and ended up here."

Gepard's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze around him. His child? From the future? A million questions flooded his mind, but the most pressing was, "How did you get here?"

The child smiled sheepishly, holding up a small, glowing device. "I wasn’t trying to time travel, honest! But the device malfunctioned, and... here I am. I just wanted to see what you were like back then."

Despite the whirlwind of emotions crashing through him—astonishment, worry, and something else he couldn't quite place—Gepard knelt down to the child's level. "Then... you’re safe. That’s all that matters. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The child smiled warmly, and Gepard’s heart clenched. He didn't know what the future held, but with this child in front of him, the weight of his duty to protect the people of Belobog felt more personal than ever.

[Header credits]

Diluc stood at the balcony of his manor, gazing at the sky. It had been a peaceful evening, and yet, something about the air felt charged with an unfamiliar energy. His thoughts were momentarily interrupted by a soft voice calling from the doorway.

"Daddy?"

Diluc turned sharply, his heart racing. Standing before him was a young child, their hair practically glowing in the fading light, a small figure dressed in an outfit that looked both futuristic and out of place. Their eyes, a perfect blend of his own, looked up at him with confusion and a little bit of awe.

"Who are you?" Diluc asked, his voice soft but firm, wary of the sudden intrusion.

The child hesitated for a moment before grinning, their expression full of mischievous confidence. "I’m your kid! Well, I’m from the future, but I wanted to see you back when you were younger. So... I accidentally used a time-traveling device and, uh, here I am."

Diluc’s heart skipped a beat. His child? From the future? He stared at the child, momentarily lost for words. His gaze softened as he looked at the redhead who had inherited his fiery hair and, undoubtedly, a fierce spirit.

"You’re... my child?" Diluc muttered, his hand resting on the balcony railing, as if steadying himself. "How is this possible?"

The child’s grin widened. "I’m not sure how I got here, but I guess this is your present! Cool, huh?"

Diluc chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Despite the strange situation, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in his chest. "You’re quite the troublemaker, aren’t you?" he said, his voice filled with affection.

The child laughed, and Diluc’s stoic demeanor melted for a moment, replaced by something akin to hope. Maybe the future wasn’t as uncertain as he thought, if this was what awaited him—someone to carry on his legacy, someone to share his heart.

[Header credits]

Kaeya was lounging in his office, his feet propped up on his desk as he sipped his drink, savoring the silence. That was until the air around him began to shimmer and warp, and suddenly, a small figure appeared at the doorway.

Kaeya’s gaze locked onto the child standing there, their his, and their eyes—bright and familiar—locked with his. The child was grinning mischievously, their posture radiating the same confidence that Kaeya himself carried.

"Well, well, who do we have here?" Kaeya raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "You seem familiar, little one."

"I’m your kid from the future," the child replied cheerfully, practically bouncing with excitement. "I wanted to meet you, and—well—I may have messed up a little with a time-traveling device. Whoops!"

Kaeya leaned forward, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. "From the future, huh? Interesting. So, what brings you to the past?"

The child put their hands on their hips, looking proud. "I just wanted to see you back when you were younger. And maybe cause a little trouble along the way."

Kaeya chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "Of course, I’m raising a troublemaker. Seems like you’ve inherited more than just my looks, haven’t you?"

The child nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely! Got all your charm, too."

Kaeya’s heart warmed at the sight of the child—his child—standing before him. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but seeing this little version of himself made him believe that maybe, just maybe, it could be a future worth fighting for.

Sampo was busy in his workshop, his hands deftly working on a new "project" when he felt a sudden shift in the air. He looked up to find a small figure standing before him, their appearance completely out of place. Their eyes and mischievous grin were all too familiar.

"Well, well," Sampo said, raising an eyebrow. "Who’s this little troublemaker?"

The child, no older than twelve, grinned. "I’m your kid from the future! I wanted to meet you, and I might’ve messed up with a time-traveling device... but I’m here now!"

Sampo laughed, his usual charm never faltering. "Oh, is that so? A little time traveler, huh? You’ve got guts to show up like this."

"Yeah! I figured if anyone could handle a little mischief, it’d be you," the child replied, eyes sparkling. "So, what’s it like in the present or the past? I bet it’s all sorts of exciting!"

Sampo’s heart skipped a beat. His child. From the future. The idea was surreal, but there was something undeniably precious about this small version of himself standing before him.

"Well, the present is never boring," he said, grinning. "But I’m sure you’ve got a lot to learn before you can keep up with me."

The child grinned back, full of mischief and curiosity, and Sampo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Despite all his faults, maybe this little one was proof that, somewhere down the line, he’d found something truly worth protecting.