#the mask was handmade by him

[anenomie]

The loudest longest shoutout to the 5th grader at the school I work at dressing up with a handmade speakerhead costume tonight and me (idiotically) asking him if he was optimus prime. I am so sorry, king

[baroqueghoul]

“ They didn't... recognize me at first but then, they thought I was you. ”

Made a plushie of Michael to match alongside the plushies of William and Henry that I’ve made recently !! ( and of course I gave him a mullet ) 🦊

[manicrouge]

‘It’s cannae be that difficult,’ Soap scoffed, watching as the masked man fiddled with the pieces of string in his hand.

‘She mentioned in er letter that she’s been buying handmade bracelets from this market back in Manchester,’ Simon said, ‘thought I’d give it a shot myself.’

‘Aye, Lt. but your hands ave only ever brutalised thing… ye no bracelet maker. More of a necklace maker — ye know, like a noose—’

‘Shut it,’ he snarled, looking down at the loosely woven bracelet in his hand, ‘she wanted me to make somethin’ for er, so I am.’

‘Could’ve just asked me to draw er somethin’,’ Soap chuckled, pushing himself up off of the doorframe. ‘Or are ye scared am gonna steal ye missus?’

‘Go away,’ huffed the other, focusing back on his bracelet, ‘I swear to fuck all you ever do is give me a fuckin’ headache, go an’ bother Price.’

Soap disappeared down the hall, leaving Simon to figure out the complicated and strenuous task of making a bracelet, ‘Fucks sake,’ he sighed, finally tying the ends together, holding it in the palm of his hand in front of him.

Part of him was convinced it would have been an insult to send that to you; there was hardly any talent to be found in his creation (at least, that’s what he thought) as the plaited yarn was hardly neat. Only, he bit the bullet and added it into the envelope with the letter he had messily scribbled.

And, for the first time ever, he felt anxious… over a stupid fucking bracelet.

—

It took a while for him to hear back, counting on the fact that after making the bracelet he’d been called by Price on another mission. In fact, he’d forgotten about the entire conundrum until he sat on his bed in his room with your envelope in his hand. When he opened it, a black and white beaded bracelet fell onto his lap, as did a loose polaroid you had taken.

A smile met his face when he saw you wearing the pesky bracelet with the brightest smile on your face. Setting the photo down, he opened your letter.

I love the bracelet so much Si! I thought I’d make you one myself too so we could have matching ones. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to though, I just thought it would be a nice gift for you.

Taking the bracelet in his hand, he closed his fist around it as he continued to read through your letter.

—

‘Nice piece of jewellery you got there, Lt.,’ Soap sniggered, bringing his mug of tea to his lips before adding, ‘how much did it set ye back, ey?’

‘Shut up, Johnny.’

—

[hellfirenacht]

Candygram

Summary: It's Valentine's day and you shoot your shot with Eddie by sending him a Candygram.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, fluff, sfw

4.8k Words Master List

“Just do it.”  Robin said, following your line of sight to the booth in the corner of the Hawkins cafeteria. It was a simple table with a red cloth thrown over it and a handmade banner that read ‘CANDYGRAMS $1’ and was decorated with tacky hearts. 

Every time you glanced over at the booth, your heart would start pounding and your stomach would twist in knots. You had never considered yourself to be shy before, when you first moved to Hawkins a few years ago, Robin had joked that you didn’t need a welcome wagon because you had thrown yourself into band and had introduced yourself to everyone with ease. 

You had masked your anxiety over being the new kid with an overinflated sense of confidence and it had worked out really well for you until you caught feelings for the freak who sat next to you in remedial science. 

“I think... I would rather chug formaldehyde.” you said slowly, staring so hard at the offensively pink and red booth that Robin was sure it was going to catch flames. 

“Either go up there and buy a candygram or I’m going to do it for you.” Robin said. “If I have to hear you waffle about this for one more day I’m gonna rip my hair out.” 

“But if I send him one, then he might actually acknowledge me and realize I might have something resembling a feeling for him, and that’s just not really cool, you know? Goes against my chill and mysterious personality.” you said, leaning back on your chair with a cocky grin. 

“Last night I saw you and Steve cry over Bambi.” Robin deadpans. 

“Okay, so we were drunk and also shut up.” you snorted, rubbing your face. 

“How are you going to know if there’s anything there if you don’t even take the chance?” Robin scolds. “Come one, I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’m surprised the whole school doesn’t know-”

“Again, cool and mysterious personality.” you tried again. 

“Plus I know he’s just as weird as you.” Robin continued, ignoring you. “I mean, last week I saw him get Jason Carver to back off one of the freshmen by pretending to exercise a demon out of him!”

You stared at Robin for a beat before thunking your head on the lunch table. “I’m going to marry him. Holy shit, he actually tried to expel the demon lurking in Carver?” You were laughing at the thought. 

During your first senior year and his second, Eddie Munson had caught your eye when you had the same lunch period. He was loud and energetic and so fucking weird you couldn’t help but to be drawn to him. Had your parents not forced you to stick with band, you would have considered joining Hellfire. Unfortunately even with this last go-round as a super senior, they still made you stick with it despite your senioritis reaching terminal levels.

You never had a good opportunity to talk to him, and the more time passed the harder it became to justify just randomly approaching him. This semester you finally had your opportunity when you’d been put in the same class and sitting next to each other no less. Still, the most you’d been able to say was “yeah, sure” when he’d asked you for a pencil once. 

Four weeks sitting next to Eddie, and you had barely spoken to him while noticing every little thing about him. He read a lot in class when he could get away with it, and doodled in his notebooks constantly, especially dice and dragons seemed to be the biggest theme. His school notebook wasn’t nearly as filled in as his Hellfire notebook, and he was always fidgeting in class. He also didn’t talk much, and at least once a week he’d end up falling asleep in class with his head in his hand. 

“There’s not gonna be a wedding if you can’t even talk to the guy.” Robin said. “He’s not even scary! Dustin comes in to talk to Steve all the time about Hellfire. He’s just a dork.”

“I know and that’s the problem.” your voice was a strangled laugh mixed with a groan. 

“You showed up the first day of band and introduced yourself to everyone, even if they weren’t in your section. What is the hold up with you talking to Eddie?” Robin pried. 

“Because back then, it didn’t matter.” You looked over at Robin, poking at your mystery meat. “When I first got here it didn’t matter if anyone liked me or not. I was only supposed to be in this school for a few months and then graduate. Then I didn’t. I could handle it if someone didn’t like me. None of you were really supposed to matter to me. No offense.”

Thankfully, Robin didn’t seem offended. “You were just making nice with the inmates until parole.” she joked and you nodded. 

“Yup, and then when I realized that I was going to have to actually have a full other year of school, that meant that I was going to have to care if I was ever gonna graduate.” You continued. “Luckily you saw through all my bullshit bravado and started dragging me to movie nights with you and Steve.” 

“Yeah yeah, we love friendship. So what does any of this have to do with Eddie?” Robin said, not needing you to explain the backstory that she had been present for. 

“It means that with Mr. Munson, I unfortunately, care so fucking much what he thinks of me.” you relented. “He’s the biggest freak in school, and the dorkiest loser, and if I try and talk to him and he’s not interested in talking back I won’t be able to take it. Robin, I will simply lay down and be dead for the rest of my life.”

“That’s not how that works, you can’t be dead for the rest of your life.” She shook her head, her brows furrowed. “Because if you’re dead then... you’re not alive”

“Schrodinger's corpse then. Alive and dead at the same time.” 

“Look, just send him the stupid candygram. The worst he can do is say no.” She stood up from the table and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go.”

And that’s how you ended up at the booth, jotting down Eddie’s name on a piece of paper and shoving a few quarters in the till with Robin looking smug. “I doubt he’s ever gotten one anyway, if anything he should be thrilled that someone wanted to send him one.”

“If this kills me, Steve’s in charge of the music at my funeral.” you sighed. 

---

Candygrams were being handed out and delivered through the week. You weren’t paying attention to what period they were supposed to be handed out, and so when two students in obnoxious heart shirts and fake wings burst into your science class with Eddie right next to you, you were about ready to throw yourself out a window. 

No one was surprised when Janet and Charlie were tossed a few candygrams, but everyone’s head whipped around when the red heart shaped lollipop and card was set on Eddie Munson’s desk. Eddie himself seemed more surprised than anyone. 

He had the lollipop in his mouth before he even opened the note attached and you were seconds away from bolting out the door. With any luck, maybe he didn’t know your name even after weeks of sitting next to each other. 

“Who’s it from, freak?” asked Patrick, the basketball jock who sat a few rows ahead. That earned a few snickers from the class. 

“It’s from your mom.” Eddie said without missing a beat and taking out the lollipop. “Tell her I say thanks.”

More laughter from the class as Patrick stood up as if ready to fight, but the teacher quickly told him to sit down. 

Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You felt a bit guilty that your candygram had kicked up a fuss, but at least Eddie didn’t out you as the person who sent it to him. In fact he wasn’t looking over at you at all. 

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he flipped the card around, as if looking for something. All that was written was his name and “YOU’RE SWEET!” written in cheesy font and his name scribbled in your handwriting. 

And nothing else. 

You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry at your stupidity. You’d been so jumbled and nervous that you’d forgotten to sign the damn thing. Robin was gonna have a field day with this one. 

Eddie kept fidgeting with the card through the rest of class, twisting it and bending it until it was as crumpled and torn as your heart felt. He shoved it in his pocket and didn’t even glance at you as the bell rang and he stood up and tossed the eaten lollipop stick in the trash. 

It’s not personal. You told yourself. He has no idea who sent it to him.

That’s when you had a horrible idea, so stupid it might actually work. 

---

“Explain how this is going to work again?” Robin asked. “You’re going to keep sending him lollipops this week until he notices you?” 

“Sort of.” you said, buying another candygram. “I’ll just send him a few joke ones as a feeler and if he responds positively I’ll come clean. If not, I keep my dignity. It’s a win-win.”

“Since when do you care about your dignity?” Robin sorted. 

“Since I caught feelings for the least dignified guy in school, I guess.” You knew it was stupid, you knew it was ridiculous, but you already messed up once so you might as well lean into it. You scribbled his name down, this time signing it with a satisfied giggle. “This is so dumb.”

Oh, but it was so worth it. You had bought it before school started, guaranteeing that it’d be delivered the same day, handing over a crisp dollar to Nancy Wheeler who had volunteered for the booth. If Eddie had been surprised the first time, he looked almost shocked now.

Eddie, sorry I forgot to sign the first one! This card said, once again not giving away any sign of who it was actually from. You saw his eye sparkle in amusement as he ate his lollipop, and this time the card was read over a few times before being carefully tucked into his dungeon master notebook. 

By the third day, the novelty of Eddie Munson getting candygrams had worn off with the rest of your class, but Eddie’s grin only grew wider each time. 

“Anything for me, Cupid?” Eddie asked as the student council members walked back in to hand out more lollipops. 

He whooped as another one was dropped on his desk and he snatched up the card quickly and you had to cover your face and bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling at his excitement. 

Eddie, sorry I’m so bad at remembering to sign these things! I just get way too excited about sending them out that I lose focus. So anyway this card is actually from-

You had carefully spaced out your writing on the small rectangle of paper so that it left absolutely no room for you to sign your name. Eddie looked downright giddy as he read the note over and over. Seeing him so happy made your stomach burst into butterflies and even if he decided after this he wasn’t interested, this was enough. Knowing that he was smiling because of you was enough. 

Someone said your name and you looked up, surprised to see one of the student council members standing next to you and handing you a candygram. Your eyebrows shot up as you took it with a thanks and opened up the card. 

Who had sent one to you? You’d been so wrapped up in your little scheme you didn’t even consider that someone would try and send you one either. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you saw your name and a small drawing of what looked like an egg in a nest as the sender. Robin, of course. Probably making fun of you for sending candygrams to Eddie without signing either. 

You tucked the candygram in your own notebook safely and dared a glance over at Eddie again. You hadn’t expected for him to be looking back at you, and your heart jumped in your chest. He unwrapped his lollipop and lifted it slightly as if he was trying to toast. You held yours up as well to him, an off sense of camaraderie between two people who had their day temporarily disturbed for commercialized love. 

Thursday came around, Valentine's day proper, but they’d be doing one last day of candygrams on Friday as well. This was a fundraiser after all, and capitalism trumps any semblance of real sincerity. Well, you said that but that wasn’t exactly going to stop you from continuing your little plan. 

Today was the day you were going to pull out the big guns. You handed over a full $5 to have a carnation sent to Eddie, as well as a return to sender card to Robin for being a good friend. 

“Shouldn’t he be the one sending you a flower?” Nancy asked, handing you the card to write on. You wondered how Nancy had time for all of the extracurricular activities she had going on, working with the student council and the school newspaper. 

You just shrugged at the question, not realizing how wide you were smiling or how obviously warm your cheeks were. To anyone with two eyes, you were glowing and to anyone with one eye, you were phosphorescent. 

The disinterest that your classmates had from the last two rounds perked back up with a flower was delivered to Eddie that afternoon. 

“For little old me?” Eddie said, batting his eyelashes at the delivery boy as he took the carnation. You giggled to yourself as he opened the card again. 

Man, I’m bad at this aren’t I? Don’t worry, this time I’m writing very small so I have room to sign this card. Seeing you light up when these get delivered has made my whole week, and totally worth it. Anyway this is from- 

To be fair, you had actually signed your name this time. However this time you had made an attempt to erase it with one of those erasers. The horrible stiff ones that only made big smudges and made the mistake worse and nearly tore through the paper. You had carefully looked at your smudged signature for a long time before deciding it was illegible enough to send. 

Eddie faked a swoon in his seat, nearly toppling over onto the floor. “Come on!” he laughed, pushing himself back upright, smiling with his whole face. He looked over the note again, something clicking in his brain and you quickly looked down at the book you were currently pretending to read. 

“It’s someone in here.” you heard him mutter to himself and your heart started pounding in your chest. You focused on your breathing to try and stop yourself from giggling and giving yourself away. 

“Stop sending yourself stuff, Munson. It’s pathetic.” Patrick called out. 

“If you wanted me to be your Valentine, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask nicely.” Eddie said, but he sounded distracted as his eyes scanned the room for any hint of who this mysterious person is. “And next time, I’m more than happy with just the lollipop, it’s saving me on smokes.”

You didn’t even notice the lollipop on your desk until class had started back up. Unfolding the card you smiled to yourself, seeing that it was from Robin again. This time the egg in the nest had a crack in it and seemed to be hatching. You’d ask her about it later. 

Nothing said during the rest of class even registered with you, every word was in one ear and out the other. This had been a fun week sending Eddie all the lollipops and flowers but tomorrow was the last day to have something sent to him. 

Were you going to sign your name? That’s the million dollar question. You had told Robin that you would if Eddie seemed interested, and he had made it clear he was enjoying the attention. 

But would he still enjoy the attention if he learned it was from you? You two weren’t exactly friends, but not complete strangers either. He didn’t seem to dislike you, after all he’d raised a toast with you with your lollipops the other day. 

Well, if you were gonna put yourself out there, you were gonna do it on your own terms.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Robin said that Friday morning as you dropped a handful of ones on the table for one last hurrah. 

“Nope, I’ve committed.” you said, taking the small stack of cards and getting to work. 

“I’m going to have you committed.” Robin shook her head. “I mean, this is actually insane, you know that right? There’s no reason to go through all this trouble, when you could just talk to him.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, Buckley?” you asked, as you added one letter of your name to each of the cards. “Gotta make him work for it.”

“So you’re gonna give him a Valentine's themed word jumble as your big sign off?” 

“Yup.” you confirmed, adding his name to each of the cards. He’d get them all in one go and then it’s up to him to unscramble your name and figure it out. 

After that... well, the ball is in his court. 

Besides, if he liked the lollipops enough that he’d reach for one instead of a cigarette then that’s good enough. 

“You’re such a weirdo. You deserve each other.” Robin went on. “The Weirdo and the Freak. It’s like Beauty and the Beast except.. Not.”

“Robin, don’t you know three languages?” you snorted finishing up your stack and handing them over to be sent. “You are so much smarter than me, but this is where you lose words?”

“It’s Friday and I haven’t had coffee.” she pointed out. “Oh, thanks for sending me one by the way.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean you sent me one so I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging.” you nudged her playfully. 

“I didn’t send you one.” Robin looked at you, confused. 

“What?” You reached into your backpack and pulled out the notebook where you had placed the card and handed it to her. “But that’s a robin’s egg...?”

“It’s an egg, probably.” Robin agreed. “But I’m broke. I didn’t send any out.” 

You stared at the card with new eyes. If she didn’t send it, then who did?

---

“Holy shit.” Eddie muttered as a bag of lollipops was dumped on his desk with no rhyme or reason, earning a round of laughter and snickers from the class. The teacher had long since given up on trying to keep the class’s attention when the Cupid’s showed up. 

He sorted through the cards, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the different letters on the cards until he found one that had real words on it. 

Figure it out, Sucker <3 Eddie’s face was a wonderful mixture of amusement, bewilderment, and mild offense. 

One of the Cupid’s handed you another two lollipops as well. One was actually signed by one of your friends in band, and the other had another doodle of an egg. This time the egg was completely hatched and there was some sort of weird bird flying off. 

Not a robin. You decided, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be. 

You barely paid attention in class for the rest of the hour, your attention split between the three egg Valentines you received and the man next to you. Eddie had pulled out his Dungeon Master notebook to try and decode your message. You felt flattered that he was using his favored notebook to try and figure out your puzzle. 

Eddie was sucking on one of the lollipops diligently as he scribbled down random letters. Now that you thought about it, you’d never seen him look so studious in class before. You wondered if this is what he looked like when he was working on his campaigns and your brain decided to give you a treat of a daydream where the two of you were sitting around in your room while he explained his campaign and how he’d love to have someone like you join Hellfire-

It was three minutes before the bell, and that meant just a few minutes until your last period and the weekend. With Valentine’s day falling in the middle of the week, most of your friends were going to be off doing things with their partners. Maybe you, Robin, and Steve- no wait, Steve actually got dates. Robin worked on the weekend. 

Maybe Eddie- NOPE. Not going there, you were not about to get your hopes up for this. 

You glanced over at him again, looking at his notebook to see if he was anywhere close to decoding your name. Eddie had the worst handwriting you’d ever seen and so you would be surprised if he could even figure out his own notes. Between unjumbling your letters, he had started doodling in the margins. You assumed that they were D&D monsters from the look of it, since none of them looked like actual animals except for the bats in the corner. 

The only other thing you recognized was a dragon, drawn in a larger scale on the side of the page. It’s wings were expanded and it was flying off, and from this angle it looked like a weird...

It looked like some bird

Some sort of weird bird

Your head snapped back down to the card in front of you. This wasn’t a weird bird. It was a dragon. A dragon hatching from an egg. An egg that hatched a dragon. A dragon that was drawn with the same pose as the one in Eddie’s notebook. Eddie’s notebook had your dragon no wait, your card had his dragon-

Eddie Munson had sent you the cards. 

Eddie had-

“Oh.” You said out loud. You were nearly fighting back hysterical laughter at this, and you pressed your hands against your face, with your shoulder shaking with repressed laughter. 

Why the hell had Eddie sent you those cards? The two of you had barely spoken to each other!

 You did the same damn thing, dipshit. You reminded yourself. In fact you had gone way harder than he had. But what did this MEAN? 

The bell rang and everyone scrambled to get out of the classroom, and before you could say anything, Eddie was off and running out of the classroom at the speed of light. 

What was that about?

Robin was right. If you were ever going to have a chance with him, you were going to suck it up and talk to him, even if it meant possibly embarrassing yourself. Plus, finding out why he sent you three candygrams was currently trumping any fear of rejection. Curiosity killed the cat, but at least he died satisfied. You’re pretty sure how that saying went at least. 

You knew that Eddie had Hellfire today, it was Friday and he and all of his friends had been running around in their club shirts. With a deep breath you...realized you had no idea where the hell they actually met. 

This whole thing could have been planned better, actually. 

You started walking around the school blindly for any sign of the signature baseball tee that they all wore. If you found one of them, they were sure to lead you to Eddie. God, you felt like a stalker. 

There. Long dark curls against a stark white shirt with black sleeves. Your heart leapt in your chest, and you had to make the choice now. 

“E... Eddie! Wait up!” you called out, walking quickly towards him. 

When he turned around to look at you, you felt the air disappear from your lungs. How was it possible for him to be so beautiful and why the fuck did no one in this school seem to notice? 

Eddie pulled the lollipop he’d been sucking on out of his mouth, surprised to see you. 

“Hey.” he said. “Uh... you sit next to me in class.” 

He was either playing dumb, or you were about to make an ass of yourself. But, like Robin asked, since when do you care about dignity?

You reached into your bag and pulled out the candygrams that had been sent to you and holding them out. 

To your relief he gave you a bashful smile. “Guess you caught me, huh?” he asked. “You solved my Valentine’s puzzle.” 

“I have a pretty high intelligence when I apply myself.” you said, which only made him grin wide. “But I gotta say, Munson. I’m actually a little disappointed. I mean, sadistic and scary dungeon master of the Hellfire club, and this is the best puzzle you could come up with?”

He crossed his arms and took a step towards you. “Well, I don’t know you as well as I’d like.” he said, and your stomach erupted into butterflies. “Had to start somewhere.” 

“I guess I had to be sneaky and pay attention to you to figure it out. You’re hard not to notice, you know.” you admitted, crossing your arms as well to mimic him. 

“Being The Freak means I fail most stealth checks.” he shrugged. 

“High charisma though.” you threw out there, hoping that line would land and to your delight it did.

“It’s the Munson Magic. I come by it naturally.” Eddie’s smile was so wide it was cheesy but shit, it was working on you. 

“Not great intelligence though.” you smirked at him. 

“Oh? And how do you figure that?” He looked a little offended now, and you saw his shoulder stiffen as if he was waiting for this to suddenly go south. 

“Spell my name, Eddie.” 

You could see the lightbulb go off in his mind and his eyes widened. 

“You- wait, you were the one who kept sending me the cards?” Eddie looked nothing short of bewildered and ecstatic. You had a feeling that if things went well, you wouldn’t have to worry about ever knowing what he was thinking as he wore every emotion on his sleeve. 

“Surprise?” you asked, playing with the strap of your backpack. 

Eddie licked his lips, chasing the last of the flavor of the sucker he’d been eating. He looked at you, as if searching for something, and you cut in before he had the chance to find it. 

“Do you want to hang out sometime?” you asked, a little louder than you meant to. “Like, just us.”

“Do you think you can handle a date with The Freak?” Eddie asked, standing a little straighter. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and I promise the worst of them are true.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Eddie, I’ve always wanted to join Hellfire.” you smirked. “I’m sure there are worse things for a first date than sacrificing someone to Satan, or summoning demons, or joining a cult.”

“I’m a gentleman, I would never ask a lady to summon demons on the first date. That’s at least a third date activity.” Eddie held his hand to his heart and raised a hand as if making an oath. 

Oh yeah, you were going to marry him. You were already picturing proposing to him and taking him away from this town. 

“Then how about dinner at Benny’s?” you suggested. “Burgers and shakes on me and you can tell me more about Hellfire and dragons and I can give you a spelling lesson.”

Eddie ran his ringed fingers through his hair and you giggled as the rings got snagged and he struggled to untangle them. 

“It’s.. a date then.” he said, but it came out as more of a question, as if he was asking if this was really happening. 

“A date.” You agreed, handing him your number, having come prepared. 

As you began to walk away, he called out after you. 

“Wait! You said you wanted to check out Hellfire, right?” Eddie said and you turned to look at him. “I’m... I’m actually running a one shot tonight. Kind of beginner friendly enough. I don’t often do this in the middle of the semester but one of our usuals dropped out because he had a date so... we have an open seat at the table. If you think you can handle it.”

Your smile widened as you walked over to him. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Eddie offered his arm to you, as if he were a gentleman which you took eagerly. 

“So... how do you actually spell your name?” 

---

Dear Reader, I hope you have the easiest name to spell because that would make this fic at least 3% funnier. Also, I'm proud I got this done before Valentine's day because I never even finished my Halloween or Christmas fic. Be proud of me.

Please reblog if you enjoyed it <3

Tag List: @gagasbee, @ihaventgotaclue-really @tastefullyferal @anonymouskiwi @hellfiredarling

[777heavengirl]

the one where you guess

sirius black x reader ! - 1,599 words masterlist bags masterlist

You guessed you should’ve seen it coming. 

You should’ve guessed this was the end. 

You had known Sirius Black since age 11. Since you got on that train, since he cracked nervous jokes under his breath while you waited to be sorted, since you started that new chapter of your life, he’s been the constant in your life.

You were kids together, reckless and loud and stupid. You were teens together, somehow even more stupid, somehow closer, somehow more alive and electric just from being attached at the hip. You had become adults together. Real people, with an apartment of your own and friends who expected a baby and a job and trips on the tube and purchasing vegetables form a farmer’s market. Adults, somehow still stupid, somehow closer yet farther than ever, somehow different but still the same. 

The truth was you had lived with Sirius Black since you were 11. Even at Hogwarts, you did the same things, you ate meals together, you walked around and joked and talked with your friends while the sides of your bodies were pressed together on the couch.

 In a way, nothing had changed.

It had been you and him since before you were you. 

You had never thought about what life without him would look like.

His bed was well made, tucked in, and without wrinkles. The cool grey of the sheets glared at you as you sat on them, disturbing it with the waves and folds that formed underneath your weight. It was the first time you had ever been in his room. At least the first time you had walked more than five steps inside. Now here you were, wrinkling his bed, staring longingly at his shut trunk and empty walls. 

Alone.

You guessed he was at the Potter’s. You didn’t know. He hadn’t said.

You hadn’t seen him since Regulus told him the news.

Walburga Black was dead. Died in her sleep with a peace she didn’t deserve, unpunished, calm, painless. Unfair.

 It had been three days. Not an alarming amount of time for anyone else. But for Sirius it was. Even in his anger the past few weeks, he still came home every night. Staring into your eyes briefly before he went into his room. But he came home nonetheless.

 He hadn’t since that day.

It was burned into your mind, into the back of your eyelids. The way his face fell, the mask of bravery falling quicker than you could ever imagine. You saw him again, the small damaged boy you first met.

Scared and shattered. You guessed he never stopped being those things.

Sirius and Regulus did not know how to love or comfort each other in any way that mattered. Even in the face of this, they only knew how to fight, silently and bitterly, without words, or loud and angry, with statements they’d never be able to take back nor forget. You knew this, you had always known this. The first words out of Sirius’s mouth being booming statements of how dare you’s and go bury yourself with her then’s. Regulus wasn’t any less biting. But at one point, between the yelling over each other and the cursing the dead out, Regulus started crying. Fat, hot tears streaming down his face as he continued to roar statements he did not mean, voice wobbling and hoarse as the grief overtook him. You could see the red rim around Sirius’s eyes and the way that he kept pressing his fingers into his eyes, the glare of the light bouncing off of the wetness that decorated his cheeks as well. He prayed n vain that the tears weren't visible.

In your kitchen, under the warm light that hung from the ceiling and in between mismatched furniture and handmade drinkware, the Black brothers were no longer made of stone,

Yet they continued to yell, at each other, at their deceased mother, at a father they both prayed would die off sooner rather than later. You couldn’t even tell what they had been arguing about, but if you had to guess it was probably not even against each other at all. 

It never had been. 

Sirius stormed out shortly after that, not even sparing you a glance. Regulus crumbled to the floor as he cried and you were left to pick up the pieces of the broken boy. As he left he tried, even with his skin blotchy from crying and cheeks still wet, he tried to harden his stare again. It didn’t work. But he thanked you, in his eyes a silent plea to never mention the incident again. Sirius is not allowed at the funeral, he said, I doubt he’d even want to go though and left.

So now you sat, three days later, on Sirius’s meticulously made bed.

It was hard not to feel hurt about the fact that he left. That even in his most vulnerable moment, he couldn’t bring himself to turn to you. Not anymore. 

You guessed this was the end.

Maybe he’d never come back, maybe he’d come back in the middle of the night and silently take his stuff out. Without a single word to you. Maybe he’d send James, or Remus, to retrieve his singular trunk. Maybe you’d never lay eyes on Sirius Black again.

You thought hard about it, your hands gripping the cold sheets so tightly your knuckles lightened. Maybe this is what you wanted, to move on, to grow apart, on your own.

Alone. 

Maybe you needed to be an adult alone, careful and quiet, and still after all this time, stupid. Your father certainly never let you forget it. 

You focused on the silence around you. Even in the empty room, with the bare walls and the boring sheets, even in the unnerving stillness it still felt like Sirius. You could smell his cologne, in the mattress, in the air, everywhere. The freshness of it reminded you of a windswept shore, like the ones you traveled around together after graduation. It was still somehow, earthy and mineral. He said it smelled like freedom.

You always said he was an idiot. 

But you understood what he meant now, even in the confines of his room.

His motorbike's helmet sat discarded on a chair, the glossy red and black of it staring at you. You began to notice, all of the little things thrown about, the used coffee cup, the wooden box that was overflowing with sticky notes, you could see your handwriting from where you sat, the pictures he taped to his wall right next to his bed, between the window and the corner of the room. You had never thought about it, never considered it, but even in its hallowed out state, Sirius’s room reeked of him. The ashtray near the window, the camera and developed film on the desk, the sweater Euphemia Potter had knitted him Christmas of sixth year on the back of the chair. 

Maybe his room hadn't been as empty as you thought. Maybe it had actually always been full of him. In a way.

You thought about the room being truly empty, you guessed it would come soon enough. No excessive amount of photographs, no helmet, no unpacked bags, no ash anywhere, and the smell of cigarettes and the freshness of his cologne gone.

A ghost to haunt you even if you were to move out.

If you could keep anything of his, you thought about this hard, already mourning what you were sure was to come— you’d keep the quiet afternoons. The ones where you curled up on the sofa, his arm around you, your legs over his. The ones where you’d silently giggle at the soap opera, and steal bites of his food. The ones where you could feel your heart beating in your ears and it grew harder to deny how much you loved him.

But no.

You could do this alone. Pick up more shifts, look for a job in the Ministry maybe. Maybe ask Mary to move in. Maybe move somewhere cheaper and be alone. 

Independent. 

You tried to think of yourself alone, in an apartment with white walls and neatly arranged pictures your dad would measure the distance and size between. Making sure they all looked even, he’d still yell at you for not being able to “do it properly by yourself.” Every image in a frame. Every piece of furniture matching and neat, and still. 

Quiet. 

Cold.

An apartment still as a pond. 

You felt like you were staring into it, from the bed, like you could reach into your mind and be there. In the stillness of such a place. Your dad would love it. Maybe you have a good job, maybe you even wear business clothes— neat slacks or skirts, in navy or black, with crisp white button-up shirts and heels that make your feet hurt but you’d never complain. Maybe you’d learn how to live on your own, balanced and dutiful and busy. Maybe you don’t see any of your friends anymore, and maybe you finally feel like an adult. You are older alone, somehow not stupid anymore, somehow lonelier, somehow more suffocated and overwhelmed just from being alone.

You didn’t notice the jingle of his keys, nor the turn of the lock or the door that opened. You stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears without realizing his presence at all. Not until he swung open the door and your head snapped down to see Sirius, standing at his door. Porcelain skin tainted with red splotches, eyes clouded from tears, and puffy features, remainders of how much he had cried.

You realized, at this moment— when your eyes met his grey ones,

Without him, you did not yet know quite how to live. 

A/N: happy halloween LMAO its a bit later than I wanted to post but its here nonetheless... Idk if the series is moving too slow, maybe if i uploaded more often but alas! uni has me by my nonexistent balls... also i promise they're going to start patching it up soon xoxo

hope u guys enjoy!

posting this one a day early for my lovely @neverthatsirius-jo <3 mwah

[reidmarieprentiss]

Too Sweet

Summary: Y/N knows Spencer is too good for her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), angst, light fluff

Warnings/Includes: porn with plot, additional warnings under the cut, cosplay, wearing dress, use of Y/N, alcohol consumption

Word count: 11.9k

a/n: idk man i really want him

main masterlist

part two part three

Additional warnings: breast & nipple play, fingering, oral (m&f), PinV protected, biting

The convention hall buzzed with excitement, filled with an array of fans dressed as their favorite characters from the iconic series, Doctor Who. The air was alive with the chatter of people discussing their favorite episodes, theories about the show's plot twists, and the inevitable debates about which Doctor was the best. Vendors lined the walls, offering everything from collectible sonic screwdrivers to handmade TARDIS keychains.

Spencer Reid and Penelope Garcia were two of these enthusiastic attendees. Spencer was dressed impeccably as his favorite Doctor, the Eleventh, complete with a tweed jacket, bow tie, and fez perched jauntily on his head. Penelope, meanwhile, dazzled as the vibrant Thirteenth Doctor, sporting a rainbow-striped shirt, long coat, and bright yellow suspenders. Her hair was styled to perfection, and she wore a replica of the Thirteenth Doctor’s sonic screwdriver clipped to her belt.

They had spent the day gleefully exploring the convention together, indulging in all the nerdy joys the event had to offer. Panels, merchandise, photo ops with actors—they were having a fantastic time. They even participated in a trivia contest, which Spencer naturally excelled in, earning them a special edition Doctor Who poster. Everything was going splendidly until they ran into Penelope's ex, Kevin Lynch, who had the audacity to show up with his new date, a tall brunette who seemed to be equally as nerdy as Penelope.

Penelope's face fell as she spotted Kevin, her previous enthusiasm dimming slightly. She forced a smile and waved at Kevin, who looked surprised but waved back, a bit awkwardly.

"Penelope!" Kevin said, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. "It's, uh, great to see you here."

"Yeah, you too, Kevin," Penelope replied, her voice wavering slightly as she glanced at his date. She couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment and an awkward tension that hung in the air.

The encounter was brief, but it left Penelope feeling deflated. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she quickly excused herself and turned to Spencer, whispering that she needed a moment alone. Spencer nodded understandingly, his eyes filled with empathy, and watched as Penelope hurried off, clearly upset.

Now alone amidst the bustling crowd, Spencer found himself wandering around the convention hall, a bit lost without Penelope by his side. Despite being surrounded by thousands of people who shared his interests, he felt an uncomfortable sense of solitude creeping in. He adjusted his bow tie nervously, his eyes scanning the room for a friendly face or familiar sight.

As he wandered, Spencer couldn't help but feel self-conscious, almost like a lost puppy in a sea of strangers. The convention was vast, and though he loved the atmosphere, it was a lot to take in alone. He fiddled with his fez, trying to focus on the displays and booths around him, but the sense of being out of place lingered.

It was then that he noticed you, standing a short distance away, dressed as the most enchanting character from Doctor Who—Madame de Pompadour, The Girl in the Fireplace.

Your costume was a stunning recreation of the elegant 18th-century dress worn by Reinette, complete with intricate lace details, flowing skirts, and an opulent corset that captured the character's timeless beauty. A perfectly styled wig with cascading curls crowned your head, adding an authentic touch to your ensemble. You wore a delicate mask in your hand, which you twirled absentmindedly as you observed the convention floor, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Spencer with an amused curiosity. But what struck Spencer most was your warm smile, a beacon of kindness amidst the chaos.

You had noticed Spencer earlier, observing him with a gentle curiosity as he meandered through the crowd. Something about his endearing awkwardness and the way he carried himself drew your attention, and you found yourself walking over to him, compelled by a mix of admiration and empathy.

With a kind and playful smile, you approached him and said, "Hey, you look lost. Do you need help finding your parents?"

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise at your teasing comment, and he let out a surprised snort, momentarily caught off guard. He quickly recovered from his initial embarrassment and noticed the twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

"Uh, no, no thank you," he replied with a sheepish grin. "I was given permission to look around by myself."

Your laughter was infectious, and Spencer felt the tightness in his chest ease. It was as if your presence alone had a calming effect, grounding him in the moment and reminding him that he wasn't truly alone. Your genuine kindness and humor were like a breath of fresh air.

"I'm glad to hear it," you said, still smiling as you playfully curtsied. "I'm Y/N, by the way. A fellow time traveler, it seems."

Spencer hesitated for a moment before bowing slightly at the waist, feeling a little more confident now. "Spencer Reid," he replied, introducing himself. "And yes, it seems we both have a knack for getting lost in time."

Your shared laugh seemed to lighten the atmosphere, and Spencer couldn't help but feel grateful for your unexpected companionship. It was a simple moment, yet it carried a weight of significance—an unexpected connection made in the most delightful of circumstances.

As the vibrant crowd continued to flow around you, your conversation with Spencer felt like a moment suspended in time, a quiet bubble amidst the lively chaos of the convention. The laughter, chatter, and occasional shout of delight from fellow fans echoed through the hall, but you found yourself entirely focused on the man standing before you.

"So, Spencer," you began, looking around at the lively crowd, "what's been your favorite part of the convention so far?"

“Well, I won the trivia contest!” Spencer replied with enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up with pride. “I love seeing everyone’s costumes too, the creativity and thought they put into them is inspiring. And the food court! Did you see they have—why are you looking at me like that? Am I rambling? Oh, I am, hah, sorry.”

You chuckled softly, finding his rambling endearing. “Don’t stop on my account; I happen to think it’s very cute.”

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your compliment. “You… you do?”

“Indeed, Doctor,” you replied with a playful glint in your eye.

“How did you know I’m a doctor?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Um…” you pointed at his costume, a classic Doctor Who ensemble that perfectly captured the essence of the Eleventh Doctor. 

“Oh! Right, you meant Doctor Who Doctor,” he realized, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

“Yes, but are you really a doctor?” you inquired, intrigued by the idea of him being both a fictional and real-life doctor.

Spencer nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and pride. “I have three PhDs.”

“Oh wow, that’s hot,” you said, your voice teasing yet sincere, enjoying the way his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink.

“What?” he squeaked, clearly flustered by your unexpected compliment.

“Tell me, Spencer… do you have plans after the convention?” you asked, leaning in slightly, your interest in him evident.

“Um, no, nope. No, I do not. Totally free,” Spencer stammered, trying to keep his composure but feeling his heart race at the prospect of spending more time with you.

“Good to know,” you replied with a warm smile. “Would you like to get a drink with me?”

“I would love to,” he answered, his voice brimming with exhilaration.

“Wonderful,” you said, pleased with his response.

The two of you exchanged numbers, a small gesture that felt monumental, sealing the promise of further connection beyond the convention's vibrant confines. As you parted ways, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

As he watched you disappear into the colorful sea of costumes, you turned back to Spencer, your heart still racing with the promise of more time together. “I’ll see you later, Spencer,” you said, offering him one last lingering smile before slipping away into the crowd.

Spencer stood there for a moment, his mind whirling with possibilities and the thrill of new connections. As he adjusted his fez and prepared to rejoin Penelope, he smiled to himself, the Doctor Who theme echoing in the distance as he headed back into the lively fray.

—

Later that night, you and Spencer agreed to meet up at a cozy little bar nestled in a bustling neighborhood near your apartment. The day had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure at the Doctor Who convention, but now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights twinkled, a new kind of eagerness filled the air.

You arrived at the bar first, filled with anticipation and nervousness. Gone was the elegant 18th-century gown you wore at the convention; you now wore a low-cut, tight shirt that hugged your curves and showed off a bit more cleavage than before. It was a bold choice, one that made you feel confident and sexy, and you hoped Spencer would appreciate it.

As you waited for Spencer to arrive, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of fever at seeing him again. Something about his awkward charm and genuine kindness had struck a chord with you, and you were eager to see where the evening might lead.

When Spencer walked in, your breath caught at the sight of him. Gone was the Eleventh Doctor costume, replaced by a classic sweater vest ensemble that was quintessentially Spencer Reid. He wore a crisp button-down shirt under the vest, paired with slacks that somehow made him look both dorky and endearingly handsome. You found it incredibly attractive, and a smile tugged at your lips as he approached.

“Hey,” he said, a bit shyly, his eyes darting around the bar before settling on you. When he noticed your outfit, he froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of your low-cut shirt. “Wow, you look... amazing.”

“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Doctor.”

Spencer chuckled, running a hand through his hair in a self-conscious gesture. “I, uh, didn’t know what to wear, but I’m glad it works.”

“Oh, it definitely works,” you assured him, your gaze lingering on his sweater vest. “I have a thing for sweater vests.”

He laughed, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Good to know. I have plenty of them.”

You motioned for him to join you at the bar, where you ordered drinks and settled into a comfortable conversation. The atmosphere was relaxed, with soft music playing in the background and the hum of conversations surrounding you.

“So, how did you get into Doctor Who?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious as he took a sip of his drink.

“I’ve always been a fan of science fiction,” you replied, leaning closer to ensure he could hear you over the chatter. “The idea of time travel, the adventures, and the characters just drew me in. Plus, the show has this amazing ability to make you think about life in new ways.”

Spencer nodded, clearly pleased with your answer. “I completely agree. The show is more than just entertainment; it’s a way to explore complex ideas and emotions. I think that’s why it resonates with so many people.”

“Exactly!” you said enthusiastically, enjoying the ease of conversation between you. “And what about you? What drew you to the series?”

Spencer shrugged, his eyes twinkling with the joy of discussing something he loved. “It started as a way to escape, I guess. Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of friends, but Doctor Who was like a companion, in a way. It taught me a lot about empathy and bravery.”

You smiled, touched by his honesty. “That’s really great, Spencer.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking a bit bashful under your gaze. “I’m glad I met someone who appreciates the show as much as I do.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a dance of words that brought you closer with each exchange. You found yourself laughing easily, the tension of earlier dissipating as you both shared stories and jokes, losing track of time in the warm ambiance of the bar.

As the night wore on, you noticed Spencer stealing glances at your shirt, his eyes flickering to your cleavage before quickly averting his gaze, trying to be polite. You couldn’t help but find his flustered reactions adorable, and you decided to tease him a little.

“Is there something interesting over here?” you asked, gesturing to your chest with a playful grin.

Spencer’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he stammered, “Uh, no, I mean, yes, but—oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

You laughed softly, reaching out to touch his hand reassuringly. “Relax, Spencer. I don’t mind. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

He exhaled, clearly relieved by your response. “Well, in that case, yes, it’s very distracting,” he admitted, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“Good to know I still have it,” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You definitely do.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, filled with the promise of more to come. As the night deepened, the conversation shifted from playful banter to something more intimate, the chemistry between you undeniable.

“So, Spencer,” you said, your voice dropping to a more sultry tone. “What does the rest of your night look like? Are you all booked up?”

“Um, no, not really,” he replied, his heart racing as he caught the glint in your eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” you said, leaning closer, “I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my place. We could continue our conversation somewhere a bit more private.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, his mind spinning with possibilities. “I would love that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Great,” you replied with a smile, feeling a thrill of anticipation as you both stood up, ready to leave the bar behind for the promise of what awaited you.

The walk back to your apartment was filled with a charged silence, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. You felt Spencer’s presence beside you, a comforting warmth that made your heart race with excitement.

As you reached your apartment building, you turned to him, your eyes meeting in a shared understanding. “This is me,” you said, gesturing to the entrance.

“Nice place,” Spencer commented, trying to keep his cool despite the nerves bubbling inside him.

You unlocked the door and led him inside, your heart pounding with each step. The atmosphere was electric, one that promised something incredible.

Once inside, you turned to face Spencer, a playful smile on your lips. “Make yourself at home,” you said, gesturing to the cozy living room. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just some water would be great,” he replied, trying to steady his racing heart.

You nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two glasses of water. As you handed one to Spencer, your fingers brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through you both.

“Thank you,” Spencer said, his voice warm and sincere.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, sitting down beside him on the couch. The proximity was intoxicating, and you could feel the tension building with each passing second.

“I have to say, I’m really glad we met today.” Spencer said, his voice slightly shaky. 

“Me too,” you agreed, your gaze locked on his.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the world fading away until it was just the two of you, enveloped in a bubble of connection and desire.

As you leaned in closer, your lips mere inches from his, Spencer’s breath hitched in suspense. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the magnetic pull drawing you together.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice a soft caress.

“Yes?” he replied, his eyes searching yours, filled with longing.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you asked, your words laced with an invitation that left little room for doubt.

Spencer swallowed, his heart racing as he processed your offer. “I’d love to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

With that, you closed the distance between you, capturing his lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with promise and possibility, a moment that transcended the ordinary and ventured into the extraordinary.

Spencer kissed you back with a low whimper as he began to ravish you. His lips were soft and urgent against yours, moving with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the strain in his body as he pressed against you, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to spark and crackle in the air around you.

You responded eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands slip between your fingers as you deepened the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of the lingering sweetness of the drinks you'd shared earlier and something distinctly Spencer that made you crave more.

Spencer's hands moved with a purpose, exploring the curves of your body with a gentle yet insistent touch that left you breathless. His fingertips traced the outline of your spine, sending delightful tingles through your skin as they traveled lower, coming to rest on the small of your back. You arched into his touch, pressing your body more firmly against his, savoring the feel of him against you.

With a quiet moan, Spencer shifted, guiding you backward until you were lying beneath him on the couch. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath warm and ragged against your lips as he gazed down at you with a smoldering intensity. The look in his eyes sent a thrill through you, a promise of the pleasures to come.

Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips once more as his hands continued their exploration. His touch was both tender and demanding, a perfect balance that left you yearning for more. You felt his fingers trail over your exposed skin, slipping beneath the fabric of your low-cut shirt, and you shivered in anticipation as he began to explore further.

The sensation of his hands against your bare skin was electrifying, each touch sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, an insistent ache that begged for more as Spencer's touch became more insistent. His hands roamed over your body with a confidence that contradicted the initial shyness you had seen in him earlier.

Your shirt slipped further up your torso, and Spencer's lips left yours to follow the path his hands had traced moments before. His mouth moved with a deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your jawline, down the column of your neck, and across your collarbone. Each kiss was a promise, a vow of what was to come, and you found yourself lost in the sensations he was creating.

As Spencer's mouth traveled lower, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his sweater vest. The texture of the material beneath your fingertips was a comforting contrast to the fiery sensations his lips and hands were invoking, grounding you even as you felt yourself soaring.

Spencer's lips moved over the swell of your breasts, his touch reverent yet possessive, as if he were memorizing every inch of your skin with his mouth. You felt a thrill at the thought of being the focus of his attention. 

Spencer’s lips ghosted over your skin, each kiss sending waves of heat coursing through your body. As he reached the edge of your shirt, he paused, his fingers gently teasing the hem as he looked up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Are you planning on keeping this on all night?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You chuckled softly, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Well, Doctor, I thought I’d give you something to unwrap. Consider it a mystery.”

Spencer grinned, his fingers deftly pulling your shirt higher until it slipped over your head, leaving you exposed beneath him. His gaze raked over your bare skin, appreciation evident in his eyes. “Mystery solved,” he whispered, his tone filled with a mixture of desire and admiration.

You felt a rush of heat at his words, your skin tingling. “You’re a fast learner,” you replied, your voice sultry as you reached up to pull him back down to you. “But let’s see if you can handle what’s next.”

His eyes darkened with intensity at your challenge, and he captured your lips in another heated kiss, his hands exploring your newly exposed skin with renewed vigor. The sensations were dizzying, each touch and caress a testament to his growing confidence and desire.

Spencer’s hands traveled down your sides, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You let out a quiet moan, arching into his touch as he began to work them down, his fingers deft and sure.

“Getting a bit bold, aren’t we?” you teased, nipping at his lower lip as he freed you from the confines of your clothing.

“Just trying to keep up with you,” he retorted, his voice tinged with amusement as he leaned back to admire his handiwork.

You reached for the hem of his sweater vest, tugging it upwards with a playful smirk. “I think it’s time we even the playing field, don’t you?”

He chuckled, raising his arms to help you remove the vest, followed by his button-down shirt. You couldn’t help but appreciate the lean muscles beneath his clothing, the way his skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.

“Not bad, Doctor,” you quipped, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest appreciatively. “Maybe I should have gone to med school.”

Spencer let out a low laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I doubt they teach this in med school.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a course or two,” you replied, your fingers trailing lower, teasing the waistband of his pants.

He inhaled sharply, his body responding to your touch in a way that made you both feel like you were on fire. “I think we’re about to graduate to something more advanced,” he murmured, his voice a mix of fieriness and teasing.

You grinned, pulling him back down to you, your lips capturing his in a passionate kiss that promised more than words ever could. The heat between you was intense, a consuming fire that left you both breathless and wanting more.

Spencer’s hands continued their exploration, mapping every inch of your skin with a reverence that made your heart race. You could feel the tension building, a delicious feeling that promised to leave you both satisfied yet craving even more.

As you shifted beneath him, your body pressed against his in a way that made your intentions clear, you whispered, “What do you say we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

He nodded, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own. “Lead the way,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

With that, you guided him toward your bedroom, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air like an electric charge. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the enticing possibilities that lay ahead.

Once inside your bedroom, the atmosphere shifted, the intimacy of the space amplifying the pull between you. The dim lighting cast shadows across the room, creating an intimate bubble that felt like it was just for you and Spencer.

You turned to face him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you slowly backed toward the bed. “I hope you’re ready for this, Doctor.”

He followed, his movements confident and sure as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been ready since the moment I saw you,” he replied, his voice low and filled with want.

As you sank onto the bed, Spencer joined you, his body warm and inviting against yours. The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that drew you closer with each passing second.

You reached for him, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw before pulling him in for another searing kiss. His lips were soft and insistent against yours, his touch possessive as he pressed you back against the sheets. The mattress dipped under your combined weight, and you felt the cool, crisp fabric of the sheets beneath your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Spencer’s body.

Spencer’s breath mingled with yours, warm and intoxicating with desire. His hands traveled with a deliberate slowness, exploring the curves and contours of your body as though committing every inch to memory. You felt his fingers skim over the bare skin of your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The sensation was electric, sending delightful tingles coursing through your veins.

As he deepened the kiss, a low groan rumbled in his throat, vibrating through your body and sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. Your hands found their way to his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin as you pulled him closer, craving the warmth and weight of him against you.

His lips moved with a languid, teasing rhythm, exploring the delicate skin of your neck with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that sent your heart racing. You tilted your head back, granting him better access as a soft sigh escaped your lips, filling the room with a quiet sound of pleasure.

Spencer’s kisses trailed lower, his breath hot against your skin as he made his way down your collarbone. The sensation was intoxicating, a delicious mix of tenderness and urgency that left you breathless. You felt his hands slide up your sides, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ribcage before coming to rest on your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers threading through his hair as you arched into his touch. “Get to the point, Doctor.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and enticing, as he shifted his weight to hover above you, his eyes dark with longing. The air between you crackled with intensity, a potent mix of suspense and need that seemed to draw you even closer together.

Your breathing grew ragged, each inhale a shuddering gasp as you surrendered to the pleasure building inside you. Spencer’s touch was like a drug, addictive and all-consuming, leaving you dizzy with longing.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, a silent question lingering between you. You nodded, giving him the permission he sought, and he smiled—a small, intimate curve of his lips that made your heart skip a beat.

Spencer hands deftly working to remove the last barriers between you. The sensation of the cool air against your skin was a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his touch, sending shivers of need cascading through your body.

The room was filled with a symphony of soft sounds: the rustle of fabric as Spencer undressed you, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the rapid, excited beat of your own heart. The smell of your mingled scents—his cologne, a hint of your perfume, and the unmistakable musk of arousal—filled the air, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that heightened every sensation.

As Spencer’s hands continued their journey, his lips followed, pressing soft, heated kisses to every inch of exposed skin. The feel of his mouth against your body was electric, each kiss a spark that ignited a fire deep within you. You could hear the quiet, appreciative noises he made as he explored, a low hum of approval that vibrated through you, making your skin tingle with fever.

His mouth found the sensitive spot at the base of your throat, and he lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin and his teeth scraping behind. The sensation was exquisite, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as he continued his ministrations.

His mouth continued its journey, trailing kisses down the length of your torso, his breath hot and humid against your skin. Each touch of his lips was a promise, a hint of the pleasures yet to come. You could feel the gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin, a delightful roughness that added to the sensory overload.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your thighs, his fingers curling around the soft flesh as he gently parted them, creating space for himself between your legs. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a sweet ache that thrummed through your veins as you waited for his next move.

He paused for a moment, his breath warm and heavy against your inner thigh as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. The look in his eyes sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a silent communication of his intentions that left you breathless.

When he finally moved, it was with a purpose and a tenderness that took your breath away. His mouth found its mark, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the most intimate part of you. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of pleasure that left you gasping and trembling beneath him.

Spencer's tongue traced a path of fire, the wet heat of his mouth a stark contrast to the cool air around you. The feeling of his tongue against you was indescribable, a perfect blend of softness and pressure that had you writhing with need. You could hear the wet, rhythmic sounds of his movements, a deliciously sinful symphony that filled the room and drove you wild with desire.

The taste of you seemed to spur him on, his movements growing more insistent, more confident as he explored every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he lavished attention on you, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

You could feel the tension building, a tight coil of desire that wound tighter and tighter with each passing second. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your hands clutching at the sheets as you tried to hold on, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations Spencer was creating.

And then, with a final, masterful stroke of his tongue, the coil snapped, sending you spiraling into a blinding wave of ecstasy. Your body arched off the bed, a cry of pure pleasure escaping your lips as you surrendered to the intense release. Every nerve ending seemed to ignite, the pleasure radiating out from your core in waves that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

Spencer didn't stop, his movements gentling but never ceasing as he guided you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were spent and boneless beneath him. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the beating of your heart.

As the world slowly came back into focus, you felt Spencer's weight shift, his body sliding up to join you on the bed. He gathered you into his arms, his touch gentle and soothing as he held you close. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek, the warmth of his skin a comforting presence that grounded you.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "I may have misread you…" you murmured, your voice still breathless from the intensity of the experience.

Spencer looked at you, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he tried to read your expression. "How so?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent another wave of heat through you.

“I thought you were some nerdy dork who wouldn’t know what to do,” you confessed with a teasing grin, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “You proved me so wrong.”

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm like honey, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The touch was tender and sweet, a stark contrast to the intense passion you'd just shared.

As the warmth of his kiss lingered on your skin, a flicker of awareness crept into your mind, reminding you of the vulnerability of your current position. Spencer was undeniably pretty, fun, and, as you had just discovered, incredibly talented with his mouth. But letting him get too close, emotionally, was a different matter—a potential disaster waiting to happen.

You felt a pang of uncertainty, a reminder that you'd let yourself get carried away in the heat of everything today. The thought of letting him see more of you, of exposing the parts of yourself you kept hidden, was both thrilling and terrifying.

Gently, you scooted away, creating a small space between you on the bed. Spencer watched you with a slight frown, his brow furrowing in concern as he noticed the shift in your demeanor.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to touch your arm. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… taking a breather.”

He nodded, understanding but still curious. The moment hung between you, a delicate balance of intimacy and distance that you both navigated carefully.

Wanting to redirect the focus and return the favor, you shifted onto your knees, your movements deliberate and confident. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you, questioning flickering in his gaze.

You leaned forward, letting your hands glide over the planes of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The sensation was intoxicating, each touch sending a spark of desire through your body as you explored the contours of his torso.

“Now, Doctor,” you said, your voice low and teasing, “I think it’s my turn to show you what I can do.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched you with rapt attention. “I’m not going to stop you,” he replied, a playful edge to his voice as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows to give you full access.

You grinned, pleased by his response as you moved lower, your hands trailing down the length of his body. The texture of his skin was smooth and warm under your touch, each muscle firm and defined as you explored every inch with a deliberate slowness that made his breath catch.

The room was filled with the quiet rustle of sheets, the soft sounds of your movements as you shifted to straddle his legs, your body settling comfortably between his thighs. The anticipation in the air was palpable, a charged energy that seemed to crackle with each passing second.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your lips. The sensation was exhilarating, a rush of power and intimacy that left you wanting more.

Spencer let out a quiet groan, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to the sensations you were creating. The sound sent a thrill through you, a confirmation of the effect you had on him, and it spurred you on, encouraging you to continue your exploration.

You let your hands wander lower, tracing the line of his waistband before slipping beneath the fabric, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingers. Spencer’s breath hitched again, a soft, needy sound that made your heart race.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice a teasing whisper as you glanced up at him, enjoying the way his eyes were half-lidded with desire, his lips parted in want.

Spencer nodded, his voice a breathless murmur. “Mhm.”

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him so open and vulnerable beneath you. It was a heady feeling, one that made you want to give him everything you had, to explore every inch of him and discover all the ways you could make him come undone.

With a gentle touch, you eased his pants lower, revealing more of the skin you so desperately wanted to explore. The cool air kissed his skin, sending a shiver through him as you continued your ministrations, your hands and lips moving with a purposeful intent that left him gasping.

The texture of his skin under your fingers was smooth and warm, a contrast to the slightly rough fabric of his pants as they slid down his legs. You could feel the faint, steady beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips. The cool air seemed to heighten every sensation, sharpening the feeling of your touch against his bare skin.

As you explored lower, you could hear the soft, almost involuntary sounds Spencer made in response to your touch—a quiet gasp, a low moan, the sharp intake of breath when you grazed a particularly sensitive spot. Each sound proving the effect you were having on him, encouraging you to continue your exploration with renewed confidence.

You leaned in, your lips brushing over the expanse of skin just above his waistband, savoring the slightly salty taste of him. The feel of your mouth against his skin drew another low groan from Spencer, a needy sound that reverberated through your body and filled the room.

The slight roughness of his sparse hair beneath your lips was a contrast to the smooth skin of his abdomen, and you reveled in the differences, your fingers dancing over every inch as you memorized the planes and angles of his body. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, drawing you closer, urging you to explore further.

With every touch and kiss, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within him, a palpable energy that seemed to thrumming in the air around you. His muscles tensed under your hands, responding to your every movement with a sensitivity that only served to heighten your own arousal.

His hips shifted slightly, an involuntary movement that brought him closer to you, seeking more of the sensations you were creating. The friction of your touch against him was a delicious torment, each caress, each brush of your lips a promise of the release he so desperately craved.

You continued down, your mouth trailing lower with a deliberate slowness that was as much for your pleasure as it was for his. The taste of his skin lingered on your lips, a reminder of the connection you shared, the chemistry that burned brightly between you.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he guided you closer to his bulge that you had been neglecting, his touch both gentle and insistent. The slight tug at your scalp sent a shiver through you, a thrill of eagerness that urged you to continue your exploration with even more fervor.

Your lips traveled lower, past where he wanted you, tracing a path along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh with your lips and tongue, where you could feel the taut muscle beneath. The sensation of his skin against your lips, the warmth of his body, the subtle tremor that ran through him as you pressed a lingering kiss to his hip—all of it combined to create a heady mix of sensations that left you breathless.

The soft rustle of the sheets beneath you was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet, rhythmic hum of Spencer’s breathing and the occasional low moan that slipped past his lips. You could feel the way his body responded to your touch with an eagerness that mirrored your own. It was a dance of give and take, a perfect harmony of movements and sensations that left you both on the edge of control.

Spencer’s hands tightened in your hair, a gentle reminder of his presence, his need, and you responded by drawing him deeper into the sensations, your touch sure and steady as you worked to bring him closer to the edge. 

Finally, putting the poor man out of his misery, you hooked your fingers in his waistband and pulled his briefs down. Exposing him to the cool air, causing him to shiver. Then, because you’re not a monster, you licked a slow stripe up the side of his red, hard cock, causing a very loud groan to fall from between Spencer's lips.

The moment stretched out, filled with a tension that was both electric and tangible. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths, a quiet rhythm that underscored the intense moment.

Your fingers brushed against his skin, tracing a delicate path along the line of his hip bone. You could feel the subtle tremor that ran through him. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, drawing you closer, urging you to continue your exploration with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperate.

Spencer’s body was a study in contrasts—the hard lines of muscle beneath the softness of skin, the way he shivered under your touch even as he leaned into it, seeking more of the sensations you were creating. 

The cool air caressed his exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your touch. You watched as goosebumps erupted along his flesh, a physical manifestation of his heightened arousal. The sight sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, a reminder of the power you held in this moment.

You leaned in, your breath warm against his cock as you placed a soft, lingering kiss along the tip. The taste of him was addictive, a heady mix of salt and musk that left you wanting more. The feeling of his skin beneath your lips was electric, sending shivers of excitement through your body.

Spencer let out a quiet groan, a low, primal sound that reverberated through the room and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. His hands found their way, deeper somehow, in your hair, his grip firm and steady as he urged you closer, his need evident in the way he moved you.

His cock twitched in response to your touch, the sensation was dizzying, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that left you breathless. You allowed your fingers to explore further, tracing a slow, deliberate path along the length of his shaft. The texture was smooth and warm, a perfect contrast to the cool air that surrounded you. You could feel the faint tremor in his muscles, a testament to his struggle to maintain control in the face of such intense sensation.

“Please, please do something,” Spencer nearly whined, his voice tinged with desperation as he watched you with wide eyes, his body trembling with need.

As you finally leaned in, allowing your mouth to join the dance of sensation and touch, you heard Spencer’s breath hitch in his throat, a quiet sound of desire that filled the room. The taste of him on your tongue was intoxicating, a rich, heady mix of salt and musk that left you craving more.

The moment your lips made contact, Spencer released a shuddering exhale, his body responding to the heat of your mouth with a visceral intensity that took your breath away. His hips shifted involuntarily, each movement sending ripples of sensation through your body as well.

The sound of your mouth against his skin was almost hypnotic, a rhythmic whisper that echoed through the room, mingling with Spencer's soft moans and the quiet rustle of the sheets beneath him. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his abdomen as he tried to steady his breathing, the quiet hitch in his breath every time you shifted, adjusted your grip, or took him deeper.

His taste lingered on your tongue as you bobbed your head along his shaft. The feeling of his smooth, taught skin between your lips only caused the mess between your thighs to grow. You were soaking wet at the sight of the man who so confidently took you apart, writhing at the feeling of your mouth on him. 

Spencer's hands found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to hold onto the last ounce of his control. His touch was gentle but insistent, a silent plea for you to continue, to explore every inch of him until he was lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you were so skillfully creating.

As you continued your ministrations, you couldn't help but revel in the power you held over him, the way you could make his body respond to your every touch, your every movement. It was intoxicating, the thrill of being the one to unravel him, to bring him to the edge and watch as he teetered there, a breathless, trembling mess beneath you.

The quiet, involuntary sounds that slipped past his lips were music to your ears, a symphony of pleasure and need that urged you on, pushing you to explore further, to discover every hidden reaction, every secret spot that made him gasp and moan.

Spencer's breathing grew more ragged, his chest heaving with each breath as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within him, a living thing that pulsed and throbbed in your mouth, begging for release.

With each pass of your mouth, each flick of your tongue, you felt him draw nearer to the brink, the pleasure building to a fever pitch that left you both trembling with need. You pulled up to his tip, sucking harshly and greedily taking down the precum you were rewarded. 

“Fuck, fuck, Y/N. You have to pull off, I’m gonna—”

Finally, as you felt him begin to unravel beneath you, his grip on your hair tightening, you knew he was on the verge of release. The realization sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, a sense of accomplishment at having brought him to this point, this state of utter abandon.

But, you pulled off, just as he asked.

His eyes fluttered open, glazed with desire, and a mixture of relief and frustration washed over his features. The air between you was charged with electricity, thick as you gazed up at him, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Thank you,” he breathed, his voice a low, rough whisper filled with gratitude and a hint of desperation. His hands remained in your hair, holding you there as if afraid you might disappear, the heat of his skin still pulsing beneath your touch.

You sat back on your heels, his hands falling, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you surveyed the man before you. Spencer lay sprawled across the bed, a beautiful mess of tousled hair, flushed skin, and a very hard cock leaning on his tummy.

“Didn’t want to spoil the fun too soon?” you teased, your voice sultry and full of promise.

Spencer let out a breathless laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement and unabashed desire. “I didn’t expect you to be so... good at this,” he admitted, his voice still tinged with awe as he watched you with a newfound appreciation.

“Surprised?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached out to trail your fingers lazily along his thigh, feeling the residual tremor of his muscles beneath your touch.

“Pleasantly,” he replied, his voice rich with honesty as he met your gaze, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

“Well, the night’s not over yet,” you said, your tone full of suggestion as you shifted your position, moving with a deliberate slowness that kept Spencer’s gaze locked onto you. The dim lighting cast a warm, intimate glow over your skin, highlighting every curve and angle as you made your intentions clear.

Spencer watched you, his eyes darkening as he realized what you were doing. You were presenting yourself to him, offering yourself. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through his already overwrought senses.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, a sensual dance that had Spencer transfixed, his breath catching in his throat as he watched you. You turned slightly, your back arching gracefully, presenting your body to him in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted. The smoothness of your skin and the glistening of your core caught the light, every curve accentuated by the shadows, and Spencer couldn't help but let his gaze travel over you, taking in every detail, every nuance.

“You like what you see, Doctor?” you teased with a shake of your hips, your voice a sultry purr that sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. 

His response was a low, almost guttural sound that spoke volumes, a wordless expression of the desire that burned so brightly within him. He shifted slightly, his body tense as his hands reached out as if drawn to you by an invisible force.

“I like it very much,” he murmured, his voice a husky blend of awe and hunger as he drank in the sight of you. The way you held yourself, the confidence in your gaze, the promise of what was to come—it was all intoxicating, drawing him in and leaving him utterly captivated.

Spencer moved closer, the soft rustle of the sheets beneath him a quiet accompaniment to the sounds and sensations of desire that filled the room. Your skin was warm under Spencer’s touch as his hands found their way to your hips, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that left you both breathless.

The feeling of his hands on you was electric, a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency that made your heart race and your senses sing. Every touch, every caress, sent shivers of pleasure racing through your body, leaving you aching for more, your skin hypersensitive to every nuance of his touch.

Spencer’s hands traveled with a gentle insistence, mapping the contours of your body with a touch that was both reverent and possessive. You could feel the subtle tremor in his fingers, the heat of his palms as they pressed against your ass.

His breath was warm against your ear, his voice a low murmur as he whispered, “You’re so sexy.” The words sent a thrill through you, a spark that ignited a fire in your belly and left you yearning for more of his touch, more of the sensations that seemed to flood your senses with every passing moment.

You turned your head slightly, your lips finding his in a kiss that was equal parts tenderness and demand. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of warmth and spice that made your heart race and your senses reel.

Spencer pulled away, and you felt the bed shift as he repositioned himself behind you. The room was filled with a quiet hum of anticipation, the air thick with the charged tension between you. You could feel his gaze on you, a tangible heat that seemed to sear into your skin.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice a low, rumbling purr that sent a shiver down your spine. There was an earnestness in his question, a genuine desire to ensure that you were comfortable and ready.

“Positive, Doctor,” you replied, the words laced with playful confidence as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his gaze. The term of endearment had become a safeguard to you, not wanting to get too used to saying his name.

Spencer’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm and relief, a small, appreciative smile tugging at his lips. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, his tone laced with a hint of embarrassment as he admitted his unpreparedness.

“You don’t?” you teased, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. It was a playful jab, meant to lighten the mood and add a touch of humor to the charged atmosphere.

“I didn’t expect this to happen…” Spencer admitted, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson as he chuckled awkwardly. 

“That’s really sweet, actually,” you replied, your voice softening as you took in the sight of him. The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, a reminder of why you had been drawn to him in the first place. “Yes, I do,” you confirmed, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “Let me up real quick.”

Spencer playfully groaned, a sound filled with exaggerated reluctance as he shifted to give you space. But before you could move, he leaned down, leaving a small, teasing bite on your asscheek—a cheeky gesture that sent a spark of pleasure through you.

“Down, boy!” you teased, your voice a mock admonishment as you slipped out of his grasp, your feet finding the floor with a soft thud. You cast a playful glance back at him, enjoying the sight of him sprawled on the bed, watching you while he pulled on his own cock.

As you turned back to the bed, condom in hand, you found Spencer watching you with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—was both thrilling and humbling.

“Got it,” you announced, your voice a playful sing-song as you waved the packet in the air. Spencer’s eyes lit up with amusement, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he watched you return to the bed.

You climbed back onto the mattress, feeling the familiar give of the sheets beneath your knees as you settled in beside him. The warmth of his body was a comforting presence, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room that brushed against your skin.

Spencer reached for you, his touch gentle and insistent as he guided you back into position. His hands were warm against your skin, the chemistry seemed to crackle between you.

Spencer tore open the foil packet, the soft crinkle of the wrapper a prelude to the main event. You could smell the faint scent of latex from the condom, mingling with the lingering aroma of his cologne—a spicy, woodsy scent that was undeniably masculine and entirely Spencer.

Spencer moved with a practiced ease, his fingers deft and sure as he prepared himself, rolling the condom down with a kind of confident precision that spoke of experience. The sight of him handling himself with such ease sent a thrill racing through you, your breath catching at the implication. It was a heady rush of desire that made your heart race and your skin flush with heat.

As he finished, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, a smoldering intensity burning within them that made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, a touch that was as intimate as any caress. You could feel the desire radiating off of him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. His tone was full of promise, a dark velvet sound that wrapped around you like a warm embrace, holding you captive in its depths.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word barely a whisper as it slipped from your lips, heavy with need. Your body ached for his touch, every fiber of your being attuned to the promise of pleasure that awaited you.

Spencer leaned forward, his hands finding your hips with a surety that left you breathless. His touch was firm and possessive, a silent promise of the pleasure he intended to deliver. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, a delicious contrast to the cool air that still lingered around you.

His lips brushed against your ear, a featherlight touch that sent a thrill racing through you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I bet you feel as good as you taste,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. The confession was both intimate and incendiary, stoking the flames of your arousal until you were burning for him.

“Shit,” you whispered back, a high pitched sound that left your lips before you could think better of it. Spencer responded with a quiet, breathy chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands tightened on your hips, the pressure of his fingers was grounding.

He positioned himself at your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt through your body. The tip of him brushed against your core, a featherlight touch that made your breath catch and your heart race. 

Slowly, carefully, he began to push forward, the pressure building with each inch as he entered you. The feeling was exquisite, a slow, delicious burn that stretched you around him, filling you completely. The friction was intoxicating, a perfect balance of pleasure and pressure that had you gasping for breath.

Spencer let out a low, shuddering moan as he sank into you, his fingers digging into your hips with a possessive urgency that left you breathless. The sound was raw and primal, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through him, mirrored in the sensations that raced through your own body.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared breaths, a quiet combination of gasps and moans that mingled with the rustle of the sheets beneath you. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix making you hyper aware of every touch, every sensation.

As he began to move, Spencer set a steady, deliberate pace that left you reeling with sensation. Each thrust was a measured blend of power and precision, a rhythm that built slowly, methodically, until it had you teetering on the edge of control.

“You feel so fucking good,” Spencer breathed, his voice a low, gravelly growl that sent a thrill racing through you. 

“So big,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to find words in the midst of the overwhelming sensations that flooded your senses. The feel of him moving inside you, the way he filled you completely, was a pleasure that bordered on overwhelming, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

Spencer’s hands moved with a purpose, tracing the curves of your body as he drove you higher, his touch both grounding and incendiary. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way his muscles flexed with each movement, feeling the strength and control he wielded.

His lips found your neck, trailing a line of heated kisses along the sensitive skin that sent shivers down your spine. The feel of his mouth against your skin was electric, a tantalizing mix of heat and teeth that left you gasping for breath, your body arching into his touch.

The sensation of his body moving against yours, the delicious friction as he drove deeper, harder, was a pleasure that threatened to unravel you completely. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy radiating through you.

“Spencer,” you gasped, the word slipping past your lips as a breathless plea, a desperate cry for more.

His response was immediate, his pace quickening as he drove into you, each movement a perfect blend of power and precision that left you on the brink of release. His hands tightened on your hips, his grip firm and possessive as he pulled you back to meet each of his thrusts. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious friction that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You could feel the strength in his fingers, the way they dug into your flesh with each powerful motion, grounding you even as you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. The heat of his hands against your skin was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, adding another layer of sensation to the already heady mix.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of wet, rhythmic slaps and breathless gasps that only heightened your arousal. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure rippling through you, building in intensity with every movement until you were teetering on the edge of control.

Spencer’s breath was hot against your ear, each exhale a ragged sigh that sent shivers down your spine. “How are you still so tight?” he groaned, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that resonated through your entire body. The words were a potent mix of praise and desire, pushing you even closer to the brink.

Your own breath came in short, ragged gasps, each inhale a struggle as you fought to hold on to your control. “Spencer,” you moaned, your body aching for release.

His response was a deep, primal growl that vibrated through his chest and into your back, his hips snapping forward with a renewed intensity that left you breathless. His hands guided your movements, pulling you back to meet each thrust with a force that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

The pressure within you built to a fever pitch, a tight coil that wound tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensations, the feel of him driving into you, the sound of his voice in your ear, the taste of salt on your lips as you bit down, trying to hold on just a little longer.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his voice a rough, desperate sound that sent a thrill racing through you. “I’m so close.”

The admission was your undoing. The coil within you snapped, sending a wave of blinding ecstasy crashing over you. Your body tensed, every muscle tightening as you cried out, the sound raw and unrestrained as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure.

Spencer continued to move, driving you through the waves of your release with a steady, relentless rhythm that left you trembling and gasping for breath. The feeling of him moving inside you, filling you completely, was a pleasure that bordered on overwhelming, each thrust sending new ripples of sensation through your already oversensitive body.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, Spencer’s pace grew more erratic, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. You could feel the strain in his muscles, the way his fingers dug into your hips with a new urgency.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice a soft, breathless plea as you turned your head to catch his gaze. The look in his eyes was a perfect reflection of the intensity you felt, raw desire and desperate need that sent another wave of heat through you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Spencer buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he reached his own release. The sound of his pleasure—a low, guttural groan—sent a shiver of satisfaction through you.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of your mingled breaths, a soft, rhythmic counterpoint to the fading echoes of your shared passion. Spencer’s grip on your hips softened, his touch becoming a gentle caress as he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice a soft, reverent murmur that sent a final shiver of pleasure through you. 

You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you caught your breath. “So are you, Doctor.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with affection and lingering desire as he gently helped you shift to a more comfortable position. The warmth of his body against yours was soothing, a perfect counterpoint to the lingering heat of your shared passion. You nestled into his embrace, feeling a sense of peace and contentment settle over you as you allowed yourself to relax in his arms.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the comforting weight of his presence, lulled you into a state of drowsy contentment. You felt safe and secure in his arms, the events of the night playing through your mind in a haze of satisfaction and warmth.

Slowly, the pull of sleep became too strong to resist, and you allowed yourself to drift off, cocooned in the comforting embrace of the man who had brought you such intense pleasure. The last thing you remembered before slipping into the depths of slumber was the gentle press of Spencer's lips against your forehead, a tender kiss that spoke volumes.

—

Morning came all too soon, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains and casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke slowly, the memories of the night before still vivid in your mind as you lay in the warmth of Spencer's embrace. For a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the feeling, the sense of belonging that came from being wrapped in his arms.

But reality soon intruded, and you knew that you couldn't stay. With a quiet sigh, you carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, moving with practiced ease to avoid waking him. Spencer's face was peaceful in sleep, a small smile playing on his lips that made your heart ache with affection and regret.

You knew he’d be confused when he woke up in your apartment alone. The realization that you had made a mistake by bringing him here weighed heavily on you. You quickly dressed, the rustle of your clothes sounding loud in the otherwise silent room. Every movement felt like a betrayal, a departure from the intimacy you had shared just hours before.

Grabbing a sticky note pad and a pen from your desk, your mind raced as you tried to think of what to write. The pen felt heavy in your hand, the blank surface of the note a stark reminder of the conversation you couldn't have face to face.

Spencer, you wrote, your handwriting shaky and rushed, Thank you for last night. There’s a key under the mat, please lock the door on your way out. Take care.

You placed the note where he would see it, the yellow square stark against the dark wood of your dresser. You stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of him one last time, memorizing the peaceful curve of his lips, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

With a heavy heart, you turned and quietly left the room. You headed for a friend's house, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. You needed to stay busy, to distract yourself until you were sure Spencer had left your apartment. As you knocked on the door, you resolved to cherish the memory of the night you had shared with Spencer, even as you moved forward with your life.

—

It had been a month since Spencer's encounter with you. At first, he was extremely confused and hurt, thinking there was a real spark between the two of you. Upon leaving your apartment that morning, he realized he never got your last name or your phone number. He didn't even know your address properly. Technically, he could figure it out quite easily, but he knew if you wanted him to talk to you again, you would have stayed.

For about two weeks, he thought about you every day and night, replaying the moments you shared and trying to understand what went wrong. Initially, he was sad, then worried something might have happened, and finally, he became livid at the thought that you might have used him. But now, it had been a month, and he had resigned himself to forget you and move on with his life.

Back to regular life, Spencer walked into the bullpen, immediately sensing something unusual. Everyone was not-so-subtly glancing toward Hotch’s office, their expressions twisted with curiosity and surprise.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“There’s a woman in Hotch’s office,” Emily replied, her eyes flicking toward the closed door.

“Okay?” Spencer prompted, waiting for more context.

“She knew my name, man,” Derek added, sounding both impressed and slightly confused.

“Uh oh, did you forget one of your many lovers?” Spencer joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not cool, kid. I’d remember a pretty face like hers,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“How else would she know you?” Emily asked, her curiosity mirroring Spencer’s.

Just then, the door to Hotch’s office opened, and you stepped out, accompanied by Aaron. “Guys, this is Agent Y/N Y/L,” Hotch said, introducing you to the team. “She will be joining us while JJ is on maternity leave.”

Spencer’s heart stopped as he saw you. He felt all the blood drain from his face, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. There you were, the woman who had loved him and then left him without a trace, now standing in front of him in the bullpen.

You seemed calm and composed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside Spencer. You gave a polite smile and nodded at the team, your eyes briefly locking with Spencer’s before moving on, not recognizing him immediately, or not caring.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said, your voice steady and professional. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

The rest of the team greeted you warmly, exchanging pleasantries, while Spencer remained rooted to his spot, his mind racing. Finally, your eyes fell on him and really looked.

“Hi, Doctor,” you said calmly, your voice steady and composed.

“Y/N,” he replied, his tone clipped and strained.

“Hold up, do you two know each other?” Derek asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I remember you!” Penelope cut in, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “You were at the Doctor Who convention! Madame de Pompadour! You looked beautiful.”

“Thank you!” you responded with a warm smile. “I don’t recall meeting you, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, we didn’t meet, sweetie,” Penelope giggled kindly. “I saw you talking to Reid here.”

“Ah,” you said, a hint of realization dawning in your eyes as you glanced back at Spencer.

The strain between you and Spencer was tangible, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Spencer’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to process the fact that you were now standing in front of him, a part of his professional life.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Emily asked, her eyes darting between the two of you.

“We… met at the convention,” Spencer said, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“Yes, we did,” you confirmed, keeping your tone neutral. “It was a brief encounter.”

Spencer's jaw tightened at your choice of words, the hurt and confusion from a month ago resurfacing with a vengeance. He knew he had to keep it together, at least for now, but the unresolved feelings were making it difficult.

“Small world, huh?” Derek said with a chuckle, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension.

“Indeed,” you replied, your eyes flicking back to Spencer. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”

Spencer nodded stiffly, his mind still racing with questions and emotions. He knew he needed to talk to you, to get some answers, but now wasn’t the time. He would have to wait for a more private moment to confront you about what had happened.

For now, he had to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside his personal turmoil to maintain his professionalism. But as he watched you interact with the rest of the team, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

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

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[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 4.8k words

fic masterlist previous part pt four next part

violence + mentions of blood and injuries (this is quite visual ha); angry + kinda ‘blood lust’ miguel; someone gets electrocuted, reader kinda does (small amount—I’ll be honest I don’t know how getting electrocuted exactly works, so for the purpose of the story ignore if the way it happens isn’t realistic, thank you!) — when you’re left alone in the tech room, many spiders out on missions, something unexpected happens. when miguel finds out his face falls and his claws twitch in anger. after the incident, you find miguel walking down the hall, calling to him he asks you questions, and you offer your help with something.

It was silent. For what felt like too long. Besides the tap of your fingers on the keyboard—which had begun to slow.

Usually you’d hear distant conversations or the sound of web shooting, but instead only silence greeted you. Unease began to make your body turn, your chair spinning with you.

You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid. You were alone in the office. Which wasn’t anything strange, but it meant that your growing paranoia festered a little stronger.

You edged closer to the door, finally hearing what sounds to be rumbling. Low and too vague for you to decipher. Your hand reaches out to the door handle, but just as your fingers brush the smooth metal, you’re forced back.

Your body flies, coming to a bruising hit on your hip, making you hiss in pain. But you’re quick to get up, rushing to a clear wall, and away from the explosion. You breathe heavy as you slump against it, your ears slightly ringing, while your gaze stays blurry against the random scraps of metal and dust.

You look to the communal intercom, quickly rushing towards it. Someone or something that isn’t supposed to be here is. You have to warn the spider-people who are out on missions.

But where are the others?

Just as you reach the com, the sound of quick scuffling boots can be heard to your left. You snatch up the intercom, slipping under your desk, tucking your feet into the dark just as multiple pairs of unwelcome boots come into view.

Your shrink further into yourself. You couldn’t speak in warning to the spider variants or these guys would hear you. Your eyes narrow on the bottom of their legs. All black, but so far appearing humanised rather then some large monster. An anomaly?—you think to yourself—multiple?

You clutch the intercom mic tighter, your finger grazing the on button. And that’s when they begin to speak.

“Get the tech.” A gruff voice says. “Now! We can’t waste our time!”

You can hear more scuffling of boots as the sound of unplugging, or more so ripping follows.

“Boss, they’ll be back.” One of them said. You try to get a good look at them, but your movements will cause too much attention, so you grind your teeth and listen harder.

“If you pick up that damn monitor we might have a chance to get out quick enough.” What you assume to be the gruff voice of ‘boss’ says.

“Who even made you in charge?” One grumbles out.

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Not all of them, though.” One adds. You try again to peak out. You manage to scale the bodies of three, all in black, with…masks. Damn it. They looked worn out—handmade.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.” Boss agitatedly says.

And as if luck is still on your back-burner, your foot slips, only a fraction, but enough to knock a piece of stray metal across the floor.

“What was that?” One of the masked men asks.

The silence now following sounds threatening. You place your hand over your mouth, to quieten your breathing, as the scuffs of boots draws closer.

;;

“Ben!” Exclaimed Miguel, just as static breaks through his ear. He hisses, not expecting it, as he holds the earpiece, brows furrowed. Then the static grows clearer.

“Get the tech. Now! We can’t waste our time!”

“Boss, they’ll be back.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as he listens, confused at first. When he looks to the other spider-people they’re are all holding their own earpieces, trying to comprehend what they’re listening to.

“Who even made you in charge?”

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Lyla, what is this?” Miguel asks. She appears by him, tapping away at screens.

“It appears to be coming from a communal intercom.” She says.

“At HQ?” He asks, already flexing his claws. “Which one.”

“I’m just finding out. The connection is muffled.” More tapping.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.”

The voices still infiltrate Miguel’s ear. “Lyla.” He sounds impatient. “Which one?”

Then she stops tapping. “Y/n y/l/n’s.”

Miguel freezes, looking at Lyla as if she would be one to crack a joke. Then he hears the knock of something metal through his ear piece, followed by a ‘“What was that?”’. He can now hear your heavy breathes, slightly muffled, as heavy boots hit the floor.

Then all sound is gone.

He doesn’t wait for anyone, pressing his wristband to open the portal to HQ. But Jess stops him. “Miguel, think about this. What if it’s them?”

Miguel glances at her, shrugging her grip off his arm, as he taps at his wristband again, the portal opening up. His expression is downcast, one could easily say terrifying.

“Miguel! You have to think this through.” Jess persists. “We have spider-men and woman back at HQ—”

“Who are clearly too distracted to do anything.” Miguel grunts out, webbing towards the portal. But Ben intercepts this time.

“She’s right, Miguel. Don’t worry about the tech, we can get it back, or even get new ones—“

“The tech?” Miguel actually sounds in disbelief. “You think I’m fucking worried about the tech?!” His red eyes gleam, and Ben gulps.

“Then what are you worried about, Miguel?” Jess asks, exasperated. “Because I don’t see anything else that needs urgent attention. The tech is the main—“

“¿Tú no? The tech is the last of my worries, Jess.” Miguel interrupts. But this time he isn’t yelling. This time it’s toned down, and somehow that makes him appear much, much scarier.

“Miguel.” Jess tries to calm him down, not understanding what he could find more worrying. Data had been saved on that tech, important data. She places one hand on his wrist, but he immediately shrugs her off, glaring.

“Get out of my way.” He snarls. She doesn’t move, crossing her arms. “The reason why you aren’t hurt against that wall is because you earned my respect. That’s slipping, Jess.”

“Miguel you’re frantic.” She says.

“Call it what you want. I’m getting to HQ.” He webs past her, and Jess finally has the mind to let him go. Though she still stands there worried, and confused about what could have made Miguel so urgent to get to the scene.

;;

You tighten your hold on the intercom, now switching to use it as a possible weapon, as the boots near. You prepare yourself by silent deep breaths and a focused gaze.

The boots stop in front of you, pausing for only a moment. Then the desk is being flung to the side. You choke a gasp, managing to slam the intercom down into the guys shin, the harsh metal side bruising and buckling his leg.

He exclaims in pain as you scramble to your feet. You can finally see the detail on the three mens’ outfits. A dark green weaved into the fabric. Then you see the claws for hands, and all three of their masks turned to you. Shit.

“Who are you guys?” You manage to get out, as you reach behind you for a keyboard.

One looks at the other before looking back at you. “Were you here the whole time?”

You say nothing, edging closer to the exit. It’s silent from them for a moment then “…kill her.” The gruff voice of ‘boss’ says. And they’re quick.

You try to rush away but one yanks you back by your hair. You angrily swing around and knock the metal keyboard across one of their heads. Some of the pieces shatter against his mask.

But then one is grabbing your neck, pushing you against the wall. “Sorry—boss says no tattle tales.” The guy tightens his hold, and your hands scramble against his in an effort to intake air.

There’s a moment where your vision blurs. But there’s also a moment where his knee shifts letting your leg harshly kick out. You’re glad to find him humanised in his pants as he doubles over.

You rush away from the wall, heaving. One of the masked men is already trying to grab you and as his clawed hand wraps around your arm, he’s pulled back, a shining orange web yanking him straight into a monitor, his head smashing against glass.

The speed makes his claws cut across your flesh but your adrenaline is far too prominent for you to care. You notice the other guy stalking towards you, making you swiftly gaze around at your environment, Weapon. Weapon. Weapon. You stop on a machine, wires poking out, sparking with electricity. Holding a certain point you pull two out, ripping the electric wires, before stabbing them into his stomach, the electric current making his body shake and twitch.

You soon have to let go as they grow unbearably hot, leaving scolding burns on your fingertips and palms. That’s when you notice the owner of the orange web. Miguel has ruined the guy he originally threw into a monitor, his body now a bloody pulp.

You have to quickly look away to the second guy who had obviously gotten up from your kick and landed straight into Miguel’s palm. Miguel is retracting his claws from the masked man’s body, blood tainting the tips of his fingers, as he breaths harshly but somehow still controlled.

Miguel looks to the guy knocked out in front of you, still occasionally twitching from the strong current of electricity. You feel light headed, placing your hands on your knees as you try to slow your breathing.

But then you feel a hand. And not a friendly one as the masked man passes on some of the electricity moving through his body into your thigh. You scream, the half electrocuted guy—his hair frizzed and slightly cinched—stumbling to a stance, just as you fall to the floor.

Then you hear a crash and a curdling scream—not from you.

Miguel inserts his claws into the guys neck, practically ripping his throat out, as the guy chokes on his own blood. The blood sprays across Miguel’s face, leaving slight speckles as he rips the rest of the man with his teeth, letting him drop to the floor.

It was animalistic in way, as his tongue licked his fangs, his breathing now harsher—angrier.

But then he sees you drifting from consciousness on the floor.

Miguel doesn’t know what breathing is, or the meaning of the word slow, as he reaches your side in a millisecond, his hand coming to grab your face between his fingers—maybe a little harshly but his entire being was still on overdrive.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks as he slightly shakes your head. “Y/l/n.” He hisses. “Wake up.“

He’s gentle now, realising that you’re a human and not some villain he needs to hurt, as he checks your pulse not wanting his claws to cut you. “Y/n!” He finally exclaims, as you get roused awake.

Your leg feels painfully numb, as your eyes flutter open. A thin layer of tears is making your eyes sparkle as you finally meet Miguel’s gaze. You try to slow your breathing, shutting your eyes to reassess.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks. “No, no. Open them.”

You do, though they stay hooded. “I’m just…tired. No need to sound so harsh—shit.” The lasting electricity still spasms up your leg, as the hold of Miguel’s hand makes the tears fall.

You begin to shake your head, partially trying to get out of his hold. “Stop.” You say.

“Stop what?” Miguel instantly replies, his gaze shooting to your thigh.

“Just—“ you breathe. Then Miguel finds the deep scratch mark on your arm, his hand grabbing it as his eyes dart. “It’s fine. Just a cut.”

“Y/n, you just got attacked. You’re a weak human, don’t try to sound so tough.”

“You’re not helping.” You hiss, tilting your head back as you try to keep the tears in, not wanting them to fall. “And that was kind of mean.” You mutter the last part just for the sake of it. Using your pain induced state as an excuse to blurt out your annoyed feelings with Miguel.

Miguel grabs your chin, trying to pull your gaze back to his, but you resist, keeping it tilted away. “Stop.” You say again.

“No.” He answers, successfully pulling your chin back, and holding it there. “Why aren’t you looking me?”

Your eyes are darting around, before you choose to close them. “Y/n.” Miguel is stern, but underlying that he sounds almost desperate—almost.

You can feel him move closer to you and you place your hand out to stop him, your palm ending up against his chest. “Can you not—“

“What—not help you?” He asks harshly.

“Can you look away.” You say, finally opening your eyes. “Please.”

“Why?” Miguel isn’t budging, staying close to you. He’s already dialled in medical on his wristwatch.

“Jeezus Christ, Miguel! I don’t like fucking crying in front of people. It’s a weird thing I can’t get rid of. I hate it. It makes me feel embarrassed—“

“Embarrassed?” Miguel interrupts.

“Yes. Embarrassed.” You hiss harshly. You couldn’t find your filter, your tone far more aggressive then usual with the throbbing pain in your arm and the spasm of your thigh.

“Well, that stupid.” He says.

“Yeah, it is. But it’s not going away. So if you could just look away and let me…I dunno…recompose myself.”

“Recompose yourself?”

“Yes! Stop repeating what I’m saying!” You exclaim, only to follow with a groan of pain as you try to sit up.

Miguel knows your mind is frazzled and your body is reactive. He pushes you back down, grabbing your cheeks again.

“You got partially electrocuted and cut—deep, I’d think you’re a psychopath If you didn’t cry.” Miguel says, his volume dropped to one almost soothing—almost.

“Doesn’t make me hate it any less.” You mutter.

“Wow…I’ve never seen you this annoyed before.”

You narrow your eyes on him. His hand that was gingerly inspecting your thigh had slipped over your waist, partially caging you in.

You try again to sit up. But Miguel yet again, keeps you pressed to the floor. “O’hara.”

He leans closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “Stop moving.”

“I’m fine.”

“No your not.” He easily answers, which earns him a half hearted scoff. “You know I think I prefer you trying to suck up instead.”

You meet his gaze glaring. “I have not been sucking up, I just like—“

“This job. Yeah I’ve heard you.” He interrupts.

He can hear commotion behind him, but the voices of rushing spider-people makes his shoulders relax. The medical have arrived, and as you notice the new people you quickly wipe your cheeks, brushing against Miguel’s hand, as you get up.

Miguel finally let’s you, by slipping his arm around the back of your waist. You try to swat it away—any physical touch usually induces the waterworks you desperately wanted to keep at bay—but he tightens his hold, resulting in your side being flush against him.

The medical spiders inspect your bruised body. “It’s her thigh and upper arm…” Miguel begins telling the spiders. Then he grabs your hands holding your palms out. “And hands.” The burnt marks look raw, and you hiss as Miguel had to slightly stretch the skin to show.

He immediately lets go upon hearing the sound of pain. “Thanks Miguel, we’ll take it from here.” A medical spider says, already at your side checking your cut.

Miguel narrows his eyes on the spider variant, watching as you bite your lip as they inspect your wound. He sighs, finally getting up and letting your waist go. At the sudden shift your hand flies out to his leg, or more specifically his thigh.

Your quick, tight grip has Miguel stopping. You change your position, not having realised how much you were using Miguel as physical support, before you’re quickly taking your hand away and coughing.

You give him a brief nod. “Thanks for the help.”

Miguel scoffs. “Help? I did a bit more than help.”

You’re praying to get some anaesthetic soon so that your pain won’t make you loose your job. You press your lips together harshly. “Of course. You did spectacular.” You say.

The sarcasm isn’t lost on him. He eyes you once more before he’s walking out the exit.

You sat there, finally taking a proper breath. You don’t know why you were holding it for so long. …maybe you did have a clue. The image of Miguel ripping the guys neck out, blood staining his face is still fresh in your mind.

You’ll be honest, it scared you. He kind of scared you. But not in way you’d think he’d hurt you, just one that made him seem unpredictable. I mean what happened just then, with his touching and softer tone was something completely unforeseen.

If someone told you he would be do that today you’d actually laugh. Miguel was unpredictable and intimidating in general, sure, but what seemed to scare you more was the way he looked when his eyes shone with blood lust. His eye colour seemed fitting now.

You also happened to be scared of the way the sight made you feel. Something that settled far too low in your stomach.

;;

Miguel went straight to the lobby where a spider variant he kept high up in the ranks resided. “You. Get up. Now.”

The spider variant immediately stood, as he nervously followed Miguel to his office. The orange tech screens were the main thing lighting the place.

And as Spider-Man took a breath he lost it as soon as Miguel slowly turned to him. Blood still stained his skin and claws and suit, and the spider-man felt the urge to run.

“Where were you today?” Miguel asked, leaning back against a table and crossing his arms almost too casually.

“I was…here, Miguel.” He said steeling his spine. He knew where this was going.

“Were you?” Miguel asked, his eyes trained on the spider.

Spider man gulped. “I’m really sorry, Miguel. I didn’t hear any sort of explosion. I didn’t get any awareness. Which…shouldn’t happen.”

“You know what ‘shouldn’t happen’?” Miguel asks, now twirling an empty glass on the table. “Spider men and woman shouldn’t only rely on that “tingle thing”.”

The spider hangs his head lower in apology. “Someone could have died today.” Miguel continued. “And you would have what—been too busy playing poker?”

The spider variant winces at his words. Miguel knew of his addiction, always using his free time to gamble.

“Do you get that?” Miguel asks.

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Sadly that’s not gonna cut it.” Miguel says, making spider man look up. “I left you in charge while I was gone. You failed miserably.”

“Miguel. I didn’t mean to only rely on my usual awareness, it’s a force of habit. That’s never happened before. I can always sense when danger is close.”

“But you didn’t.” Miguel says. “There’s someone in medical right now who got injured—badly. And she was all alone.” Miguel has stood up, stalking towards him.

“Now for personal reasons I may find her annoying.” He quickly mutters out. “But that certainly doesn’t mean you can let her die. Do you hear me?”

Spider man quickly nods. “Of course. This’ll never happen again.”

“No it won’t.” Miguel turns away, and the finality in his voice makes spider man’s eyes widen.

“Miguel—“

“Go home.” Miguel cuts in, stepping up to his screens. Anger still seeped from every pore.

;;

You woke up, feeling a dull ache in your body, but for the most part you felt alright. Better, a lot better. You swing your feet off the medical bed, realising that the lights were out.

Your feet hit the cold floor, before you quietly step towards the exit door.

Making it out to the hallway you were grateful you were already on the high level, no need for a long travel up the stairs.

You needed to rest. Alone. Not surrounded my medical items. You slowly headed to your room, but stop upon seeing a familiar body walking away.

“O’hara.” You say, making the figure freeze.

You quicken your steps, reaching him. He turns and you have to stop the intake of breathe at the reminded visual of the now dried blood.

“You didn’t want a shower?” You joked, forcing a chuckle.

Miguel just scans your body, narrowing his eyes, his expression is it’s typical, solemn and moody. “You should get back to bed.”

“I was actually heading to my room. But I just wanted to…thank you.” You say, finally making Miguel meet your gaze.

“You really did help me back there.” You spare him a small smile and a nod. Then your gaze gets caught back up in the blood stains, as you gulp.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Miguel suddenly asks.

You look up. “Mm?”

“The reason I’m covered in blood.”

“Oh.” You say. “It was…quite impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” Miguel says making your brows furrow. He steps a fraction closer. “You didn’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

Another step. “You thought I looked animalistic. Scary.”

You dart your gaze down to his slowly moving feet before quickly looking back up. You shake your head. And in return Miguel nods.

“You think I’m scary.” Everything he’s saying is statements. He knows, but you keep shaking your head.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie.” He says, much, much closer now. “You’re terrible at it.”

You stop the shake of your head, blinking a few times. “O’hara—“

“Just be honest.”

“I am.” You say, straightening your spine. And as your eyes dart you notice a deep cut running across his thigh. The dried blood, his.

You step closer. “Why didn’t you get that checked out?”

He glances down at his wound. “It’s fine.”

“Oh come on, don’t do that. Don’t act like your above it all, including pain, and infection.” Your blatancy makes Miguel raise a brow.

You pause for a moment, mulling over potential decisions in your head. Then before it could get later and before you could back down you speak. “Follow me. Let me help.”

Miguel stares at you. “It’s fine—“ he goes to monotonously repeat.

You just grab his wrist, pulling him towards your room. Miguel grabs your wrist in turn, preparing to pull your hand off.

“Hey. You made me go to your room, now I’m just returning the favour.” You say.

Miguel stares at you, scoffing. You let go of his wrist, knowing you don’t have the strength to pull him. “If you’re scared I don’t know what I’m doing, then know that I studied to be a nurse before I found out about…all this.”

“Why?” Miguel asks. “Why help?” He elaborates.

“I just told you.” You say, beginning to head to your room. “I feel weird if I’ve seen your room when you haven’t yet seen mine.”

“That’s not a good reason at all.”

“But your walking my way aren’t you?”

Miguel hadn’t realised that he’d moved to your door without the permission of his mind. He curses under his breath as your scent floods his senses, your room making it ten times worse. This is the last thing he needed.

But you’re already shutting the door and ushering him further in. “You can um…” you look around. “You can just sit on the bed.”

No—Miguel thought. God, no. But you were already getting out an older looking kit from under textbooks—your stuff having been brought to you from your universe.

He slowly sits, trying not to get one bit comfortable. You reach his side placing the kit on the bed, as you drop to your knees.

Miguel’s breathing stops at the visual. You’re directly by his thigh…kneeling. No, no.

Miguel clicks his jaw, looking away. He looks back down, to see your hand is midway from touching his cut thigh. “Why are you doing this?” He can’t fathom why you would actually want to help him.

You sigh. “I just feel kinda bad.”

“Bad?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“For any particular reason?” Miguel pushes.

“No.” You sarcastically scoff. “You’re just generally a person everyone feels bad for.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as you chuckle. He shifts on your bed. “Stop doing that.”

Your hand stops by his cut, thinking it’s the touching of his wound, when in actual fact it was the way your ‘chuckle’ had sent a strange vibration through him to somewhere he desperately didn’t want you to notice. He was right. This was a terrible idea.

Then you’re touching him. Delicate and gentle, as you pull away his ripped suit. You begin to dab what looks to be an alcohol cloth onto his wound, and in response Miguel snarls, his grip tightening around your sheets.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

“Dios.” He mutters, closing his eyes a moment. “Stop being nice.”

You look up at him. “I have to say, I’ve never heard someone say that. Usually it’s ‘stop being mean’.”

His face is tight as you continue to clean his cut. “Someone said that to you?”

You pause. “No actually. But I just mean in general. And I’m not being ‘nice’ to you. I’m returning a favour.”

“Ah.” He hums, before all his muscles tense. “Can you hurry up.”

“You’ve never let anyone touch you up before, have you?” Catching onto the fact that he’s clearly cleaned his past wounds himself.

Miguel glares at you. “So, you can stop.” He reaches to take the cloth from you, but you lean away resting your hand on his knee for support.

“You can just sit on the bed.” Miguel grits out. He couldn’t watch you being on your knees for him any longer. Not unless he’d do something he’d end up regretting.

“That’s okay, it’s an easier angle here.”

God. You had to stop. ‘Easier angel’? Yeah, Miguel definitely wasn’t thinking about you cleaning his cut. He runs his hand through his hair.

You quickly reach out grabbing his wrist. He looks at you, expectantly. “You have uh…blood on your fingertips…claws.”

Miguel darts his gaze across your face. “And you’re worried about it getting my…hair dirty?”

You shrug. “Well, now you’re making me sound stupid.”

“I don’t need to do that.” He quips, and you shoot him a glare. “But um…” he drifts off, as you look up at him, now waiting expectantly.

“Did you find me…scary, or whatever?” He asks, and surprisingly there’s a hint of…vulnerability hidden in his tone? No—you think to yourself—that can’t be right. “Before. With the anomalies.”

You dab a fraction harder, making Miguel hiss a groan. You ignore the way it vibrates through your body. You shake your head.

“Why do you keep lying?” He asks.

You sigh. “I just—“

“Just?” Miguel seemed to really want to get an answer out of you. He shifts closer. And when you don’t answer, continuing to focus on his wound, he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to meet his gaze. You gulp, his large hand nearly reaching to wrap around your neck.

“Do I scare you?”

Your chest picks up a quicker beat. He leans closer, pulling you towards him, your chest hitting his leg. “Do I—“

“Yes. Alright.” You quickly say. “A little bit…yes.”

His grip tightens around your chin a fraction. “Because of what you saw?”

“And the way you talk to people.” You mutter out. Why were saying this? This isn’t something you say to your boss.

You hadn’t noticed at first but one of his claws had begun to brush back and forth against the skin of your jaw, his eyes not leaving yours. You were utterly frozen. And there’s a moment that you just catch where his gaze darts down to your lips, his breath feeling extremely close.

But then he’s leaning away, his jaw clenching as he looks to the door. “Are you done?”

You quickly look down to his cut, rushing to get out a bandage. “Uh, almost.” Your entire body was buzzing.

While you stayed focused on finishing him up, Miguel’s gaze went back to staring at you. He almost gave in—almost. He wouldn’t, though.

You were scared of him. He knew you were somewhat so, but now hearing you say it confirmed that you’d never see him how he had gradually started seeing you. He had to stop. Now, before he dove in far too deep.

He couldn’t let himself go any deeper. Because at this rate he’d certainly drown, and if he was going to die, it wouldn’t be from some silly little crush.

okay, I’m sorry, I lied. there is nothing sexual in here. but I didn’t think adding anything like that yet would work. since a lot of you guys asked for a slow burn

again, I hope this is up to a good standard for you guys to continue reading. I wanted to add something a little different then the usual Spanish lesson then Miguel’s end of the deal. I needed some action of some sort.

and ofc, part five will come soon x love you all MWAH

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3

[gothicxreylover]

Can you please make a Yandere male (include females if you want) hashira hcs with a kakushi s/o that repairs their uniforms or clean up after their missions or deliver their swords when it's repaired. Please 🙏

𝕳𝔞𝖘𝔥𝖎𝔯𝖆’𝖘 𝖜𝔦𝖙𝔥 𝔞 𝔎𝖆𝔨𝖚𝔰𝖍𝔦 𝔖/𝔒

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

Warning this contains Unhealthily Dynamics, Gaslighting/Emotional manipulation, subtle threats of violence (implied), imbalance of power in relationships, silent threats/ Emotional intimidation, intense/over protective behaviors, jealousy and control, and possessive/ obsessive behavior

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

Giyu Tomioka - Water Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Unsettling Attention: Giyu is quiet and reserved, but when it comes to his Kakushi S/O, he’s very protective. He doesn't speak much, but his actions show an unhealthy possessiveness. He silently watches over them while they clean or repair his uniform, not even blinking when they touch his clothes. It’s almost as if he’s silently marking them as “his.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Silent Affection: He will only show affection in small, subtle ways, like standing in the doorway as his S/O repairs his sword or uniform. He watches them like a hawk, and if anyone gets too close, he has a tendency to linger, making his presence intimidating.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Keeping Them Close: Giyu might be a man of few words, but he’s the type to give a barely audible “thank you” after every task his S/O performs. If they’re delivering a repaired sword to him, he might hold their hand for just a little too long, giving them a hard stare as though telling them, “Don’t go anywhere.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Obsessive Protection: If he sees anyone even glance at his S/O, he gets cold and distant, staring them down until they look away. Giyu sees his S/O as someone he must protect, but not from just demons—he needs to shield them from other people, too. No one else should touch them or get too close.

Kanao Tsuyuri - Flower Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Gentle Yet Possessive: Kanao’s emotions can be a bit more restrained due to her upbringing, but when it comes to her S/O, she’s fiercely protective. If her S/O is fixing her uniform or delivering a repaired sword, she watches them with intense focus, feeling strangely possessive of them. She won’t speak unless spoken to, but her gaze is sharp and unwavering.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Small Gifts: After her S/O repairs her uniform or delivers her sword, she might leave them little gifts—flowers, a handmade token, or even a small note with cryptic but affectionate messages. She finds ways to express her affection in subtle, almost secretive ways.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Worrying Over Them: Whenever her S/O goes out to clean up after one of her missions or deliver something, she gets a sense of worry. She doesn’t express it vocally, but you’ll see her pacing, her hands twitching as if she’s resisting the urge to check up on them. She’ll try to act normal, but it’s clear she’s watching from a distance, ensuring that nothing happens to them.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Gentle Restraint: If someone gets too close to her S/O, Kanao’s demeanor will change. She won’t directly confront the person, but a cold, calculating aura will surround her. The person will often feel her presence lingering, warning them that they are trespassing into dangerous territory.

Shinobu Kocho - Insect Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Deceptively Sweet: Shinobu’s yandere tendencies are masked behind a calm, sweet demeanor. She’ll smile as her S/O repairs her uniform or delivers her sword, but there’s a glint of something darker in her eyes. She finds it adorable when they tend to her belongings—almost as if they’re her personal servant.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ "Grateful" Gestures: Shinobu is too thankful for the little things her S/O does, to the point where it might seem unsettling. After they deliver her sword, she may press a kiss on their cheek or hand, almost as if marking them as “hers.” She enjoys their attention and becomes very clingy once they show any care for her work.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Isolation: She'll often send her S/O out on "errands" or ask them to "stay close" while she's in the middle of something, like tending to patients or preparing poisons. She wants them by her side at all times, ensuring they aren't distracted by anyone else. The idea of her S/O helping other Hashira or speaking to anyone outside of her circle drives Shinobu crazy with jealousy.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Subtle Threats: If someone is too forward or too friendly with her S/O, Shinobu's kindness turns chilling. She'll smile and laugh, but her words will carry a sharp edge, warning the person to back off. “I’d hate for you to accidentally hurt yourself,” she’ll say with a soft giggle, before turning her attention back to her S/O, watching them with unnerving adoration.

Sanemi Shinazugawa - Wind Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Fury and Fear: Sanemi’s yandere tendencies are fueled by his intense anger and fear of losing those he cares about. If his S/O is cleaning up after his mission, repairing his torn uniform, or delivering a repaired sword, Sanemi will be constantly watching them with suspicion, almost as if he’s afraid someone will try to take them away from him.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Forceful Affection: He’s the type who will grab their wrist and pull them close after they’ve done something for him, practically forcing his affection onto them. There’s no subtlety in his displays of need for them; it’s all possessive, domineering gestures.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Unspoken Threats: If anyone else talks to or even looks at his S/O for too long, Sanemi will give them an icy glare. His words are harsh, but there’s a menacing undertone to them. “Stay away from them, you piece of shit. They’re mine,” he’ll mutter, and it’s clear that he will stop at nothing to keep his S/O close.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Extreme Protectiveness: After every mission, when his S/O tends to him, Sanemi becomes possessive to the point of paranoia. He'll try to keep them by his side at all times, and if they get too close to someone else (even in conversation), he’ll act out violently. He’ll hold their repaired sword with a vicious grip, ready to lash out at anyone who threatens his hold on them.

Mitsuri Kanroji - Love Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Affection Overload: Mitsuri is the embodiment of intense, overwhelming love. When her S/O repairs her torn uniform or delivers her sword after it’s been fixed, she showers them with excessive affection—hugs, kisses, and sweet words. She’s not afraid to show how much they mean to her, but the intensity can sometimes feel suffocating. She’ll follow them around with a huge smile, constantly telling them how much she loves them.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Clinginess: Mitsuri constantly wants to be near her S/O. She’ll hang around while they’re cleaning or repairing things, offering to help in any way she can—though her "help" often turns into her just watching them with a loving gaze. If they ever go off to do something for another Hashira, Mitsuri will insist on tagging along, afraid of losing them or someone else taking them away from her.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Jealousy: If anyone else seems to take interest in her S/O, even if it’s just friendly, Mitsuri’s mood shifts. She’ll become visibly upset, hanging onto her S/O even more tightly, almost as if she’s trying to "mark" them as her own. "You’re mine, right?" she’ll ask sweetly but with an edge, hoping they’ll reassure her.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Constant Praise: After any task they perform for her—whether it’s repairing her uniform, delivering a sword, or cleaning up after a mission—Mitsuri praises them constantly. “You’re the best! I love you so much! No one else could do what you do!” Her overwhelming compliments make it clear that, in her mind, her S/O is her perfect partner.

Obanai Iguro - Serpent Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Possessive and Silent: Obanai’s possessiveness is subtle but fierce. He doesn’t say much, but his eyes follow his S/O wherever they go, especially if they’re interacting with anything related to his mission—whether it’s repairing his uniform or delivering his sword. His snake, Kaburamaru, might also get in on the act, acting as a silent "guardian" over the S/O, watching them with a snake-like intensity.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Subtle Threats: Obanai doesn’t get angry easily, but his words are chilling. If he notices anyone else speaking to his S/O for too long, he might approach quietly, his voice cold and detached as he asks, "Is there a problem here?" His tone is polite but leaves no room for argument, and anyone who crosses him will feel his watchful gaze lingering long after the conversation ends.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Silent Affection: Obanai doesn’t express affection the same way others do. He’ll stand close to his S/O as they work on his uniform or sword, his presence almost suffocating in its quiet intensity. Sometimes, without warning, he’ll place his hand on theirs, gripping them gently but firmly. His actions are possessive, but in his own way, he’s showing his care.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Controlled Jealousy: If someone else does something for his S/O, like offering to clean up or fix their clothes, Obanai’s jealousy manifests in his unspoken silence. He’ll retreat, but his eyes will never leave the scene. It’s clear that Obanai believes his S/O should belong only to him, and he won’t tolerate anyone else intruding on his territory.

Tengen Uzui - Sound Hashira & His Wives (Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru)

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Overwhelming Attention: Tengen, as well as his wives, are incredibly attached to their S/O. When they’re cleaning up after missions, repairing Tengen’s uniforms, or delivering his sword, they’re the center of attention—not just from Tengen, but from the wives too. Tengen’s larger-than-life personality often leads to him teasing his S/O affectionately, while his wives compete for their attention.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Excessive Praise and Rewards: Tengen will often express his appreciation in extravagant ways, showering his S/O with praise and lavish gifts. "You’re amazing, darling! Look at you, taking care of my uniform like it’s nothing!" His wives, too, will join in on the compliments, sometimes playfully competing to see who can be the most "charming" or affectionate with the S/O.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Jealousy and Over-Protection: Despite their "open" relationship, Tengen and his wives become intensely protective when it comes to their S/O. If another Hashira or even a demon slayer speaks too closely to them, Tengen will immediately step in, making a loud, almost theatrical declaration of possession. "That’s my partner! Hands off!" The wives will back him up, making sure no one can get too close to their S/O.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Group Obsession: While Tengen might be the loudest, each of his wives has a unique bond with the S/O. Suma is clingy and emotional, constantly seeking affection, while Makio is a bit more competitive and will try to steal attention. Hinatsuru, the most grounded, might be more subtle but will ensure that the S/O is always near her and that Tengen's boundaries are respected. Together, they form an obsessive but strangely harmonious dynamic around their S/O.

Gyomei Himejima - Stone Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Gentle but Intense Protection: Gyomei’s yandere tendencies come from a place of extreme, almost paternal love and protection. His S/O may repair his uniform, clean up after missions, or deliver his sword to him, but he sees these actions as signs of loyalty and devotion. He becomes deeply attached and protective of them, always needing to ensure they’re safe and sound. He’ll often find himself watching over them as they work, his imposing figure looming over them but his voice soft and caring.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Silent Obsession: Gyomei doesn’t express his feelings through words often, but his gaze never leaves his S/O. When they do something for him, he might softly murmur, “Thank you… Please, take care of yourself.” He’s almost obsessive in his care, constantly worried about their well-being and ensuring that they’re always at his side.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Extreme Loyalty: If anyone else interacts with his S/O in a way that even remotely feels too friendly, Gyomei will subtly insert himself into the conversation, standing nearby and giving a quiet but intense stare. He doesn't like confrontation but will use his sheer size and strength to ensure his S/O is never out of his sight for long.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ A Quiet Love: Gyomei’s affection is shown in his care. He might not be as outwardly intense as others, but he’ll go out of his way to ensure that his S/O’s work is appreciated, whether it’s helping them with tasks or ensuring they’re well-rested after a long day. His love is possessive in that it never allows them to feel free from his watchful gaze.

Muichiro Tokito - Mist Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Detached Yet Obsessive: Muichiro’s yandere tendencies are often buried beneath his distracted, aloof personality. While he might not openly express affection, he becomes uncomfortably possessive when it comes to his S/O. When they repair his uniform or clean up after his mission, he watches them with a cold, unfocused gaze, not saying much but always keeping an eye on them.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Silent Possession: Muichiro doesn't speak much, but his actions make it clear that his S/O belongs to him. If they ever leave the room to deliver something for another Hashira or work on someone else’s gear, he’ll get agitated, standing up and silently following them to make sure no one else interacts with them. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him, but it does.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Staring and Silent Obsession: Muichiro will often stare at his S/O without realizing it, his eyes unfocused, lost in thought. When they do something for him, he’ll become fixated on them for a while, silently watching, occasionally muttering something to himself that’s difficult to understand. His obsession is quiet but undeniable.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Protective without Words: If anyone approaches his S/O too closely, Muichiro’s behavior shifts. He won’t confront them directly but will stand between them and his S/O, his gaze suddenly more intense, as though silently telling them to back off. His protection is indirect but undeniably possessive.

Rengoku Kyojuro (Flame Hashira)

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Obsessive Attention to DetailRengoku is fiercely possessive when it comes to how you care for his things. Every time you fix a tear in his uniform or clean his blade, he watches you with a sharp, unwavering gaze, as if observing every movement you make. He always comments on how well you do it, almost too much, as if praising your devotion serves to remind both of you that you belong to him. "Only you can handle my uniform with such care, my beloved. You're the only one who truly understands my needs."

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Constant Reassurance, Mixed with Subtle Possessiveness.When you deliver his repaired sword, Rengoku will always give you a warm, affectionate hug and a kiss on the forehead. But even in these sweet moments, there's an underlying intensity in his gaze. He’ll pull you close, quietly saying, “I need you to always take care of me like this. No one else can.” He’ll often insist on being the only one who can touch his sword or handle his belongings, and any suggestion that others could assist is met with a cold, possessive tone.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Quiet Jealousy, Overprotectiveness. Rengoku doesn't express jealousy in loud outbursts, but when you interact with others in the Corps—whether it's other Kakushi or even higher-ranked members—he’ll subtly insert himself into the conversation. He’s quick to wrap his arm around you or kiss your temple, making it known that you're his. "No one knows how to take care of my things like you do, love. They could never match your level of care." He always ensures that no one gets too close to you, and if anyone offers help, he quickly steps in to handle things himself, though always in a calm, collected manner.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Tangible Evidence of His Devotion.Rengoku’s love for you is intense, and he expresses it through both words and actions. He often gifts you small tokens—like a flame-shaped pendant or a piece of jewelry—reminders of your bond. But more than anything, he treasures your care for him. Every uniform you mend or sword you repair becomes a symbol of your loyalty, a silent pact between you two. If you ever suggest taking a break or focusing on something else, Rengoku will quickly remind you, “It’s because of your care that I’m strong. You are irreplaceable to me.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I hope you like it!

[naivegh0ul]

Ghost gives you a bracelet with a skull charm for your birthday. This cute little woven bracelet with a tiny, clearly handmade charm on it. The gift is so thoughtful you almost cried on the spot. Ghost thought he did something wrong or that you didn't like it when he saw you tearing up.

When you asked him to put it on for you, he teared up a little. He's not really a man who gives gifts as he never had anyone to give them to, so seeing you love his gift made him so happy. He gladly put it on for you, tightening it around your wrist so that it'd never fall off.

He lifted your hand up and kissed your wrist through his mask just for good luck, getting a little flustered under his mask as he did so. He's a sweetheart under his gruff exterior.

[estellan0vella]

Dating Them ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuta, Yuji, Megumi & Toge with special addition: Maki (REQUESTED) Masterlist

Satoru Gojo

Adventurous Dates: Gojo loves excitement and adventure, so expect dates filled with thrill-seeking activities like skydiving, bungee jumping, or exploring abandoned places. He'll always keep you on your toes.

Sense of Humor: Despite his serious demeanor in battle, Gojo has a playful and mischievous side, so be prepared for lots of witty banter and playful teasing during your dates. He'll keep you laughing all night long.

Spontaneity: Don't be surprised if Gojo suddenly whisks you away on a spontaneous road trip or decides to try out a new restaurant on a whim. He loves living in the moment and hates sticking to strict plans.

Confidence Booster: Gojo's confidence is infectious, and he'll always make you feel like the most important person in the room. He's not afraid to shower you with compliments and affection, boosting your self-esteem whenever you're feeling down.

Listener and Advisor: Despite his carefree attitude, Gojo is a great listener and always offers sound advice whenever you need it. Whether it's about school, work, or personal issues, he'll lend a sympathetic ear and help you work through any problems.

Protective Nature: As a Jujutsu Sorcerer, Gojo has a strong protective instinct, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe from harm. He'll always have your back in dangerous situations and will go to great lengths to ensure your well-being.

Intellectual Stimulation: Gojo is incredibly intelligent and well-read, so expect deep conversations about a wide range of topics, from philosophy and history to pop culture and current events. He'll challenge your mind and keep you intellectually stimulated.

Romantic Gestures: Despite his playful demeanor, Gojo knows how to be romantic when the occasion calls for it. Whether it's surprising you with flowers and chocolates or writing you heartfelt love letters, he'll always make sure you feel loved and cherished.

Respect for Independence: While Gojo loves spending time with you, he also respects your independence and understands the importance of having your own space and interests. He'll never try to control or smother you, allowing you to pursue your passions freely.

Unpredictable Romance: Dating Gojo is anything but boring. With his unpredictable nature and boundless energy, every day is a new adventure filled with surprises, laughter, and love. Get ready for a whirlwind romance unlike any other.

Drabble: You and Satoru Gojo are strolling through a bustling street market, the air filled with the aroma of exotic spices and the chatter of vendors. His hand is intertwined with yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm as you browse the colorful stalls.

"Hey, check this out," Satoru says, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he leads you to a stall selling handmade jewelry. You watch as he sifts through the intricate designs, his enthusiasm contagious.

"This one would look perfect on you," he declares, holding up a delicate silver necklace adorned with a small sapphire gemstone. You smile, touched by his thoughtfulness, and let him fasten it around your neck.

As you continue exploring the market, Satoru's attention is constantly drawn to the most peculiar items—a jar of glowing fireflies, a mysterious-looking mask, a book with a tattered cover. He's like a child in a candy store, his curiosity endless and infectious.

Eventually, the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the bustling market. Satoru suggests grabbing dinner at a nearby ramen shop, and you eagerly agree.

As you sit across from each other, slurping noodles and sharing laughs, you can't help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple yet unforgettable, filled with love and laughter. With Satoru by your side, every day is an adventure worth savouring.

Suguru Geto

Mysterious Dates: Suguru is not one to reveal everything about himself easily, so dates with him might involve a lot of mystery and surprise. He enjoys keeping you on your toes, planning unexpected outings or adventures that make every moment with him thrilling.

Intellectual Conversations: Geto is highly intelligent and well-read, so conversations with him are never dull. Whether you're discussing philosophy, literature, or the latest supernatural phenomena, he always has something insightful to contribute and enjoys engaging with your ideas and perspectives.

Dark Sense of Humor: Geto's humor tends to be on the darker side, often laced with sarcasm and wit. He appreciates someone who can match his dry humor and isn't easily offended by his sometimes macabre jokes.

Protective Nature: Despite his aloof exterior, Suguru cares deeply for those he's close to, and he's fiercely protective of his loved ones. He'll go to great lengths to ensure your safety and well-being, even if it means putting himself in danger.

Occasional Disappearances: As someone involved in the dangerous world of curses and sorcery, Suguru may occasionally have to disappear for extended periods to deal with supernatural threats. While it can be worrying, you understand that it comes with the territory and eagerly await his return, knowing he'll always come back to you.

Emotional Walls: Suguru has his fair share of emotional baggage, and he's not always quick to open up about his feelings. It takes time and patience to earn his trust, but once you do, you'll find a deeply caring and loyal partner beneath his stoic facade.

Romantic Gestures with a Twist: Geto may not be the most conventional romantic, but he has his own way of showing affection. Whether it's leaving cryptic messages for you to decipher or surprising you with a carefully curated selection of dark poetry, his gestures always come with an air of mystery and intrigue.

Drabble: You sit across from Suguru at a dimly lit cafe, the ambient chatter around you blending with the soft jazz music playing in the background. His piercing gaze flickers over the menu, lips quirking into a faint smirk as he considers his options. You watch him, captivated by the way his mind works, always calculating, always one step ahead.

When he finally looks up, his eyes meet yours, a hint of amusement dancing within them. "What do you recommend?" he asks, voice low and smooth like velvet.

You suggest a specialty coffee, and he nods, signaling the waiter with a subtle gesture. As you wait for your drinks, conversation flows effortlessly between you, shifting from mundane topics to the esoteric mysteries that both fascinate and haunt Suguru's world.

He leans in closer, his breath brushing against your skin as he confides in you, sharing glimpses of his past, his fears, his hopes. It's a rare moment of vulnerability, one that you cherish, knowing that he trusts you enough to let you in.

When the coffee arrives, Suguru takes a slow sip, savoring the rich aroma before meeting your gaze once more. "Thank you," he murmurs, a genuine warmth softening his usually guarded expression.

In that moment, you realize how much he means to you, how his enigmatic presence has woven itself into the fabric of your life. You reach across the table to brush your fingers against his and he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with a small quirk of his lips.

Kento Nanami

Loyalty Above All: Nanami values loyalty immensely, so in a relationship, he's the epitome of a faithful partner. Once he commits, he's all in, prioritizing his partner's happiness and well-being.

Reserved Affection: While Nanami might not be overtly affectionate in public, he shows his love through thoughtful gestures and actions. It could be something as simple as making your favorite meal after a long day or leaving little notes around the house.

Understanding and Respect: He's someone who deeply respects his partner's independence and space. He understands the importance of individual growth and encourages you to pursue your passions and dreams.

Quality Time: Despite his busy schedule, Nanami makes a concerted effort to spend quality time with his partner. Whether it's a quiet evening at home or a spontaneous weekend getaway, he cherishes these moments together.

Shared Interests: Nanami appreciates having common interests with his partner, whether it's enjoying a good book together, going on hikes, or simply binge-watching your favorite shows.

Trust and Communication: Trust and communication are non-negotiables for Nanami. He believes in open and honest dialogue, discussing any concerns or issues that may arise in the relationship calmly and respectfully.

Sense of Humor: Despite his serious demeanor, Nanami has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard. He loves sharing witty banter and inside jokes with his partner, finding joy in those little moments of laughter.

Supportive Partner: Nanami is your biggest cheerleader, always there to support you through life's ups and downs. Whether you're facing challenges at work or personal struggles, he's by your side, offering guidance and encouragement.

Surprising Romantic: While he may not be the most overtly romantic person, Nanami has his moments of surprising you with heartfelt gestures or unexpected romantic outings, showing that he truly cares and appreciates you.

Security and Stability: In Nanami's arms, you feel a sense of security and stability. His calm and composed demeanor serves as an anchor, providing you with the reassurance that no matter what happens, you have each other's backs.

Drabble: As you walk through the bustling streets, the weight of the day's stress begins to lift at the mere thought of returning home to Kento Nanami. The door creaks open, revealing the comforting glow of the living room lamp, casting soft shadows against the walls.

"Welcome back," his voice, warm and soothing, washes over you as you step inside. His presence alone brings a sense of calm, grounding you in the present moment.

You watch as he sets aside his paperwork, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. It's a silent invitation, one that you eagerly accept as you join him on the couch.

In the quiet intimacy of the evening, you find solace in each other's company. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly as if they were made to fit together. There's no need for words; his touch speaks volumes, conveying a depth of affection that words could never capture.

As you rest your head against his shoulder, you feel a sense of belonging wash over you, a feeling that this is where you're meant to be. In this moment, surrounded by his love, you realize that home isn't a place—it's the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the unwavering presence of Kento Nanami by your side.

Choso Kamo

Protective Nature: Choso is fiercely protective of his loved ones. When in a relationship, he would prioritize the safety and well-being of his partner above all else. Expect him to always have your back in any situation, whether it's fighting curses or dealing with everyday challenges.

Reserved yet Affectionate: Choso may come off as aloof or distant at first, but once he opens up to you, his affection knows no bounds. He expresses his love through subtle gestures, like cooking your favorite meals or silently watching over you when you sleep.

Deep Conversations: Choso is not one for small talk. He prefers deep, meaningful conversations where both partners can share their inner thoughts and feelings. Whether it's discussing philosophy, the mysteries of life, or simply sharing personal stories, he values intellectual stimulation in a relationship.

Physical Affection: Despite his stoic demeanor, Choso craves physical affection from his partner. He may not initiate it often, but he appreciates moments of closeness, whether it's holding hands, cuddling, or sharing a comforting hug after a long day.

Respectful of Boundaries: Choso respects boundaries and understands the importance of personal space. He won't pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with and will always communicate openly about his own needs and boundaries.

Adventurous Spirit: Dating Choso means embarking on thrilling adventures together. Whether it's exploring new places, trying exotic foods, or facing dangerous curses, he enjoys the excitement of discovering the unknown with his partner by his side.

Loyalty and Devotion: Once Choso commits to a relationship, he is fiercely loyal and devoted. He values honesty and integrity, and expects the same from his partner. Trust is paramount in his eyes, and he will do everything in his power to uphold it.

Emotional Support: Choso may not always know the right words to say, but he's a great listener and offers unwavering emotional support. Whether you're celebrating successes or facing hardships, he'll be there to lend a comforting shoulder to lean on.

Drabble: As you stroll through the bustling streets of the city, Choso walks quietly beside you, his presence both calming and reassuring. The neon lights illuminate the night, casting a soft glow upon his stoic features. You steal a glance at him, marvelling at the way his eyes gleam with a quiet intensity.

"Have you ever been to this part of town before?" you ask, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

Choso shakes his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No, but I'm enjoying exploring it with you."

His words warm your heart, and you find yourself drawn to him even more. As you continue your journey through the labyrinth of streets, you can't help but feel grateful for this moment, for the simple joy of being by his side.

Suddenly, a gust of wind sends a flurry of cherry blossoms swirling around you, creating a magical spectacle of pink petals dancing in the air. Choso reaches out and catches one, his hand closing around it gently.

"For luck," he murmurs, sliding the flower into your hair.

You blush, feeling a surge of warmth spread through you at the simple gesture. In that moment, you realize how lucky you are to have Choso in your life

Ryomen Sukuna

Protective Nature: Dating Sukuna means having someone fiercely protective by your side. He may not openly admit it, but he's always keeping a close eye on your surroundings, ensuring your safety without you even realizing it.

Unexpected Gentleness: Despite his fierce reputation, Sukuna has moments of unexpected gentleness reserved only for you. Whether it's a soft touch, a tender word, or a protective arm around your shoulders, he shows his affection in subtle but meaningful ways.

Adventure Seeker: Sukuna isn't one to shy away from adventure, and dating him means embarking on thrilling journeys together. Whether it's exploring ancient ruins, seeking out powerful adversaries, or simply wandering through the wilderness, every moment with him is an exhilarating experience.

Shared Secrets: As someone with a complex past and deep-seated secrets, Sukuna doesn't open up easily. However, as your relationship grows, he begins to trust you with pieces of his past, sharing intimate details and vulnerabilities that he hides from the rest of the world.

Fiery Passion: Passionate doesn't even begin to describe Sukuna's intensity in both love and war. When it comes to you, his passion blazes like wildfire, consuming everything in its path. From heated arguments to fiery embraces, every moment with him is electrifying.

Balancing Act: Dating Sukuna requires a delicate balance between his human and demonic sides. While his demonic nature can be intimidating, his human side craves love and companionship. You find yourself navigating the complexities of both, knowing that even the slightest misstep could have dire consequences.

Mutual Growth: Despite his centuries of existence, Sukuna is still capable of growth and change, especially with you by his side. As you navigate the ups and downs of your relationship, you both learn from each other, evolving and becoming better versions of yourselves in the process.

Unwavering Loyalty: Once you earn Sukuna's loyalty and affection, you have it for life. He may be ruthless to his enemies, but he's fiercely loyal to those he cares about. Knowing that he would do anything to protect you gives you a sense of security like no other.

Drabble: You sit beside Sukuna, watching the flames dance in the darkness. His presence is both comforting and electrifying, his aura tinged with a dangerous allure that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," he remarks, his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder.

You glance at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Just enjoying the moment," you reply, leaning into his warmth.

His gaze softens, a rare tenderness flickering in those crimson eyes. Without a word, he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders protectively.

In that moment, surrounded by darkness and danger, you find solace in his embrace. With Sukuna by your side, you know that no matter what challenges may come, you'll face them together, bound by an unbreakable bond forged in fire and passion.

Toji Fushiguro

Quiet Moments: Despite his rough exterior, Toji enjoys quiet moments too. You'll often find yourselves enjoying peaceful evenings together, maybe watching the sunset or stargazing. These moments allow him to open up in his own way, sharing thoughts and stories he might not otherwise.

Late Night Talks: Despite his busy schedule, Toji cherishes the quiet moments he gets to spend with you. Late at night, when the rest of the world is asleep, he'll open up about his past, his dreams, and his fears, trusting you with his deepest thoughts and feelings.

Cooking Together: Toji might not be a master chef, but he enjoys cooking together with you. Expect lots of experimentation in the kitchen, with varying degrees of success. Even if the meal doesn't turn out perfectly, the experience of working together and laughing over mishaps is what matters most.

Protective Nature: Toji's protective instincts run deep. He'll always prioritize your safety and well-being, sometimes to the point of being overly cautious. While it can be frustrating at times, you appreciate knowing that he always has your back.

Surprising Affection: Toji may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but he has his ways of showing you he cares. Whether it's a gentle touch, a stolen kiss when he thinks no one's looking, or a thoughtful gesture that catches you off guard, his love for you is undeniable.

Equal Partners: Toji sees you as his equal in every way, and he'll treat you as such. He'll never belittle your achievements or dismiss your ambitions, and he'll always support you in pursuing your goals, no matter how big or small they may be.

Respecting Independence: Toji respects your independence and values your individuality. He'll never try to change you or smother you with constant attention. Instead, he encourages you to pursue your passions and dreams, offering his support every step of the way.

Blunt Honesty: Toji is known for his straightforwardness, and that doesn't change in a relationship. He'll always tell you exactly what's on his mind, even if it's not what you want to hear. But his honesty also means you'll never have to second-guess where you stand with him.

Unconventional Romance: Your relationship with Toji is anything but conventional, and you wouldn't have it any other way. From his blunt honesty to his unexpected gestures of affection, every moment with him is an adventure filled with surprises and excitement.

Drabble: You're sitting together on the rooftop of your apartment building, the city lights twinkling below like a sea of stars. Toji's leaning against the railing, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The night air is cool against your skin, but his presence beside you radiates warmth.

"You ever think about the future?" he asks, his voice low and contemplative.

You tilt your head, studying his profile in the dim light. "Sometimes," you admit. "But right now, I'm just happy to be here with you."

Toji quirks an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Smooth talker," he teases, but there's a hint of fondness in his tone.

You reach out and gently bump your shoulder against his. "Seriously though," you say softly. "As long as I'm with you, the future doesn't seem so scary."

For a moment, Toji is silent, his gaze softening as he looks at you. Then, he stubs out his cigarette and turns to face you fully, his hand finding yours in the darkness.

"Guess we'll just have to take it one day at a time," he says, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Together."

Yuta Okkotsu

Protective Nature: Yuta is fiercely protective of those he cares about. He'll always have your back in any situation, whether it's a dangerous cursed spirit encounter or just offering emotional support during tough times.

Adventurous Spirit: Yuta loves to explore and try new things, so dates with him would often involve exciting adventures like hiking in the mountains, exploring hidden shrines, or trying out exotic cuisines at hole-in-the-wall restaurants.

Gentle and Considerate: Despite his tough exterior and his past struggles, Yuta is incredibly gentle and considerate towards his partner. He'll always listen to your thoughts and feelings, and he'll go out of his way to make you feel loved and appreciated.

Shared Interests: Yuta is a big fan of movies, especially horror films, so movie nights with him would be a common occurrence. You'll find yourselves curled up on the couch together, popcorn in hand, watching your favorite films or discovering new ones.

Training Together: Yuta takes his training as a sorcerer very seriously, and he'd love to share that part of his life with you. You might find yourselves practicing martial arts together or studying curses and exorcism techniques side by side.

Supportive Partner: Yuta understands the weight of carrying burdens, and he'll always be there to support you through yours. Whether it's helping you overcome your fears or chasing your dreams, he'll be your biggest cheerleader every step of the way.

Quiet Moments: While Yuta enjoys thrilling adventures, he also cherishes quiet moments spent together. Whether it's sitting together under the stars, taking a leisurely stroll through a park, or simply cuddling up together on the couch, he treasures these peaceful moments with you.

Unwavering Loyalty: Once Yuta commits to a relationship, he's in it for the long haul. You can always count on his unwavering loyalty and dedication, knowing that he'll stand by your side through thick and thin.

Surprises: Yuta might not always be the most vocal about his feelings, but he shows his love in thoughtful gestures and surprises. Whether it's leaving little notes for you to find or planning spontaneous weekend getaways, he's always finding ways to make you feel special.

Growing Together: Yuta believes in growing and evolving together as a couple. He's open to communication and compromise, always striving to strengthen your bond and build a future together filled with love and happiness.

Drabble: As you sit together in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across the walls, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Yuta's arm is draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you both watch a suspenseful horror movie. Despite the tension on the screen, you feel safe and secure in his embrace.

Every now and then, Yuta steals a glance at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. You catch his gaze and share a smile, a silent exchange that speaks volumes. In moments like these, words seem unnecessary. It's the quiet comfort of being together that matters most.

As the movie reaches its climax, you find yourself instinctively leaning into Yuta, seeking solace in his presence. He tightens his hold around you, offering silent reassurance. And in that simple gesture, you realize how lucky you are to have him by your side.

Yuji Itadori

Food Lover: Yuji has a huge appetite and loves trying different foods. He'd enjoy taking you to his favourite food spots and would always be open to trying new cuisines together. Expect lots of foodie adventures and maybe even some friendly competitions to see who can finish their meal first! (Spoiler alert: it's never you unless he lets you win)

Supportive Partner: Despite his tough exterior, Yuji is incredibly caring and supportive. He'd always be there for you, whether you need someone to listen to your problems or just want a shoulder to lean on. He's a great listener and would go out of his way to make you feel loved and supported.

Training Buddies: Yuji takes his training seriously, and he'd love having you by his side as his training partner. Whether it's hitting the gym, going for runs, or practicing martial arts together, you'd both push each other to become stronger physically and mentally.

Goofy and Playful: Yuji has a playful side and loves goofing around. He'd enjoy teasing you in a lighthearted way and would always be up for silly antics and inside jokes. His infectious laughter and cheerful personality would make every moment spent together full of joy and laughter.

Protective Nature: As a Jujutsu Sorcerer, Yuji has a strong sense of justice and a desire to protect others. He'd prioritize your safety above all else and would do whatever it takes to keep you out of harm's way. Knowing that he's always looking out for you would make you feel safe and cherished.

Heart of Gold: Despite facing many hardships in his life, Yuji remains kind-hearted and optimistic. He'd always see the best in you and would love you unconditionally. His sincerity and warmth would melt your heart, and being with him would make you feel truly cherished and valued.

Drabble: As you stroll through the bustling streets, Yuji's hand finds yours, fingers intertwining naturally. His infectious energy radiates, filling the air with excitement.

"You hungry?" he grins, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Without waiting for an answer, he leads you to a cozy ramen joint he's been raving about. Inside, the aroma of savory broth and spices envelops you, and you can't help but smile at Yuji's enthusiasm.

As you slurp noodles and share laughs, you realize how effortless it feels to be with him. His presence is comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold day. You find yourself drawn to his kindness, his unwavering optimism.

Later, as the sun sets and the city lights twinkle like stars, Yuji takes your hand again, his touch gentle yet reassuring. In this moment, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that wherever life takes you, Yuji will be there, holding your hand every step of the way.

Megumi Fushiguro

Reserved Affection: Megumi might not always be the most expressive verbally, but he shows his affection through small, subtle gestures. Expect random acts of kindness like making you tea or remembering your favorite snacks.

Quiet Understanding: He's a great listener. Megumi may not always offer advice right away, but he'll listen intently to whatever is on your mind, and when he does speak, it's often profound and thoughtful.

Adventurous Spirit: Despite his serious demeanor, Megumi enjoys exploring new places and trying new things. He might surprise you with impromptu trips to quaint cafes or hiking trails on weekends.

Protective Nature: Megumi takes his role as your partner seriously and will go to great lengths to ensure your safety and well-being. He might not show it overtly, but he's always watching out for you.

Shared Interests: He appreciates having common interests but also respects your individuality. Whether it's a shared love for animals, literature, or martial arts, he enjoys bonding over mutual passions.

Balanced Independence: Megumi values his independence and understands the importance of giving you space to grow and pursue your own interests. He's supportive and encouraging of your personal goals and aspirations.

Trust and Loyalty: Once you earn Megumi's trust, he's fiercely loyal. He values honesty and integrity in a relationship and expects the same in return.

Emotional Depths: While Megumi may appear stoic on the surface, he has deep emotional complexities. He's not afraid to open up to you about his fears, dreams, and vulnerabilities, trusting you with his innermost thoughts.

Comfortable Silence: Sometimes, the most comfortable moments with Megumi are the ones spent in silence, just enjoying each other's presence without the need for constant conversation.

Slow-Burning Romance: Megumi's love is steady and enduring. It may take time for him to fully express his feelings, but when he does, it's genuine and unwavering. He's in it for the long haul.

Drabble: You stand beside Megumi Fushiguro, his quiet presence both comforting and intimidating. The sun sets, casting a golden glow over his dark hair and serious eyes. You try to catch his gaze, but he’s focused on the horizon, deep in thought. There’s a certain stillness to him, a calm that makes your heart race and your thoughts scatter.

“Megumi,” you say softly, almost afraid to break the silence. He turns to you, his expression softening just a bit. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. For a moment, he hesitates, then his hand closes around yours, warm and reassuring.

“Let’s stay a little longer,” he murmurs, his voice low but filled with something you can’t quite name. You nod, squeezing his hand gently. In this fleeting moment, under the fading light, everything feels right. You don’t need words to know that he feels it too.

Toge Inumaki

Communicative Gestures: Toge uses a mix of hand signals, notes, and texts to communicate with you, and over time, you become fluent in his unique language. A simple tap on your shoulder or a gentle squeeze of your hand speaks volumes.

Protective Streak: Despite his calm demeanor, Toge is incredibly protective of you. His cursed speech is a last resort, but he won’t hesitate to use it if you’re in danger. He’s always watching over you, ensuring you’re safe.

Quiet Comfort: You two enjoy a lot of quiet moments together. Whether it’s cuddling while watching a movie or sitting in a café reading books, Toge’s presence is soothing, and you find peace in these silent moments.

Thoughtful Surprises: Toge loves surprising you with little gifts and notes. He might leave a flower on your desk, a favorite snack in your bag, or a sweet note with a simple “Salmon” to brighten your day.

Cooking Together: He enjoys cooking with you, using his knowledge of food to whip up delicious meals. You bond over trying new recipes, and he loves seeing the smile on your face when you taste something new and delicious.

Supportive Partner: Toge is always supportive of your dreams and ambitions. He listens attentively when you talk about your goals and offers silent encouragement through his actions and expressions.

Playful Side: Though he often seems serious, Toge has a playful side that he shows only to you. He enjoys teasing you gently, making you laugh with his quirky sense of humor.

Shared Training: You train together, and Toge teaches you techniques to improve your skills. These sessions bring you closer, and you appreciate his patience and dedication.

Protective Hugs: Toge’s hugs are tight and reassuring. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a way that makes you feel safe and cherished. Drabble: You sit beside Toge Inumaki on the grassy hill overlooking the city. The sun is setting, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. Toge hands you a bento box he prepared, filled with your favorite foods. His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief, and you can’t help but smile.

“Salmon,” he says softly, his way of telling you to enjoy the meal. You take a bite, savoring the flavors, and he watches you with a contented expression.

You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. He responds with a light squeeze back, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with unspoken words and shared understanding.

He pulls out a small notebook and writes something, then shows it to you: "Beautiful evening, beautiful you." Your heart swells at his words, and you lean in, resting your head on his shoulder.

Together, you watch as the stars begin to appear, one by one. In this quiet moment, you feel completely at peace, knowing that Toge is by your side, silently loving you in his own special way.

SPECIAL ADDITION: Maki Zenin

Training Together: Maki values strength and skill, so training sessions together become a regular part of your relationship. She pushes you to your limits, but also knows when to offer encouragement and praise.

Tough Love: Maki has a tough exterior, but she shows her affection through small acts of care. She might grumble while bandaging your wounds after a tough fight, but her touch is always gentle.

Competitive Streak: She’s fiercely competitive, and you often find yourselves in playful contests, whether it’s sparring, running races, or even silly games. The banter that ensues is always light-hearted and fun.

Supportive Partner: Maki is incredibly supportive of your goals and dreams. She understands the importance of fighting for what you believe in and stands by your side through thick and thin.

Protective Nature: Maki’s protective nature means she’s always watching out for you. She won’t tolerate anyone who disrespects or threatens you, and she’s quick to step in if needed.

Soft Moments: Despite her tough demeanor, Maki has a soft side that she shows only to you. Quiet moments together, like watching the stars or simply holding hands, are when she lets her guard down.

Cooking Together: Maki enjoys cooking with you, though she’s more practical than creative in the kitchen. She loves seeing you happy, especially when you’re enjoying a meal you made together.

Shared Interests: You bond over shared interests, whether it’s training, strategizing, or discussing the latest mission. Your conversations are always engaging and meaningful.

Genuine Laughter: Maki has a dry sense of humor, and you cherish the moments when you make her genuinely laugh. Her laughter is rare but precious, and it makes your heart swell with joy.

Affectionate Gestures: Maki isn’t big on public displays of affection, but in private, she’s more affectionate. She enjoys holding you close, resting her head on your shoulder, and stealing kisses when no one’s looking.

Drabble: You find yourself sparring with Maki under the dappled light filtering through the dojo’s windows. She moves with precision, her every step calculated, her eyes never leaving yours. You’re out of breath, but you push yourself to keep up, driven by her relentless determination.

“Come on, you can do better,” she taunts, a smirk playing on her lips. There’s a challenge in her gaze, but also an undeniable warmth.

You manage to land a hit, and her eyes widen with surprise before she grins, a rare and genuine smile. “That’s more like it,” she says, her voice softer now.

After the session, you both collapse onto the mats, breathless and laughing. Maki’s laughter is a sound you cherish, rare and beautiful. She reaches over, her hand finding yours, fingers intertwining. The callouses on her palm are a testament to her strength and dedication.

“You’re getting better,” she murmurs, her tone filled with pride. You squeeze her hand, feeling a rush of warmth at her words.

“Thanks to you,” you reply, meeting her gaze. There’s a moment of silence, charged with unspoken emotions, and then she leans in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your lips.

“Let’s keep pushing each other,” she says, determination and affection mingling in her eyes. You nod, knowing that with Maki by your side, you can face anything.

[bumblesimagines]

Doomcoming

Request: Yes or No

Summary: After Flight 2525 crashes in the Canadian wilderness, (Y/N) Palmer is forced to acquaint himself with his sister's surviving teammates. He unexpectedly finds himself growing closer to their former team captain.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Yellowjackets warnings, sexual content, mentions of the roofied stew, mentions of attempted murder, the whole doomcoming episode essentially, mentions of cheating and teen pregnancy (Shauna)

divider by saradika-graphics!

~~~

There was something daunting about the wilderness around them, something that made his stomach turn with unease, and had anxiety clutching his heart so tight he feared it'd burst in his chest.

He once thought he liked the woods, thought he enjoyed the beauty of something real and raw and untouched by the hands of mankind who so often sought to destroy what they couldn't control. He thought he saw beauty in the towering trees and the natural cycle binding the forest together.

It was hard to appreciate a cage once you were locked inside it.

Even as the girls giggled and bustled around with sticks and dying leaves to decorate the clearing for their own version of homecoming, he couldn't help but fidget with the sticks and moss he'd been given to convert into whatever he liked. His lips remained twisted downward into a hard frown and his facial muscles were beginning to hurt from how long he'd kept his brows furrowed. He couldn't help it. His concentrated face had never been pretty. His mother used to say it reminded her of his grandfather, a man worn down by grief and time unable to escape his past as a soldier. She never said it kindly.

"Fuck," He hissed quietly in frustration when another twig broke between his fingers, and in one quick swoop, he shoved the pile off his lap and let them clatter onto the forest floor to be forgotten as he stood and listened to them crackle and snap underneath his dirtied sneaker. The hot flash of emotion evaporated as quickly as it'd reared its head, and his shoulders sagged with the exhaustion that followed. 

(Y/N) had never been the type to fall so easily into the jaws of anger, that was a quality he attributed to Travis or Natalie, sometimes even Taissa when things didn't go her way.

Not him, though.

He'd always been the quiet one who preferred solitary over company, the guy with few friends who spent his time listening to music on his walkman with a book in hand and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips before and after school, the guy forced to accompany his little sister even though she was only a year younger than him and perfectly capable of standing up for herself. 

God, how he wanted a cigarette. It was a nasty habit, one he tried to quit for the sake of Van, but it was familiar and kept him busy whenever his mind wanted to run in everlasting circles.

His last pack, one he'd shoved into his bag at the very last minute before they had to leave to catch the godforsaken plane, had gone up in flames alongside his beloved walkman, a few books, and the unlucky few who hadn't escaped the ruins of the plane.

He managed to catch himself in time before he barreled into one of the girls, spitting out an apology and stepping aside to go around them before a hand firmly grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and held it in a tight fist. Almost instinctively, he jerked his arm away and frowned, the frown only deepening at the sight of Taissa staring at him with a grimace. "What?"

Her brows twitched. "Excuse me? What's with the atti-"

"I don't want to hear it, Taissa." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh. "What do you want?"

"I.." Taissa trailed off and her typically composed mask crumbled before his very eyes.

Her cracked lips pressed into a tight, thin, almost nervous line and she tucked in her chin to look down at the objects she cradled in her free hand as if they were precious china dolls she couldn't risk damaging. His eyes dropped down to them and his brows lowered at the sight of the handmade masks from cloth and leather stitched together. 

"I know Van doesn't want to join us because she's self-conscious so I.. I made us masks to wear. Do- Do you think she'll like them?"

The tension circulating in his weary body dulled for a moment as he stared down at the masks, lovingly crafted just for his sister's sake and happiness. He and Taissa had never seen eye-to-eye, no matter how hard Van tried through various means; attending parties together, catching lunch at the local diner, dragging him to the after-parties of their games. They begrudgingly co-existed for the most part, forced to be amicable so the girl they both cared for could be content.

Taissa was too headstrong, too stubborn, and too often refused to admit her wrongdoings for his liking.. but his sister loved her and embraced all the flaws he found too irritating to deal with. She took a girl most people walked on eggshells around and loved her as if she were a rose and not a thorn.

He ran a delicate finger over the soft fabric of one of the masks and felt himself soften up at the sweetness of it all, the thought that went into it. His mouth tugged into a strained smile. He wondered if their mother hoped her little girl was being taken care of, or if she even knew what day it was without them watching over her. "Yeah, she'll love 'em." 

"Good." Taissa let out a shaky breath of relief and nodded, offering him back one of those genuine smiles she reserved for those she cared about. "I'll see you at the party?"

His smile dropped. "I guess."

If it hadn't been for his Van's insistence that he pack some nicer clothes (he barely had any, to begin with) for the awards dinner they'd never get to attend, he would've had to suffice with one of his nicer-looking flannels or jumpers; instead, he slipped on the only polo shirt he packed, some jeans, and the cleanest pair of sneakers he could find even though he knew they would be caked in dirt by the end of the evening.

His hands remained shoved in his pockets as he strolled into the clearing and took in what they'd transformed it into. It could never compare to the clean, chilly, and neatly decorated gym where all the formal school events were held, but it radiated with the love and care poured into it. It almost felt.. homey. Comfortable.

In the middle of the clearing was a small campfire surrounded by fallen logs covered in moss that acted as their tables and seating. They'd used sturdy branches embedded in the ground and covered in cloth as torches, the crackling of the flames adding to the serene atmosphere. The jugs of juice Mari had accidentally fragmented over time sat surrounded by cups and the large pot of stew waiting to be eaten.

Most, if not all of the girls wore the dresses they'd packed for the awards dinner, makeup they managed to find or salvage decorating their usually bare faces. Even Misty, who he'd only ever seen wearing mascara, had her cheeks powered pink and eyelids colored purple. They'd styled their hair with crowns made of sticks, autumn leaves, and dying flowers.

With the songs of birds and insects serving as their music, everyone began to settle down around the clearing, cradling wooden bowls of the stew or drinking every last drop of the juice poured into their cups in hopes of getting even the slightest bit drunk.

(Y/N) curled his fingers around his plastic cup and swirled the dark purple juice remaining in it, a bittersweet tart flavor dancing on his tongue but not quite filling him with the typical warmth alcohol did. He stared down at the liquid, practically willing it to become wine so he could forget about everything for just a night.

The death of Laura Lee still hung over them like a thick blanket, but in the short time he'd been around the optimistic blonde, he knew she would've preferred a celebration of life over the somberness of grief that clung heavily to those who knew her best.

His gaze raised to search for Lottie in particular and he found the raven-haired girl sitting in front of the bonfire with a blank stare that only tugged on his heartstrings, even as she offered small smiles to her friends and teammates. Nobody had been able to pull her away from the lake after the explosion for hours, and her quiet sniffling often kept him up throughout the following nights.

"Hey," A voice cooed from behind as slender fingers pressed into his lower back, nails dragging along the fabric of his forest green shirt in a teasing manner. Jackie batted her mascara-coated lashes at him and offered a coy smile when her fingers danced their way to his forearm where she casually looped her arm around his. "Havin' fun?" She asked with a slight tilt of her head, big hazel eyes peering at him with focused attention he wasn't used to getting from the friendly striker. 

"Uh-"

Her smile widened when some of the girls began to sing (or rather scream) the lyrics to Kiss from a Rose at the top of their lungs, their gleeful cackles and snickers cutting through the lyrics. They swayed and spun, twirling their dresses and somehow avoiding spilling their drinks despite the occasional stumble here and there. "We should dance." 

Before he could say anything against it, because the only woman he'd ever danced with had been his grandmother when he was seven, Jackie scooped his cup out of his hand and set it blindly aside before tugging him toward the others. Her arms circled his shoulders and she drew him close, the act foreign to him yet welcoming.

He spent his whole life fussing over Van and ensuring their mother didn't drink herself to death, taking Van to and from soccer parties or parties or secret dates, pleading with Mr. Clark to let his mother keep her job at the diner 'cause his job at the old rundown theatre wouldn't be enough for the bills; he never had enough time for the girls who showed interest, let alone entertained the idea of involving himself with someone like Jacqueline Taylor whose childhood home was practically a mansion in his eyes.

Tentatively, he placed his hands over her hips, and Jackie responded with a soft giggle, her eyes sparkling with the sunlight peeking through the trees. She looked nice, nicer than she had in the past couple of weeks, maybe the last month.

He stopped keeping track of the time that passed a while back when he found it too depressing and consuming. The leaves changing from shades of green to varying shades of orange and red, combined with the temperatures subtly dropping, told him more than enough. The world was still spinning, they were still stranded, and they were probably going to die before winter finished settling in.

"You look handsome," Jackie said softly, her hands carefully adjusting the back of his collar before she tilted her head, brows quirking with expectation he wasn't surprised to see.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and gave an amused huff. "You look pretty."

Her eyes crinkled with delight, not even pretending to act bashful, and her hands moved down, first pressing over his shoulders and then dragging over his arms until they curled around his wrists. Her teeth caught her bottom lip and she batted her lashes at him again, the tips of her ears turning a soft pink.

"You want to, uh.. go for a walk?"

Ever since Lottie discovered the old, cobweb-covered bones in the attic, (Y/N) ensured to make it a point he was never going up there, especially after the girls decided to 'communicate' with the 'spirit' and the night ended with Lottie splitting her forehead open on the window after a so-called possession. He didn't believe in that sort of crap, but he wasn't about to go messing with it either.

Taissa and Shauna had taken advantage of everyone's hesitance and taken residence in the attic, leaving them with more than enough space and only the hissing wind to disturb them throughout the night. He almost envied them, but he would rather fall asleep listening to Coach Ben's snores than risk confirming that ghosts were real and haunting the only place offering them shelter.

"This place is..." (Y/N) trailed off with a sharp inhale, goosebumps rising along his arms as he soaked in the eery and desolate attic. 

It was dark, the only light pouring in coming from the two windows on either end that were far too dirty to look through, and every inch of it was covered in dust collected from however long it'd remained abandoned before they stumbled upon the cabin.

Taissa and Shauna's belongings, their luggage and blankets, were messily scattered around, the only thing that provided him with a hint of normalcy. But it was quickly chased away with unease as his eyes fell onto the symbol carved into the wooden floorboard, the same one he sometimes saw carved into the trees around the cabin. The weight of anxiety settled on his chest, threatening to cave it in. 

He wished Laure Lee had brought some sage with her.

"Romantic?" Jackie finished for him with a tilt of her head, her tone mixed with hopefulness and amusement. She clasped her hands together in front of her and let out a shallow breath, the ends of her mint dress brushing over the laces of her sneakers with each nervous sway from her hips. 

Lifting his head to look at her, he arched a brow. "Yeah, 'cause nothing screams romantic like a dusty old attic someone died in, Jackie." 

Her shoulders shook with agreeable laughter and she reached up to carefully pull the crown from her head, gently tugging and smoothing back the brown strands that'd grown tangled in the sticks.

Everything about her felt... off, as if she was a husk of the optimistic and enthusiastic girl everyone back home followed like ducklings. She looked distant, her body in the attic but her mind far away, likely back home in her old bedroom thinking about everything she could've been doing instead of starving.

"What's wrong?"

It felt dumb to ask a question like that when everything was wrong. They were stranded in the middle of the wilderness with food they had to forage or hunt for, water they had to boil, clothes they had to share and wash in lake water, and the ghosts of dead classmates haunting the edges of their minds. Laure Lee, the most faithful of them all, had died, leaving a gaping space no one could fill because no one else could replace the kind-hearted, sweet, pious girl who poured her heart into praying for them all. Her god hadn't even granted her the mercy of a peaceful death.

Jackie's jaw shifted with her teeth grinding together, jaw clenching and unclenching. "Shauna was fucking Jeff." She revealed with a bitter, shaky chuckle, her chest stuttering with a deep inhale before she spun around to face away from him. (Y/N) hoped his sharp inhale hadn't been noticeable. "My best friend was having sex with my boyfriend behind my back. My best friend is pregnant with my boyfriend's baby and- and she hasn't had the balls to tell me. All this- this fucking time I've been waiting for her to say something, anything."

The crown slipped from her fingers and her hands raised to bury her face in them, body trembling with muffled sniffles and whimpers. He winced and walked toward her, hesitating for a brief second before he placed his hands over her arms. "Hey," He murmured, gently nudging her toward the pile of blankets on the floor. "C'mon, sit down."

He'd done this dance plenty of times before that it became second nature. He always found himself cradling his sister in his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head and eyes gazing into the distance as she sobbed for this or that reason, or letting his mother bury her face in his chest when the alcohol heightened her emotions instead of dulling them. He was familiar with the dance, so much so it was instinctive for him to comfort.

His arm slid around her shoulder and she crumbled into his side, her whimpers turning into hiccupped cries as she released everything she held in her chest. He dragged his thumb and forth over her arm comfortingly and pressed his cheek against the top of her head, her frizzy hair tickling his skin and smelling subtly of the flowers she'd used for her crown. 

"God, this is so- ugh." She raised her head and wiped at her tear-stained cheeks in frustration, rubbing away the blush and slightly smearing her mascara when she swiped her fingers over her eyes. Her ears turned pink, a color that crept down her cheeks and neck. "This is so embarrassing. I-I didn't bring you up here to- to cry in your arms like a baby. I-" She shook her head.

"You needed a good cry, Jackie. It's normal." (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders and squeezed her arm reassuringly, drawing her teary-eyed gaze toward him. Her features softened and she pressed her lips together until they ceased quivering with emotion. "Honestly, I'd be worried if you weren't upset." He breathily chuckled, leaning back into the blankets and staring up at the cobwebs clinging to the slanted ceiling. 

Jackie reached behind her to tug her hair free from the hairstyle she'd pulled it back into before mimicking his actions, her hair sprawling out around her in a short halo. "I.. I know it looks like I'm only interested in you because my only choices are you and Travis but I always thought you were cool."

"Cool?" He echoed with a snort and lolled his head to look at her. "Poor guys who drive beaten-up cars and always smell like popcorn are ​​​​​​your definition of cool?"

"Oh, shut up. At least it's better than dumb football players who cheat on you with your best friends." Jackie laughed and threw a gentle punch at his arm, her voice hoarse from the crying but slowly clearing up. She gave a wistful sigh and rubbed her fingertip over the smeared mascara, her eyes tracing the lines in the ceiling. The corners of her brows dipped, forming creases in her skin.

"I used to pretend I didn't know if I loved Jeff, when the truth is, I didn't even like him that much. I used to think losing your virginity was supposed to be special, and then Shauna went and lost hers to my boyfriend. It- It doesn't matter, anymore. It's all.. bullshit. Love is bullshit."

"I thought love was bullshit too once." (Y/N) told her quietly, eyes flickering past her to gaze at Taissa's things. "My dad left us when we were young. He... up and left one day and never looked back, never bothered calling or sending a letter. He just walked out and disappeared as if we didn't matter, as if my mom hadn't bent over backward trying to be a good wife. I thought that.. if it was that easy to leave your own family behind like they're nothing, then love wasn't real.. that it didn't matter."

"What changed?"

The ghost of a smile passed over his face. "I watched Van fall in love. I listened to her talk about Taissa like she- she hung the fucking stars in the sky and I watched her face light up like a kid on Christmas whenever Taissa came around. I watched them mold themselves to fit each other because they care so much that they don't want to risk doing something wrong. If Van can find that much love in Tai, I think you've got a chance, too. You matter to a lot of people, Jackie. There's still a chance we get rescued.. there's still a chance you get your happily ever after."

After a beat of silence, Jackie moved, propping herself up on one elbow and peering down at him with an unreadable look. She reached out toward him, her fingers barely grazing over his neck before she pressed her palm against his skin and leaned down to give him a close-lipped kiss, and then another.

"Maybe you can be my happily ever after." She spoke quietly, voice barely about a whisper, and kissed him again, this time an open-mouth one that smeared her bubblegum pink lipstick over his lips.

(Y/N) always considered himself too busy for girlfriends. He'd tried once in freshman year but he never managed to keep up with the dates and hanging out in between work, school, homework, and taking care of his family.

The relationship only lasted a month but he'd been able to check out the 'important' firsts everyone else fussed over during high school just to avoid the teasing from the other boys. But, be it from the time since or the chaotic situation they found themselves in, kissing Jackie felt different. 

It was a surge of emotions muddling together yet immediately overridden by an overwhelming desire to be touched, to simply be in someone's embrace and escape the harsh reality they'd been forced into. It was easy to get lost in surviving and forget about the joys of living.

He kissed her back and her body relaxed, tension he hadn't noticed fading from her muscles. Her fingers dug into his neck and pulled as she tilted herself backward to resume laying on her back, her other hand crinkling her dress with tugs until it slipped down her thighs and freed her legs. He moved over her and settled between her parted legs, feeling her hand move from his neck to clutch his arm, half her fingers pressing into the sleeve and the other half pressing into his skin. 

Almost instinctively, his hips rolled and grinded against her, pulling a shaky gasp from Jackie. She tilted her head back, her grip tightening with each grind against her most sensitive area, and her chest beginning to heave with heavy inhales of air as her legs fell further apart.

He pressed kisses to her jawline and down to her throat, the cool chain of her gold necklace pressing into his lips and leaving small imprints behind. She pushed her upper half into him when he pressed his lips against the center of her chest just above the heart charm and momentarily released him to unclasp her bra peeking out from underneath the dress. 

She tossed it aside as if she hardly cared to find it again, and perhaps she'd leave it just to irk Shauna when it'd be undoubtedly found. She pulled on the straps of her dress and then tugged firmly at it to reveal her breasts, hazel eyes darting up to study his features, hoping to find some sort of reaction that'd boost her ego, only for her eyes to flutter shut when he palmed at her. She had fading tan lines he traced with his mouth, the skin typically unexposed to the sun a paler color. 

"I-" Jackie cut herself off with a breathy sigh, back arching and naturally pushing her newly exposed chest into his face when his thumb flickered over a hardened nub. "I-I want to." She exhaled, back dropping back onto the blanket beneath them and eyelids parting again, half-lidded as if she were dazed. 

"We don't have to." He murmured, face burying into her neck briefly, seeking out warmth from another. He missed being held. 

"I want to." She repeated with a self-assured nod, the light of the setting sun peeking through the trees and pouring in through the window, lighting up the attic in a gentler light. It seemed less hostile than before. "I really do."

Nodding, he leaned back onto his knees and pulled the polo shirt off by its collar as Jackie fumbled with the button of his jeans. When his hands were free, she dropped hers and lifted her hips, tugging off her underwear and dropping it aside. He pushed his pants and underwear down enough to expose himself, a curse leaving his lips when she wrapped her fingers around him and gave a few experimental pumps. 

"Jax," He exhaled. "What if-"

"I don't care." Jackie cupped the back of his neck and pulled him downward to kiss him again, hot and needy and more teeth than tongue. "I just want you."

(Y/N) complied, teeth grazing her bottom lip as he braced himself on one arm and reached down, hearing her soft gasp as he dragged the tip along her slick folds. She swallowed thickly and placed her hands over his shoulders, her knees knocking gently against his hips. When he kissed the side of her neck, he could feel the rapid pulse of her heartbeat. 

Jackie gasped loudly when he pushed inside and then winced, her nails digging into his shoulder blades hard enough to leave imprints and features scrunching up. He gave her a moment to breathe, to adjust to the new feeling, waiting until her nails relented to push further. Soft murmurs of comfort flowed into her ear, his free hand moving up to rest over her hip and squeeze comfortingly. He knew it hurt for some during their first time, sometimes it hurt always for others. 

He took his time, pushing and waiting for her to grow used to it, swallowing groans and whimpers when she unknowingly clenched around him from the sensations. He gave one last nudge to reach the base and she pulled him into another kiss, heavily panting against his mouth and apologetically rubbing her fingertips over the countless half-moon marks she left on his skin. 

"Okay," She swallowed, blinking away the glistening in her eyes and offering a giddy smile. "I'm okay."

Slowly, he moved, trying to focus on her features as they morphed from furrowed brows trying to grow used to the feeling to ones raised with pleasure. (Y/N) shifted his weight onto his knees and propped himself slightly on them, the hand on her hip growing firm to stabilize her before he began moving quicker. The sound of skin slapping on skin mixed with the grunts and heaves and moans that slowly grew in noise and the soft squelch from where their bodies were connected. 

Jackie pulled him as close as humanely possible, her palms dragging over his back, tracing the muscles and healed scar he'd obtained during the crash. One of her hands moved downward, passing over his hip and grasping the back of his thigh, almost willing him to go deeper, to somehow melt into each other and become one. Her lips remained parted, babbled words ranging from pleas to curses interrupting the choked breaths and whiny moans. 

The heel of her sneaker dragged along his clothed calf and he breathed comforting words into her flushed cheeks, each praise drawing a whimper from the back of her throat. He kissed away the tears of pleasure that dripped from the corner of her eyes, occasionally pressing into her temple when his mind escaped him, growing foggy and needy until he forced himself to focus again. Taking someone's virginity was as big as losing it, at least in his opinion. They were having enough bad experiences as is.

"Shit!" Jackie practically squealed in his ear, her back arching off the blankets again and head tilting back. "(Y/N)-"

(Y/N) moved fully back onto his knees and grasped Jackie's hips with both hands, listening to the thud of her sneakers planting themselves on the floorboards to hold up her weight as her hands flew down to hold onto his wrists. The new position seemed to hit exactly the right spot because a few seconds later, Jackie tensed up and then cried out, her body convulsing and feet stomping onto the floor wildly. He chased after his own high, the slowly formed knot in his gut threatening to burst at any moment. 

Jackie fumbled, quivering thighs struggling to maintain her weight until he had half a mind to slip one hand under her lower back and help her up. She flung her arms around his shoulder and he moved his hold onto her thighs, helping her clumsily bounce until he suddenly released, toppling them both over onto the blankets where they went limp in a tangled mess of limbs. 

"Jesus," Jackie laughed, brushing away the strands sticking to the sweat along her hairline and giving a soft whine when he dragged himself out of her and rolled over. She reached downward to cup herself, sweaty thighs pressing together, and he turned his head away from the sight as he spurted the last of his release on his lower abdomen. "You don't think one of the girls has plan b, right?"

"If you'd said something beforehand I could've swiped one of Travis's condoms. I don't think he's even using them with Natalie." 

Jackie's head whirled around to look at him, squinting through the growing darkness in disbelief. "Travis packed condoms?"

"I guess."

(Y/N) huffed out a laugh, and then couldn't stop himself from laughing some more when Jackie began giggling at the absurdity of Travis Martinez, who hardly ever even spoke to girls at school because he was always too busy sulking, packing condoms for a trip to Seattle with his father and little brother.

Their laughter died down into coughs and snickers, slowly ceasing when they gazed at each other. Jackie stared at him with crinkled eyes and slipped her hand out from between her thighs, rubbing the mixture of fluids on her dress. 

"We should do this more often." She said, but all (Y/N) could focus on was the distant sound of guttural screaming and... howling? 

He moved immediately, nerves lighting ablaze out of fear and panic for his sister, and got dressed again, almost stumbling over his legs as he struggled with the zipper. Jackie blinked at him, hurt flashing over her face before she flinched at a closer scream and scrambled to pull her dress straps over her shoulders. 

"What the fuck is that?" 

They hurried down the ladder and into the old pantry, the light from the lit fireplace shining over the group of girls in the living room attempting to corner a frantic, wide-eyed shirtless Travis. 

"What the hell are you doing?" (Y/N) hissed, bewildered at the sight of their ragged breathing and dirtied dresses.

The girls turned their heads to look at him, their eyes wide and wild, mouths twisted up into grins or snarls. Some of them swayed as if intoxicated, and even Travis looked out of his mind as he stared at empty air and muttered quietly to himself. He stared questionably at Van but she simply turned on her heel and left with Taissa.

Lottie walked toward them, her hand flying out to grab the skirt of Jackie's dress and turning it around to peer at the patch of blood staining it. She huffed out a mocking laugh and Jackie's cheeks flared red. "Stay out of it." She sneered and shoved the brunette back, her body colliding with (Y/N)'s and forcing them back into the pantry. 

"Lottie-" 

The door rattled shut with a slam, and the lock clicking followed after. There was manic giggling and the thumping of heavy footsteps he assumed belonged to Travis, and then the shrill shrieks and shouts about 'the stag' getting away before a chorus of footsteps seemingly followed after the boy. (Y/N) could only stare at the door in disbelief.

"The hell was that?"

Jackie slammed her palms into the door, pounding against it and shouting for help until her voice grew scratchy. Her body was still struggling to retain its energy and she stepped back, panicked bursts of breaths escaping her.

Getting the wild, frantic, borderline hungry look in their eyes out of his head was hard. They flashed in his mind each time he blinked, his throat seizing with confusion and worry for Van and Travis, for the girls who looked out of their minds. For Coach Ben who was easy prey with only one working leg.

"Move." He whispered, letting Jackie step aside before he rammed his shoulder into the door repeatedly, each hit making his arm sore until it began to ache.

The door groaned and creaked with each hit, rattling violently and beginning to splinter from the force until it was forced open, its rotting age betraying it. They stumbled out of the room and (Y/N) immediately took note of the missing knife, the one used for carving meat whenever Natalie and Travis managed to hunt something good enough to eat. 

As if on cue, Natalie appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. Her outfit was disheveled and dirty, and he could only begin to imagine what she'd been doing between the time they left and then. Natalie swallowed and blinked hard, looking as if she were trying to focus her vision but something was stopping her.

"Misty-" She staggered and braced herself on the door frame. "Misty put shrooms in the stew."

Jackie groaned. "Oh, my god. Of course, she did."

"Where's Travis?" Natalie's head spun as she searched the cabin. "I-I need to talk to Travis. Where's Travis?"

(Y/N) stared at the crackling fire, watched the flames lick up the stone walls and embers disappear into the chimney to be blown up into the wind with the smoke.

Maybe it would've been better if they'd all gone up in flames, he thought. It would've been better than dealing with a bunch of idiots who were too prideful to admit any wrongdoing, even if it meant ignoring the fact they would've cut Travis's throat open if Natalie hadn't intervened in time. And now they were nowhere to be found. They were probably better of that way.

Part of him wanted to shove Misty into the fireplace so she'd stop staring at him with an accusatory glint for not saying thanks to a dead bear, to Lottie for taking the creature out of its obvious misery, to 'ancient gods' and the damn dirt. It was laughable, and yet his sister encouraged it.

Misty drugged everyone who ate the damn stew, to begin with. They should've all been blaming her and her stupid crush on a man half her age who only looked at her with discomfort and pity.

Instead, half the girls chose to gang up on Jackie after Misty loudly pointed out that neither of them had said thanks. He'd mostly tuned out the argument between Jackie and Shauna as they sneered and took jabs at each other, heated revelations and insults spewing out of their mouths in hopes of twisting the knife and plunging it deeper into each other until Jackie pointed at the door. 

"Get out." She spat, intending to sound authoritative but her voice trembled with emotion, with hurt and betrayal. Shauna remained still, her chest rising and falling in deep breaths and nostrils flaring. Jackie shoved her shoulder. "Go on, get out!" 

"No."

"I can't be around you, I-I can't even fucking look at you right now."

Shauna swallowed. "Well, that sounds like your problem. So maybe you should leave."

Jackie scoffed and turned her head to look at the others, searching their faces until her head tilted toward him. She looked at him pleadingly, her hazel hues glittering with unshed tears, from the argument or lack of support, he couldn't be sure anymore, but he heaved a sigh and stood up nonetheless. 

"Nobody's going anywhere." 

"What, are you her little attack do-"

"Shut the fuck up, Mari." His head snapped toward the long-haired girl and she flinched, once smug eyes widening. His jaw ticked. "It's no fucking wonder Danny dumped you for his cousin, you don't know when to keep your mouth shut."

Predictably, she flushed a bright red and ducked her head, strands of her dark hair falling over her face to hide the shame and humiliation that sparked across her face. Only Akilah reached out to place a comforting hand over her shoulder, but even she remained quiet. It was no secret, hell, most of the girls had laughed about it at some point. They'd be hypocrites to stand up for her, and they knew it.

"Nobody's going anywhere." He repeated, enunciating each word slowly and clearly, and locked eyes with each of them to get his point across.

Lottie looked the most relaxed, her face serene and blank, like that of a mother waiting for her children to finish a pointless argument. It was unnerving, as if a switch had flickered inside her and changed her into something completely different from the quiet girl she was once.

"Winter's almost here, if not already, and the days are getting colder. We don't know how to treat hypothermia or frostbite or anything like that, so nobody is going to risk it. I don't care if you want to dance around fire and thank the trees for your food. But we're not kids anymore, not here at least. So stop bitchin' like we're in the hallways at school and start acting like you give a shit about surviving for a little longer." 

[fancyfeathers]

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

I’m thinking about Daughter!Darling and Mother!Darling spending the holidays with the Batfam and sure it is quite a nice time of year because all of the parties mean they are out of the manor more, but it also means they spend more time with their family. Dick wants to take her out places, the park for snowball fights and sledding and maybe when she is little take her to go see Santa. Jason just wants to relax, maybe wrap his little sister up in a blanket and watch a Christmas movie or read her a book before bed. Tim takes her out shopping to get her to buy presents for everyone with his money and take her out to lunch after or something. Damian didn’t really grow up celebrating the holidays so he wants to join in on his sister’s and stepmother’s traditions like making Christmas candy, which he doesn’t understand why they would want to make it themselves since it is hot and it could burn them and it could be much higher quality when someone else makes it. Stephanie, Cassandra, and even Barbara take her out shopping for a Christmas dress since that was a tradition she had with her mother and Stephanie and Cass are like her sisters now. Even Kate comes by to take her favorite girls out, and they are over at her apartment, Daughter!Darling snuggled between her mother and Kate while watching a movie. When Duke comes along he takes her ice skating since no one else will since they are scared she will fall and break something, but he’s there to protect her.

Then Bruce takes her to holiday parties and galas with him, her all dressed up in the dress Stephanie probably picked out for her, her mother on Bruce’s arm and in a dress that probably costs as much as a house. When she is little she is fawned over by all the elites, telling Bruce and her mother that their little girl looks just like a doll. When she gets older the parties get a little more bearable, because of her boyfriend sneaking her off during the parties, sneaking off outside and giving her his coat and hiding from her father and siblings.

Then there are the gifts, it’s always things they want her to like, doesn’t matter is she does or not, a set of paints, signing her up for ballet classes, taking her to get her ears pierced, a book of French poetry, you get the idea. There are only three people who get her gifts that show they actually know her, her mother, Selina Kyle, and her boyfriend even as crazy as he actually is.

Her mother remembers her own family traditions from before she married Bruce, and one of them are handing down family heirlooms and that tradition becomes very important to her daughter just like it did with her mother. So every year her mom gives her something that has been passed down through her family, an old necklace, earrings, bracelets, books, you get the idea.

Selina Kyle becomes her mother’s best friend and kind of an aunt to her daughter so on Christmas Eve when she comes to see them she discretely hands her a little box with a silver heart locket inside, she remembered overhearing that she always wanted one but didn’t want to ask her mom because her mom would get it in the blink of an eye and she already gives her the world. Just don’t ask where she got it because she may have broken her clear streak to make her happy.

Then her boyfriend, as rich as he is he knows it’s the little things that matter. So instead of some grand gesture for a present, he pulls her aside at a party and gives her a book, a scrapbook he made of photos of them with little paragraphs, letters to her and what he feels. Sometimes something handmade can be worth more than any diamond necklace. He’ll save a ring for when they get engaged along and a court of owls mask is for when they get married.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay,” he says cheerfully. “Tried YouTube yet? They’ve got tutorials for everything on there. I found a guy who taught me how to change my oil and tie a Windsor knot.” 

“Did you not know how to tie a Windsor knot?” Tim asks, both clearly puzzled and clearly a trust fund kid. 

“Naw, Bruce or Alfie always just materialized it for me whenever it came up,” Dick replies with an easy shrug. “Also had to learn how to shave from Ollie, which was definitely an experience. But Dinah taught me how to smuggle a full bottle of Jack into a bar in fishnets at the same time, which is actually really useful knowledge so remind me to pass that one on later. Donna and I literally saved most of San Francisco and our favorite coffee shop that way once. Oh, and Harvey was the one who explained taxes existed. Did not know those were a thing ‘til I was like, twenty.” 

Twenty-ish, anyway. Well, he’s twenty-three now, probably, so . . . eh, twenty-two at the latest. 

“. . . your life experiences are not universal,” Tim says after a long pause, like getting wooed with handmade nests and giant diamonds by a half-alien superclone and knowing how to tie a Windsor knot at age fifteen is somehow “universal”. No one in this conversation has been even slightly “universal” in their life experiences. 

“Are you telling Superboy about Robin yet?” Dick asks, and Tim–hesitates, a little. 

“I didn’t think it was mine to tell,” he replies carefully. “Most of the Justice League doesn’t even know about Robin.” 

“I told the Titans,” Dick replies with a shrug. “And Uncle Clark.” 

“Jason–” Tim starts, and Nightwing’s sleek feathers all instantly, involuntarily twitch. Tim cuts himself off, and Dick . . . doesn’t say anything, for a moment. 

Jason never told anyone about Robin. 

Though the Joker was pretty bored when he figured it out, apparently. A “real” person wasn’t as interesting as the mask. The mask being a mask wasn’t as interesting, maybe. 

( Dick doesn’t think about how much RAGE it puts in him, thinking about the Joker cutting Jason out of Robin’s wings and finding him BORING. thinking he was LESS than, thinking he wasn’t worth– 

it’s not the time for that. for any of that. 

it’s not. )

“You’re your own Robin,” Dick says. “It’s up to you who you tell what.” 

“I did tell Steph,” Tim says awkwardly, looking away. “Well . . . I mean . . .” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, baby bird,” Dick says. “Like I said: you’re your own Robin.” 

“But you were Robin first!” Tim practically bursts out, gesturing sharply with Robin’s wings. “And it just . . . it feels wrong, to tell people! Like it’s someone else’s secret. I only actually told Steph because I felt like I had to, if we were gonna–if we, you know–but Superboy doesn’t care whether I’m human or not, and she did, and . . . I never felt right about telling her anyway. Just because I thought I was supposed to, not because I . . . sorry. Just . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

( “I’M sorry,” Dick doesn’t say back, because he can never say that to Tim while he’s wearing Robin. 

it never ends up as him saying it to TIM, when he tries to. )

[sweetheartsaku]

—HAIKYU!! various ; how deep is your love?

a/n ; [gn!reader] kinda fem implied in kawa's and kuroo's 😓 do yall like the new layout?? c: suggestive if you squint extremely hard in kuroo's .. i honestly dont know if im writing this timeskip or pre timeskip its 3am 😣

— characters : oikawa, osamu, tsukishima, hinata, sakusa, kuroo

part 2 ! ♡ akaashi, kenma, kita, semi, kageyama, suna

jade vine !

tooru oikawa ; SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE - tyler the creator, brent faiyaz, fana huez

has 'i love you' wars and he MUST win or he will tackle you (affectionate)

takes the BEST candid photos of you and puts so much love into the following insta post. has you as his wallpaper too (please match with him) (he'd also have a highlight just w pics of you😞)

please NEVER do that 'wipe their kiss off' trend because he will actually not talk to you for DAYS and gets all sulky until you apologize. (he will get all cocky all over again)

core memory from his teamates. bae was explaining to his teamates about new volley nerd talk blablabla and they notice his nails painted in a faint pink (for a fun date night, thinking no one will notice)

issei BURSTS out laughing and instantly points it out. now seijoh4 NEVER lets him live it down

always the first person to notice when you use a new shampoo or perfume.

cuddling, (you being the little spoon╰(*´︶`*)╯♡) you can feel his breath hitch when his lips reach your neck

before you could ask why he's stopped inching closer he's already manages to whisper out, "did you start using a new shampoo?" yes. yes you have

do his skincare with him please ! he loves it. he loves when he places you on the bathroom counter and you wrap your legs around his waist, he loves when you're so gentle with the toner, he loves when you graze your delicate fingers over his beautiful long lashes, he loves when you make sure you don't cut him when snipping the face mask so it fits a little more snug, EVERYTHING. (he is sunoo coded)

osamu miya ; good looking - suki waterhouse

loves your tummy SO much. doesn't care about shape or form, he just likes the feeling that you're being fed. squish. or pat. he loves it. have i mentioned he loves your tummy?

when his dad leave the twins at home its always osamu at the stove, please keep atsumu in a 5 mile radius AWAY from the kitchen

SPOON FEEDS YOU. please i need him. on days you're too tired to move a muscle, days where you're too sick to open your eyes, be prepared to feel his hand on the back of your head and one below your chin ready to feed you!! once you've sat yourself up he feeds you so gently... osamu miya i need you

when you're really tired from work, he will send meals to your workplace. if you work at home and sees you barely able to keep an eye open, you will see his hand under a spoon of your favourite meal. he's not the best with it, but he's trying 🥹 he means it with all his heart and hearing you say the food is really warm in your stomach, his heart feels warm too (о´∀`о)

my mans is SNATCHED. slide your hands around his waist, poke it a little do WHATEVER. your hands have probably been on his waist more than his hands on yours.

i think his core is pretty well built. have we seen it in the anime or manga? maybe. but from what i've seen, his physique is very 😳 (a tad bit better than his brother's i fear)

cooking together!!! different recipes each date, basking in each other's presence. its always so fun and the results are always almost flawless!

at one-point y'all were making cupcakes, it was literally osamu baking them and you decorated it.

AND OBVIOUSLY the basic, he would routinely give you handmade onigiri, in different shapes, flavours and whatever you like ✨

kei tsukishima ; the only exception - paramore

kinda scowls at you when you put your hands under his shirt but secretly really loves it so when you slither your hands away he instantly places your hands back and make sure your hands STAY there. bonus points if you have warm body temperature. he likes the feeling of your warm hands on his slightly colder body.

his wardrobe has drastically evolved from muted tones to slightly lighter and vibrant clothing ever since you insisted on getting matching stuff!!

WILL say he is not a jewellery person but collects, keeps and takes care of all the little trinkets you give him DAILY. he has a little sticker on the edge of one of his books and a little moon sticker on the end piece of his sports glasses

he also defineitely has really thick curly blond lashes. you say they are one of his charming points but he gets all flustered. when you insist to put clear mascara on them, he doesn't really look like he has a problem with it 🥹

what could his ahh possibly be listening to with those headphones on so often (real)

sends you playlists at an insane hour that go for insane amounts of time. but i KNOW his taste is immaculate. every song always gives you goosebumps or makes your heart tighten

please do a spotify blend with him (he was gonna ask you, but you beat him to it)(he was shy)

oh AND the shared playlists actually are insane!! so much good music all at once?? crazy yall 😭😭 (wave to earth, cody fry, the smiths, daniel caesar, rex orange county)

shoyo hinata ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande

honestly, out of all these men HINATA SHOYO is the BEST candidate for taking care of a person except himself. has no limits in his stamina, and will only listen to you when you ask him maybe its time for a break. does he overwork? not necessarily. does he work too hard? yes, in a positive way. please remind him to eat because he will forget sometimes

he will NEVER admit he likes being the little spoon LMAO he finds being vunerable in your arms a tad bit silly, and it bugs him. after a long week of practice games and insisting kageyama and yachi to practice with him the instant he falls on the bed, he finds himself melting into your touch. your voice gets a little more buttery and he loves it, falling asleep instantly

hes probably a hard sleeper too 😭 he wont wake up till he feels your cold hands on his face or the sunbeams from the curtain literally bleed into the sheets and steal its colour

PLEASE STROKE HIS HAIR. he loves it. he absolutely loves it. again, melts into your touch like ice-cream. his heart will feel tight and he has a lil' blush 🥹 whats even more priceless is his lips slightly agape after hes fallen asleep... how can you NOT love this man

one of the only boys on this list who will LET you put little pink bows or style his hair in braids and clips. (if you're imagining timeskip hinata, you have attempted to put a little bow around his bicep but you underestimated its size and it BROKE. gosh what an experience)

DANCES WITH YOU EVERYWHERE!!! omg i love him so much. doesn't care if you have two left feet, he just loves the feeling in his heart when he sees your smile as he spins you around. in the rain, in big empty rooms, in the kitchen, anywhere.

loves the idea of promise rings or little trinkets that ensure he gets to have you forever!!

kiyoomi sakusa ; washing machine - VANISHING GIRL, rosemary fairweather

PLEASE braid this man's hair. 😞 he pretends to despise it and thinks you don't notice when he literally melts under your touch. he feels safe 'nd comfy and hopes it lasts forever, when your hand retracts he has a lil' pout

notices when you've been wearing your favourite hood for a couple days straight, has a little scowl under his mask and throws one of his jackets at you. he only gives you the wind-breakers that are 100% cotton or the ones he just knows you like.

he uses this as an excuse to share his clothes with you. its safe to assume its his love language under-cover!

HE IS SO ASS WITH PDA all you get is him giving you hand sanitizer before eating meals or snacks. its only you though, don't tell him that.

BUT sometimes when he feels like it, he will take your hand and put it HIS pocket so "your hands are always sheltered from germs" now what type of bs is THAT. (you love this bs)

can be snarky. sometimes he gets the slightest eenie meenie miniest bit cocky, and its very noticable. has the ability to be a little bit of a tease but not in a pestering way more like a little smartass way LMAO.

tetsuro kuroo ; never lose me - flo milli

always has his hand in the back pocket of your pants. that was it. thank you for coming to my ted talk. (to feel your butt? no idea.)

tutor sessions always unbearable. either you're too busy staring at his biceps, or you're sighing that he's made a little pop quiz for you!! tell him it sucks please

if he notices it gets a bit too much or overwhelming for you over the week or before study dates, insists to take you out instead (what a gentleman!! kuroo tetsuro come into my life)

extremely consistent with routine. good morning and good night text DAILY no matter how busy he is, he WILL find a way (i like to think its his way or the high way #kingofprovocation /hj). very good at getting the things he wants in a non-manipulative way but with simply logic and brains

yeah as captain hes no. #1 but he is also no. #1 waist CLUTCHER. his hands are always on you somehow even in the slightest way, but never pervy. he just likes having his hands on you! bonus points if you have hip dips, he loves it so much. he finds it as a perfect spot to place his hands on (btw ppl w hipdips yall are BEAUTIFUL!! 🥹)

i feel as he has a possessive side as well. small, but more noticable compared to someone else. will not hesitate to stare someone (or recite chemistry nerd stuff 🙁) down for looking at you a little too long :3

when he sees you post or sees himself in your instagram or tiktok dumps, his heart tightens a bit in the best way possible. when you mention him in the post he only reacts with a heart but he's actually going insane

[13rurururi]

♡ミ Married Life with Husband! Haganezuka Hotaru (Haganezuka x Reader SFW)

featuring six moments that will make you fall in love with him all over again

Pairing: Haganezuka Hotaru x Female!Reader

Content: SFW (but there's one suggestive line), fluff, domestic life, etc.

HUSBAND! HAGANEZUKA is a surprisingly doting lover who is never ashamed to let the world know about your love-filled union.

"My wife—"

At Hotaru's 16th use of the word 'wife,' Kotetsu begins to feel his thoughts blur into anything but the unending spew of Haganezuka's wife-related stories. The young boy feels grateful that the hard-headed smith found a life partner; however, Kotetsu's patience is falling short, and he definitely does not want to know about your 10-month anniversary dinner.

Kotetsu feels a brief sigh of relief against his mask when Kanamori strolls inside the quiet teahouse. "Ah, Haganezuka-san and Kotetsu-shounen!"

Kotetsu sees Haganezuka swivel his head to face his younger colleague, and without missing a beat, he uses 'wife' for the 17th time in that very hour.

"My wife's birthday is coming up. She keeps telling me not to get her anything, but I'll be damned if I don't." Haganezuka regards Kanamori with a short nod.

"Oh, my En-chan says the same! Regardless, I'll gift her at least a bouquet of flowers. Just this other day, I came home to give her a—"

At this point, the two men were in a whole new dimension, exchanging stories about their married life. Kotetsu once again begrudgingly thanks the heavens for allowing Haganezuka to be passionate about something other than swords, but he feels himself sink onto the table as he thinks,

"There are two of them now..."

HUSBAND! HAGANEZUKA never fails to come home to you with a gift in hand, letting you know that you are always on his mind, no matter how hectic the forge gets.

"Here," he firmly places a haphazardly wrapped present on your palms. Your body jolts at the sudden weight on your arms, and you blink up at him in curiosity. "Open it."

"Hotaru," you cutely drawl out the last syllable of his name with a pout, shaking your head at your husband's stubbornness. Your lover is a gift-giver; after all, he is a maker of many marvelous blades and trinkets. In the earlier months of your relationship, he would court you with handmade jewelry, even if you bashfully tried to tell him that you'd appreciate even just simple quality time.

Lightly blushing from the adorable glint in your eye, he repeats himself, "Open it." You do just that, and you find yourself faintly gasp in wonder at a welded flower with the most intricate design he's done yet. It's made entirely out of shiny steel, reflecting your mesmerized expression on the metallic petals as you softly caressed the pattern on the leaves.

"Flowers die too quickly," he purses his lips — a mannerism he does whenever he feels shy — and turns his body to the side. "This one should last forever."

At a loss for words, you opt to kiss him meaningfully on his his blushing cheek. "I love it."

HUSBAND! HAGANEZUKA is still as stubborn as ever. He sometimes overworks his muscles until they are cramped and tense, so you — his beloved — offer to alleviate his pains with a soothing massage. He loves it.

You see Haganezuka roll his shoulders for the 5th time that morning. The crinkle of his brows seems to furrow deeper in silent aggravation.

Silently sighing, you embrace him from behind, letting your palms press firmly on his broad shoulders. This makes him groan in a mix of pain and relief, confirming that he is under discomfort.

"You never tell me when you're hurting," your breath is against his back, and you continue to massage his hard muscles.

"It's nothing that'll drag me away from smithing." His prideful quip makes you lightly slap his shoulder in annoyance, and it only makes him bark out a chuckle.

"Let me take care of you, okay?" You tip his head towards yours and bat your eyes in an attempt to persuade him. "Let's get you to bed."

Hotaru merely huffs as his lips form a suggestive smirk. "Fine, but you know I'd want to take care of you, too, my love."

HUSBAND! HAGANEZUKA will never want to prolong your arguments and misunderstandings. He may be a prideful and headstrong man, but he acknowledges your side and your feelings, even if a little begrudgingly.

The moment your husband raises his voice at you, you turn away and head to a separate room, urging yourself to regain composure as you blink away your tears.

You're aware that he doesn't mean any harm with his gruff shouts — it's more of a habit he developed due to his social ineptitude — but you can get caught up in a flurry of petty disagreements and feel saddened by his misdirected rage.

Knock, knock, knock.

You hear knuckles softly knock on the thin wooden door of your shared bedroom. Muttering a soft 'come in,' you wipe the residual tears from your face while Hotaru stalks towards you and joins you on your Western-style bed.

"I'm sorry," he exhales through his nose as he hesitantly wraps an arm around you. To his relief, you completed the embrace and snuggled close to his chest. "You're right. I shouldn't have gotten so angry at the vendor, even if he did look at you for far too long—"

"Hotaru," you cut him off in a scolding tone. "Having you beside me is enough to ward off any danger."

You gaze deeply into each others' eyes. "Just stay by my side, and we'll be fine." You softly kiss his parted lips.

Hotaru only sighs one more time. "Okay."

HUSBAND! HAGANEZUKA is protective, and his concern for your safety is immeasurable and genuine. He'll cease his work and come join you if you wish to go somewhere during the evening. You'll never feel lonely with him as your lover.

"Where are you heading?"

You feel yourself faintly jump at the sound of your husband's voice. You gaze at him as he shifts from his usual spot in the forge, a half-finished katana laying behind him.

He's been engulfed in his craft for the past 3 hours, staying completely silent and diligently focused on smithing; you simply didn't expect him to do anything else for the next few hours.

"I just want to walk outside for a while," you begin to open the sliding door to exit, but your movements are ceased when you see Haganezuka fully stand up from his station and walk towards you.

"Darling, you still have a sword to finish—"

"It's nearly nighttime. Don't be stupid." You try to protest but he stays rooted by your side. "I'm not leaving you alone."

With a bemused huff, you find yourself smile at the bulky masked man walking next to you.

You definitely feel much safer with Hotaru.

HUSBAND! HAGANEZUKA never leaves your home or sleeps without telling you he loves you. He shows it through his actions, but he regards the simple words as devoted declarations he will never forget to remind you of.

Haganezuka rises from slumber before the sun even fully peaks through the valley. It's part of his dedication to his duties as a swordsmith — the only downside is how he barely gets to spend slow mornings with you.

After firmly wrapping his scarf over his head, he stares at your sleeping figure behind his Hyottoko mask, and he feels nothing but rampant swirls of adoration and love.

He sits down next to you, his weight causing you to stir in your sleep. Lifting his battered and calloused palm towards your cheek, he caresses you softly with a smile behind his mask.

"I love you, and I cannot imagine a world without you." He adjusts his mask and kisses your forehead. "I love you."

Before he can entirely leave the bed, he feels your gentle grip tug on his arm. He looks at your smiling, half-asleep face as you whisper,

"I love you, too, Hotaru." You beckon him for another kiss, and he dips down to do just that.

At that moment, Haganezuka was certain — there won't ever be a life where you wouldn't be reborn as each others' lovers. He swears in his heart that he shall always be yours, as long as you allow him to be.

a/n: I miss Haganezuka a lot. Have some domestic fluff of him! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! ☆

[mc-lukanette]

Luka didn't consider himself particularly stupid, but he probably could've caught on earlier to what was going on. In his (weak) defense, Marinette had always been generous with her gifts.

Their friend group wasn't very large: it was him, Marinette, his sister Juleka, Ivan, and Rose. It was also common for them to give each other gifts even if it wasn't their birthday, just to show they cared.

Ivan, for example, gave him a CD one day. It was from a band he didn't recognize, but he was always open to hearing something new. Ivan had that exact thought, knowing he probably hadn't heard it but figuring he might like it. Luka appreciated it.

Then, only a couple days later, Marinette brought him a set of CDs, all from relatively new bands who'd yet to make a name for themselves. Perhaps that should've been suspicious to him, but they'd initially bonded over music in the first place and she was the designer for his band.

Still, he couldn't help commenting, "You didn't have to spend this much on me, Marinette."

"Oh, this?" She shook her head. "This is nothing! I had extra money from some commissions I did!"

There wasn't any sign of a lie. He smiled, thinking how it would be rude to reject the gift in that case. "Okay. Thanks for thinking about me."

She beamed with pride, and something else he couldn't quite place.

—————

The next gift was from Rose. She'd called his name in a sing-song voice and presented him with a thick, fluffy scarf. It was going to get cold soon and the insulation of the houseboat was only so-so.

She didn't hesitate to point out the absurd length either, which Luka had noticed but thought it polite not to comment on. Pointing at it from end to end when he held it stretched out, she didn't bother hiding the fact that it could be used as a "scarf for two."

Gently, he'd reminded her that he and Marinette were not together, nor was he interested in any sort of scheming to make it so. He was perfectly happy being friends and didn't want to push anything on her that she might not want.

It was that same train of logic making him believe that Marinette giving him a handmade scarf, less than a week later, was probably a coincidence.

Probably.

—————

Juleka made plushies of the five of them during art club: soft, carefully stitched together, and absurdly cute. She handed each friend's matching plush when they were all together and blushed when Rose insisted they trade because she wanted the Juleka plush. Luka, meanwhile, placed his atop the speaker next to his bed, impressed when it sat upright all by itself.

It felt like no time at all before Marinette brought along her own handmade plush to show him: himself in his Kitty Section costume.

"It's merchandise!" she explained excitedly, flipping the mask a few times and wiggling the guitar to show that they weren't stuck on the plush itself. "It's just a prototype, but I wanted you to have the first."

Using him as the prototype made sense. He was the oldest, even if only minutes older than his sister, and there was an unspoken agreement that he was the "leader." Decisions about the band tended to go through him as the final, most important voice, and he often spoke for all of them when in public.

The thing that tipped him off, however, was that Marinette was thorough. He would've expected her to drop a full set in front of him, a plan for how to market them, and a sketch of what the best place to sell them would be whenever they played somewhere, just for good measure.

Of course, he wasn't going to say any of that out loud and he loved it anyway, but something felt strange.

—————

"...Marinette," Luka said patiently.

She was all smiles and innocence, practically hopping in place as she held out the tiny jewelry box to him. "I just thought it'd be nice to have another set of earrings to wear!"

That sounded fine enough on its own. He supposed it'd be boring to play the same song over and over again, but this was her first attempt at making jewelry and she was giving it to him. There was something so obviously special about that, yet she was playing it off casually.

Taking the box and looking at the earrings themselves only made it more apparent. It wasn't just some jewelry she'd done up as a test and barely thought about the design of.

The earrings were simple, but clearly themed: a flower on each, but crotchet rests for leaves and a whole note as the center. There was no reasoning of merchandise or just trying something out this time; these were made with him in mind.

And, going off of the flower design, a little bit of herself too.

"This is a lot," he pointed out, and even that felt like an understatement.

She softened, sympathetic. Raising her hands up, she assured, "You don't have to wear them if you don't want to! I already thought that your earrings might mean something to you, so—"

"No," he cut in immediately, catching the misunderstanding. "I meant that you've been giving me so many gifts. You don't have to."

"Huh? But I do," she began as she straightened her back, glaring with determination and clenching her hands tightly into fists, "if I want to get that best friend spot!"

"What?"

He blinked at her, wide-eyed at the sudden declaration. Marinette herself only realized what she said a second later, her posture turning to a slump as she groaned into her hands.

Part of him thought about letting it go, but he was too invested in how important this was to her. He leaned in, asking softly, "Best friend spot?"

She lowered her hands just enough to look at him, then sighed and dropped them at her sides. "Juleka and Rose are already best friends, and Ivan has Mylene, so..." She flicked her wrist in his direction as if to say, 'well, you know.'

Luka did know now, but it hit him like a truck. He flashed back to times of the group playing video games together and the way Marinette's competitive spirit came out, quite literally, to play.

That expression he couldn't quite place all this time and her giving him so many gifts suddenly made sense: she'd been "competing" to take the role of his best friend. There wasn't even anyone to compete with, and she'd known that, yet something so basic held value to her to the point of seeing it as something to "win."

Luka turned his head away and covered his mouth with a hand. He wanted to laugh, but didn't want to give her the idea that he found her efforts something to laugh at. No, it was simply that it was the cutest thing he'd ever heard and it was taking actual effort not to say that out loud.

"A-ah? Luka!" Marinette called, leaning to try and catch a glimpse of his expression.

He went to speak, but remembered the hand covering his mouth and lowered it. Grinning at her, he replied, "You've already got the part."

"The part?" she repeated, then grew excited when what he meant hit her. "Really?"

Cute. So cute. The absolute cutest. How'd she been friendless for so long before meeting him and the others was beyond his understanding.

"What did it?" she pressed. "The CDs? The scarf? The plush? The earrings? It was the earrings, right?"

He shook his head, unable to stop smiling, and didn't elaborate beyond, "It's you." Then, staring down adoringly at the earrings in their little jewelry box, he added, "But I do want to wear these. Can you put them in for me?"

She was still in shock, but shook herself out of it to answer him. "O-oh, sure..."

She took the jewelry box back and he turned around to take out his earrings. He knew it wasn't like he was getting undressed in front of her or anything, but he was learning quickly that even he had limits for how long he could deal with her pretty face saying pretty things.

He removed both earrings, then heard a tiny pecking noise from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Marinette, turned away from him but not enough that he couldn't see the kiss she gave one of the earrings.

He could hear a pounding in his ears, clutching his earrings tight in his hands to feel them poking into his skin, just to make sure this was real.

—————

Luka honestly - perhaps foolishly - thought things would remain like that: with them being "officially" (whatever that meant) best friends and Marinette not feeling like she had to compete with it. She did take the hints that the gifts weren't necessary, and thus gift giving had returned to their usual back and forth.

He hadn't considered anything further than that.

One day, Juleka and Rose were preparing to go on a long walk together, off to a place they hadn't been before. Luka knew they'd be alright, but gave his sister a cheek kiss in a silent wish for luck and safety.

He felt a pair of eyes on him at that moment, but Rose was busy excitedly putting semi-random objects in her bag for the "trip." Also, what was the sudden sense of foreboding going up his spine?

Juleka and Rose waved goodbye and departed the Liberty, Ivan having already left a while ago to see Mylene. Knowing that left only one possibility, Luka glanced over his shoulder to see Marinette, sitting on an instrument case and looking his way.

Immediately, she dropped her gaze to her lap, pouting.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, walking over to her. "We're best friends. You can tell me anything if you want to."

"I-it's nothing," she insisted when it was clearly not nothing. "It makes sense. She's your sister, so it works differently."

Utterly lost, he merely blinked at her, mind racing to understand what had her sulking like she was. It was only when she brought a hand up, her fingertips idly skimming her cheek, that it registered.

"...You want me to kiss you on the cheek?" He sat down next to her, turning towards her as much as possible without their legs brushing.

She blushed, but answered noncommittally, "If you want?" Her voice lowered as she mumbled more to herself than him. "My skin probably isn't as nice anyway. I bet Juleka uses a lot of moisturizer."

Evasive as it was, her position was clear: he was doing something with Juleka that he wasn't doing with her, and thus she was "losing." She wanted him to do things with her that he'd do with anyone else, and maybe even more than that. In his personal opinion, that wasn't being best friends, but—

Well, point being, he was happy to "prove" that they were best friends if these were the standards to hold to.

He leaned over, pressing a light kiss to her cheek that was slightly longer than the one he'd given Juleka, just to be safe. Marinette still smelled faintly of strawberries and coconut, a scent he'd long grown fond of whenever she'd press herself against him in her eagerness to show him something.

He could also confirm that her skin was actually very nice.

She stiffened, mouth dropping open in surprise that he'd actually done it, then delight. A little giggle-hum came out of her as she rested her hands in her lap, looking absurdly pleased with herself.

Luka wasn't sure how she always did that. She was unpredictable, even when he felt he knew her, and was practically preening from a little kiss on the cheek. It was such an easy thing for him to do, but it meant something to her.

His role in the band as "leader" hadn't been self-designated, as he'd always been fine playing in the background if need be. He had no need for attention, fame, and the like. Marinette was different though, and not at all in a bad way.

She was making him center stage, showing him again how much impact his presence had. He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky.

"Ah," Marinette began even though that wasn't really a word, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was trying to be "cool" about all this, but that was hard to do when she swayed from side to side, her prior pouting swallowed up in her bliss. "You don't have to worry about the earrings, by the way."

"Hm?"

She pointed at one of his earrings - the ones she made for him - and clarified, "I'll make you another pair if you ever get bored of them."

He'd done such a good job at not chuckling at how cute she was, but that finally made him snort. She raised a brow at the reaction and he grinned, pointing out, "That won't work."

"Why not?" She leaned in, genuinely curious.

He reached up to the earrings, affectionately stroking the delicate lines of the flower she designed. "I won't get bored of them. If you make me another pair, I'll just get my ears pierced again."

"Wh—" She shook her head in disbelief, having expected a more practical answer like 'you shouldn't be making me more earrings on a whim.' "You can't do that!"

He shrugged unapologetically, because he absolutely could do that, and he would. Maybe he could make an appointment sometime soon just to prove it.

Shoulders tense in her defiance, she challenged, "And if I get you another pair after that?"

As if it were obvious - and it was to him - he replied easily, "I'll get them pierced again."

"You'll run out of room eventually!"

"I have other places I could get pierced."

She was looking deadly, comically serious about all of this. She brought a fist up to her mouth, her eyes darting all over him like there might be a big sign hanging on him, saying that he didn't mean it.

He wasn't sure what she was actually looking for, but when she made eye contact again, there was something familiar; something blazing behind her gaze.

With her other hand, she reached out and snagged his sleeve. Her pull was strong, bringing him close enough to where he could feel her little huff against his skin. Then and there, she kissed his skin back, right next to his lips.

It was like a tiny lightning bolt hitting him, sparks spreading out all along his face and down his neck. He couldn't tell if the warmth was from her or his face heating up.

Her hand left his sleeve and pressed against his chest, putting him at arm's length to her. Her own cheeks were red, but that fire in her eyes was still there: her competitiveness.

Looking away from him, she stood up quickly and shouted, "W-we'll see!"

Then she ran off further into the Liberty, as if to flee from the bold move. It didn't serve the purpose of actually running away - he lived there - nor did it clarify on what they would "see" about, but it at least gave him a moment to think.

He'd thought before that she hadn't had any competition to be his best friend, which was still true. He couldn't have imagined anyone who could've taken that place but her, so the only obstacle after that was saying it out loud as far as he was concerned, and they'd done that.

But now there was a second competition he hadn't been aware of, whether that was being the best best friend or whatever else she was aiming for. Regardless, she did have an opponent - him - and he'd seen how merciless she could be when it came to competitions.

One thing was for sure: he was in so much trouble.