#their banter is never-ending even after all this

[trashytracktales]

Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*

Think twice | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀

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𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025

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THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.

The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.

It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.

Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.

Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.

Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.

“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.

“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.

Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.

“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.

But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”

Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.

“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”

Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.

“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.

He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.

She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.

Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.

Want, being the keyword.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.

Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.

He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.

He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.

She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.

Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.

When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.

“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.

Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.

She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”

He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.

Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.

“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.

She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.

“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”

The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”

He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.

They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.

Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.

Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.

Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”

“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.

His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”

His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.

She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.

Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?

His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.

The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.

She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.

It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.

“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.

“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”

She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”

His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”

Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”

His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”

The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.

And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.

He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”

Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.

Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.

And now?

“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.

She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”

He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.

Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”

He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”

Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.

Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.

Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.

“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.

When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”

Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.

Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.

His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”

With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.

Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”

She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t—” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.

As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”

Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”

The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.

Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.

His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.

“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.

As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.

Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.

In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”

Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.

By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.

“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.

Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.

“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.

His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.

Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”

Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.

Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.

“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.

Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.

“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.

The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”

Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.

“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”

Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.

Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.

It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.

When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.

Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”

He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.

After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.

He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.

The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[romanticsleep]

could i request general dating head canons for silver?? there’s such a lack of silver fics and i fear i may crash out from this silver drought

ofc!!! i love writing for silver !! he deserves more recognition :d

Dating hcs with silver <3

┊➤ 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲; 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐆

┊➤ 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭; 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑

┊➤ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

first of all, i think it’d take him a while to confess to you, but only because it’d take him forever to comprehend that he has feelings for you. I mean, he’s never felt like this towards anyone before, not that he had the chance to anyway.

what made it obvious though, was how fidgety he was, him stumbling over his words, and of course, him not being able to even hold eye contact for too long.

if he did try to hold eye contact, he’d just be even more of a flustered mess.

when it comes to dating, he’s definitely on the more clingier side.

he just loves to be around you, honestly, you don’t even have to say a single word and he’d still be happy.

however, it might become just a bit overwhelming with how much he’d hover over you 24/7.

all you have to do is tell him, and he won’t hesitate to give you space.

he’ll just be a bit sad…and maybe try to guilt trip you with puppy eyes and a frown so that you’ll let him in your personal bubble again.

but he means no harm, he swears! he just has to make sure you still love him, and not hate his guts.

getting into arguments with silver would be pretty rare, most of the time it would just be playful bantering, in fact, he tends to completely avoid it out of fear of upsetting you.

if you do get into an argument however, with him being at fault, he’d just sit there with his ears flat against his head with a frown, avoiding eye contacts and looking straight at the ground.

that usually leads to you feeling bad and comforting him at the end of the day.

you could never stay mad at him for too long, especially with the way he’d try to make it up to you with flowers, candy, just anything he knows that you’d love.

even if the argument was forever ago, it’d still linger in his mind.

silver tends to get insecure at times about the relationship. he can sometimes doubt that he’s enough for you.

he just needs a bit of reassurance from time to time. after that, everything would be water under the bridge!

he loves you so much, so please don’t leave him.

┊𝐄𝐍𝐃

[mzenins]

❛ far from a couple (of besties) ! ❜ ✶ ࣪˖࿐ * satoru gojo

꒰ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ──── contents: sfw, gn reader, friends to potential lovers, reader is a teacher at jujutsu tech, banter, black cat x golden retriever combo with a small side of yearning

“how come you never want to hold my hand in public?”

you take a long sip of your lemonade refresher, feeling your thirst automatically quenched by the cold drink. the ice cubes clinked against the glass and the warm spring breeze gently whistles, filling the small momentary silence.

as you reach the end of your drink, you prolong the activity as long as possible by intentionally slurping on the straw rather slowly and swishing around the remainder of the drink in your mouth before gulping down.

the glass hits the table with a light thud, “not this again.” you sigh, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed over your chest.

“yes this again!” satoru exclaims with a small whine in his tone. he leans forward on the patio table, his hands flat on the surface.

grabbing lunch with satoru had its ups and downs. while you appreciated his generosity of inviting you out to eat with him —even offering to pay for the joint meals— and his vast knowledge of different cuisines and restaurants, moments like these damper the mood.

his knack for constantly talking about anything and everything instead of enjoying the meal and your company in silence soured the activity for you.

the days where he personally ventured out for you after his lessons with his students were arguably the worse; looking high and low in different locations of the establishment just to link arms with you and drag you away from whatever you were occupied with at the moment.

today was one of those days.

he shifts idly in his seat, “i just don’t get it— i mean, it’s not like a little hand holding is gonna hurt anyone~” a small grin tugs at the corners of his mouth due to the scowl that was present on your face.

you scoff, “i don’t even hold your hand in private why would i hold it in public?” you lean in forward against the table coming face to face with satoru as he sat across from you. you try to flick his forehead but he puts up his infinity before you get the chance, making your planned attack useless.

satoru has been pretty adamant on this oddly specific subject. saying how if you two were to “platonically hold hands” it’ll strengthen your friendship with each other. even going on about how him, shoko and nanami did it and now they’re the closest they’ve ever been.

however, you inquired to shoko about the accuracy of this statement and she looked at you dumbfounded which told you everything you already knew.

he evades your question and gasps. “don’t tell you’re afraid of physical touch, that might be a problem for future partner,” he quips.

he takes a small slip at his water and hums, “don’t you just love h2o. it’s the best, right?”

you can feel a vein in your forehead become more prominent as the scowl on your face deepens,“sure. i’m a big fan,” you deadpanned.

you tilt your head and raise a brow, “how does my love life correlate to me not wanting to hold your hand?”

you can see him attempt and fail to contain his piqued interest. you’re finally asking him the right questions.

“i’m so glad you asked!” he stabs his fork into his desert, a strawberry covered cheesecake, and silently notions the fork towards you, offering a bite. you decline by shaking your head and he shrugs, taking the bite instead.

“if you can’t even hold hands with a friend how do you expect to get all touchy with your significant other, hm?”

he stumps you a bit with the question. there’s a thin line between a friend and a romantic partner, but with having a significant other also comes with a gained friendship. while you’re not touchy with most of your friends, you still hold respect for them and put enough effort to maintain those bonds.

physical touch has never been a problem for you. it’s something you don’t really mind but would pick another love language over it in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity.

before you could answer him, he speaks up. “all i’m saying is that i would make good practice so when your knight in shining amour comes around, you already know what to do.” he’s lowers his head as he peeks at you from above the small cracks of his sunglasses.

the gears shift rapidly in your head, noticing inconsistency. you narrow your eyes at him, “but wait, i thought you said us holding hands would “strengthen our bond?” where’s all this other stuff coming from?”

satoru freezes his movements. fork in mid air nearing his opened mouth. he slowly takes a bite and swallows nervously, he clears his throat, “..let’s just say we’d be killing two birds with one stone.”

“sureee..” suspicious laced in your voice, “but that won’t be necessary. we’re adults, practicing stuff like that, like we’re middle schoolers, is strange to say the least.”

satoru frowns at your words. “you’re never too young or old to learn and practice new things.”

“true but holding hands isn’t a new concept to me, satoru.”

the waitress soon comes into view at your table and asks if you’d like to close your tab. before satoru can answer with an expected ‘no’, you interject, asking for a takeout container for his cheesecake and the bill.

you let out an agitated huff while gathering your items, “we’re running late for training again. almost every time we eat out, we spend way longer than expected.”

he snickers and takes out his wallet from his pocket, “yet you don’t show too much resistance when i bring you out.” he smugly bites at his lip.

“that’s because you force me out, i don’t have much of a choice.” you kick his foot with yours under the table in annoyance and your blow presumably lands as you hear a small grunt from him.

“oh please, you would’ve been eating away at those stale donuts in the staff room everyday if it weren’t for me.” he pays for both of your meals and the two of you venture back to the school.

the walk back is surprisingly silent. something you longed for the whole day, however, it became unnerving after a few long minutes. you speak up, breaking the silence. “by the way, i’m choosing the restaurant next time.”

satoru chuckles sarcastically, “oh? there’ll be a next time? lucky me i guess. and here i thought you didn’t enjoy my company.”

“oh my gosh will you shut the hell up.” you roll your eyes biting the inside of your cheek to hide away a forming smile.

© mzenins, all rights reserved … reblogs & feedback is welcomed.

[gr1m-c0l0rs]

My WHB!MC’s relationship with the Kings

OVERVIEW: To Sunny, his relationship between the devils is strictly fwb, mainly because of his insecurity that the reason the devils only like him is because they see him as Solomon and not as his own person—no matter if the devils say otherwise. She does have a slight crushes on all of them and had thoughts about staying, but she quickly pushed down these feelings. Sunny really doesn’t want to stay in Hell for the rest of his life but he also doesn’t want to pull a Solomon and leave them forever (which sets up for future angst potential >:))

SATAN:

The first devil Sunny met and the first devil that got really close to

Helped Sunny realize that she was a sadomasochist (never really explored outside of vanilla sex with her other sexual partners on Earth)

Constantly has flirty banter with each other

Sunny gets really irritated easily which Satan loves, following behind him to egg him on so Sunny could hit him

Sunny retaliates by picking him up by his waist and teasing him on how small he is (of course this pisses him off a lot

MAMMON:

Literal sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship

Sunny gets incredibly flustered around him, not used to being spoiled

Tries to reciprocate by it’s kinda hard as she don’t have money (which she is embarrassed by, but Mammon finds endearing)

Was weirded out being called “Master”, constantly reiterating to Mammon to just call him Sunny, but eventually gave up and ended up loving being called it (big dominant looking men calling you master>>>)

Slightly jealous of how strong Mammon is, constantly teetering between “do I want him? Or do I wanna be him?”

LEVIATHAN:

Absolutely DESPISED Leviathan we they first met, especially since they tried to kill him when they first met.

Sunny thought he was ethereal at first, but when he tried to kill her, Levi went from a 10/10 to -3/10

They constantly bicker and hate-fuck sometimes

After learning about Levi’s childhood, Sunny did feel a little bit of sympathy about his situation; still has Levi’s name as “fuckface” on his contact list

Gradually becoming soft for Levi (so is Levi as well to Sunny) but wouldn’t dare admit it (not yet at least)

LUCIFER:

Sunny was absolutely terrified after meeting Luci, especially after learning that he still has beef with his whole bloodline due to Solomon

After eloping with him, Sunny became a little more comfortable with him (still a bit of underlying fear tho)

Tries to be polite and quiet around him, talking to Luci like a doctor and not like a best friend (goofs around with Gamigin whenever he goes to Paradise Lost tho)

Sunny likes to listen to his stories about God, Heaven & Hell

Always asks Luci if she could visit to have tea with him, whenever he gets overwhelmed by the other devils

BEELZEBUB:

Practically shares the same braincell

Sunny only saw Beel as a horny goofball until he learned the real reason why he wanders around, and now feels guilty for thinking that he didn’t have depth

Flirty banter pt. 2

After finding out that Sunny used to party on Earth, Beel always make sure to take him out whenever he gets stressed out about angels

Sunny likes to leave little trinkets and food in his coat pocket that is covered in his scent as a way to thank him (something Beel appreciates even though he wants the real deal.

BELPHEGOR:

Was really indifferent about Belphie at first but sees him as a cool dude to hang out with occasionally

His “don’t care” attitude annoys Sunny sometimes but brushes it off

Sleeping buddy (literally)

Watches anime at Belphie’s palace, and discusses about it with him (even if it’s a short amount of time)

When not cuddling, Sunny likes to help Beleth with work (sometimes even carrying Belphie on her back since he’s warm and squishy ‘like a pillow’)

ASMODEUS:

Sunny was (understandably) afraid hearing the stories about Asmo

After meeting him, Sunny ends up becoming slightly annoyed with Asmo’s antics

Sunny constantly threatens to spray Asmo with a hose (especially after finding out he doesn’t shower) which Asmo laughs it off

Likes listening to him gushing about his kids

Sunny feels nothing but sympathy about the loss of his first love Solomon and his second love, his wife, but doesn’t have the heart to break his heart a third time

HEIGHT COMPARISON:

[samanthacastano02]

Seungmin - Christmas Love (18+)

Seungmin x FemReader

Warnings: Smut, PnV, Unprotected sex (Don’t do(Use protection)), Breeding Kink, Oral (fem rec), Making love, Fingering, talks of pregnancy, reader is pregnant in epilogue (epilogue isn't important to the story so you don't have to read it, you wont miss anything important, just some banter between all the members), Cursing, probably more, MDNI 18+

Photos not mine, credits go to the photographers

Word Count: 4845

Summary: Seungmin comes home from doing his Chanel photoshoot, his outfit turns you on to no end. You decide to take things to the bedroom, having fun with each other. Things take a romantic turn and you and Seungmin forgo the condom. (I have no idea to write a summary for this) 

Minors Do Not Interact

It was late but I knew that Seungmin would be home soon from his Chanel photoshoot. He had said that I could go with him but my week had been busy and I wanted to stay home and relax for a little while. I knew that he was slightly disappointed but would never hold that against me, and there was always next time. I was lounging on the couch watching a random k-drama when he walked through the front door, slipping off the nice dress shoes he had on and slipping on his house slippers. When he walked into the living room he stopped in shock when he saw that I was still awake, I was so engrossed into the show that I hadn’t even heard him come home. 

“Love what are you still doing awake?”

“Jesus Seungminnie, you scared me, warn a girl.”

“Sorry love. Must be a good show if you’re that into it.” he said as he walked over to the couch, lifting me up gently while sitting down, cuddling me into him. He may seem off standish with his band members but this man hates to not have some type of skinship with me.

“It’s very good, how was the shoot? I love the outfit that they have you in.”

“It was good, I knew that you would love it.” he said while kissing my forehead.

“Stay’s going to go crazy when they see it, you know that right?” “Oh, I know that. The stylist and I were joking about that while we were leaving. Did I tell you that her boyfriend finally proposed?” “Finally?! After what, seven years?” 

“Yep, she said that she was going to send us a wedding invite whenever they get the wedding date set.”

“I’m excited and happy for her. She deserves to have the best day ever, she's been a godsend for dealing with your dumbass for the last four years.”

“My wife must hate me.” he feigned dramatically

“Minnie, you are so dramatic.” I kissed his cheek, he feigned being upset by shoving his face into my neck. 

“Why must you hate me?”

“You’re a dork.” ‘But I’m your dork.” he kissed my neck repeatedly.

“Minnie stop that tickles.” “Never, I'm gonna do it even more now.” he continues to kiss my neck, I try to wiggle out of his arms to escape but in the process he tightens his arms around me.

“Minnie.” I sigh on accident when he kisses my sweet spot.

“You're a tease, wiggling.”

“You’re the one who was kissing me, I was just trying to escape.” I try to defend myself as he slowly continues kissing my neck, no longer in a teasing manner. I tilt my head back, giving him better access.

“Mhm, sure.” he begins to kiss my neck to my jaw. Slowly my body was getting more and more heated. 

“Seungmin please.”

“Please what, my love.” “I want more.” “More what?”

“You're going to make me say it aren’t you.”

“Always.” “I want you. Can we please move this to the bedroom?” I whine into his chest, trying to hide my face from him.

“Of course my love.” He grabs my chin gently, tilting my head up towards him. He kisses my lips softly. Before I can even respond he’s standing up with me in his arms and walking us towards our bedroom. I lean my head on his shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the exposed skin as his shirt moves. 

When we enter the bedroom he gently lays me on the bed, he stares down at me with so much love and compassion that it brings tears to my eyes because I know that this man would do anything for me and I would do anything for him. He gently crawls onto the bed over top of me, looking at me deep in the eyes. 

“You are so beautiful Jagi.”

“Minnie, I love you.” I blush brightly at his words. 

“I love you, beautiful. Can I take this off?” He tugs at my sweatshirt, that happened to actually be his, that I had been wearing.

“Yes, please.” I respond quickly, he soon wastes no time in dragging the sweatshirt over my head and throwing it somewhere across the room, knowing that we’ll find it in the morning. 

“God I can never get enough of your body, do you see what you do to me?” he asks me, he pushes his hips into me to prove his point even more. I grab onto the sides of his shirt, hinting that I want it off. With quick work he drags it over his head, leaving him in his black dress pants and me in my sweats. 

“If stays were in my position, they’d lose their ever loving mind. I don’t think they’d be able to handle how hot you are.” I say while tugging on the necklaces that he still had on, wanting to kiss him. He was blushing fiercely, hiding his face in my neck again, leaving open mouthed kisses. 

“No one but you gets to see me this way, this is a privilege only meant for you my love.” he begins leaving kisses down my body. Starting at my cheek and working his way down to my neck and ending at my sweatpants right above my pantie line. 

“My love, can I take these off?” he gently tugged at the hem of my sweats.

“Yes, please baby please.”

With quick work he tugged them off, quickly throwing them behind him. They disappeared so quickly that I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Seungmin looked up at me while I was laughing, he didn’t know what I was laughing at but he started laughing with me. 

“My love, what are we laughing at?”

“Just at how eager you were to take off my pants.”

“I mean can you blame me, you have on my favorite pair of your panites. Your lacie black pair, it’s like you wanted me to ruin you tonight.” “I mean maybe I wanted to get lucky tonight, but not necessarily ruined.”

“Love, you know that any time you wear these, you're getting ruined.” I look at him, laugh and roll my eyes at him. He just smirks at me and begins to leave kisses up the sides of my thighs. 

“You know, it’s not fair that I’m pantsless while you still have pants on.”

“If you wanted me to take my pants off all you had to do was ask.” He smirked at me while standing up to take off his dress pants. When he slid them off, his arousal became much more prominent. 

“Shut up and come here.” I make grabby hands at him, he just chuckles at me and climbs back over me, nudging my legs apart so that he can slot his hips between them. He gently rests his hips at the apex of my thighs, allowing me to actually feel just how turned on he is. 

He leans down and begins to kiss me, wrapping his arms around me. I feel him unclip my bra with one hand, so I arch my back so that he can remove it which leaves me only in my panties. As we continue to kiss he begins to grind himself into me, causing both of us to moan out in pleasure.

“Seungmin please, I want more.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you.” “You gotta be specific, love.”

“Anything, just please do something.” he seems to get an idea, as he begins to kiss down to my panties. Soon he reaches my panty line but skips over them and begins kissing my thighs, starting at my knee and kissing up until he's almost at where I want him before stopping and then he switches over to the other leg, kissing up that leg until he stops just shy of where I want him.

“What do you want my love?”

“I want your mouth, please.” “Can I take these off?” he tugs at my panties.

“Yes, god please.”

I think he’s gonna take them off with his hands but he shocks me by biting the top of them with his teeth and dragging them down before finally pulling them off and spreading me wide for him. He looks at me like I’m his next meal and I begin to shake with excitement because I know what’s to come. He throws my panties across the room to where the rest of our clothes are and then looks up at me for permission, I give him a quick nod. That’s all he needs before he dives in, his mouth immediately attaches to my clit. He sucks it into his mouth, licking at it and prodding at my entrance before moving back to my clit. He eats me out like it’s his last meal, he knows all of the right places and it feels so good that I can’t keep quiet even if I tried, not that I want to. I soon feel fingers prodding at my entrance, before they push into me. He angles his fingers just right that it’s hitting my sweet spot, making me see stars. I moan loudly at the pleasure that he’s bringing me, he never gives me his cock before making me finish on his fingers and tongue, both he and I don’t enjoy quickies so we don’t do anything unless we have time for it. That doesn’t mean that we don’t tease each other though. Soon I hear him moaning along with me and I muster up enough strength to look down at him between my legs and see that he is grinding himself down on the bed while eating me out, I moan out loudly at that. He has always gotten off on bringing pleasure, he always said that my pleasure was his pleasure. He could always finish just by making me finish. He repeatedly hit my sweet spot and soon I could feel the pressure in my stomach building to its peak, I knew that I was close.

“Oh god Seugnmin. I’m close, please don’t stop.” at that he seemed to suck harder but kept his fingers going at the same pace. There was a new feeling and I felt like I had to pee, I tried to push his head away but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Seungmin!” I moan his name loudly as I finish, squirting all over his mouth and chin. He pulls away from me with a lazy smile. 

“Minnie, I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, why are you sorry?” “I don’t know what my body just did.”

“Baby, you just squirted.”

“What!”

“It’s ok, it was hot as fuck.” I didn’t have a response for him, so I just leaned up, kissing him on the lips. Tasting myself as he deepened the kiss, pushing me back so that I was laying down again. He came to hover over me again, he looked like a god over me. 

“Do you want to continue?” “Yes, please.”

With my response he got off of the bed and took off his underwear, his cock sprang free and smacked his lower stomach. No matter how many times we have sex, I always get excited by how big he is. He’s big and he knew how to use it, and he had the stamina of a dancer and could go for hours if he wanted to. He began to walk over to the nightstand, reaching for the box of condoms that we kept there but I grabbed his wrist before he could pull the drawer open. 

“Love?” “What if we maybe didn’t use a condom tonight?” “But you aren’t on any form of birth control?” He asked, confused.

“I know, I was sort of thinking. We’ve been married for two years, it might be nice to have a little you or me.” “Are you saying what I think your saying?” “I want to start trying for a family Seungmin.” I say hopeful. “Really?” “Yes, I know it’s a big decision. I know we haven’t talked about it much, it’s ok if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Forget I mentioned anything.” I panicked, reaching for the drawer with the condoms and began to pull one out but he grabbed my wrist stopping me.

“My love, if you are sure, I would love nothing more than to have a family with you.” he looked into my eyes to see if there was any doubt, but he didn’t find any.

“I’m sure Seungmin, I want this with you. I know that you are still touring but Chan has offered time and time again for me to join you guys and the guys would probably be over the moon to have me on tour, and when the baby got here they’d be the best uncles.” “”If you’re sure, then so am I.” He got onto the bed, kissing me sweetly. 

“I’m sure Seungmin.”

With that he slowly positioned his cock head at my entrance, he locked eyes with me as he pushed himself into me. The stretch of him shocked me everytime, he still went slow, going inch by inch until his hips were flush with mine. He dropped down to his elbows, sliding his hands under my head but keeping his arms out to support himself, it was soon obvious that this wasn’t going to be fast and rough like our usually fucking. It was going to be sweet and slow, not fucking but love making. He was looking into my eyes with so much love that it took my breath away. 

“God, y/n I love you so much.”

“I love you Seungmin. You can move.” With that he slowly began to pull out, pulling out until only the tip of him was left, before he slowly thrust back into me. He thrust hard enough that it felt good but not hard enough that it would be considered hard fucking

“You feel so good, so tight.” “You're so deep.” 

“You take me so we.” He pressed down on my stomach, intensifying the pleasure for both of us. At the same time we both moaned when he thrust into me.

“Seungmin!” I moan out loudly. He picks up the pace a little, but not by much enough that the bed is rocking into the wall.

He continues to thrust into me, focusing on making me finish before he finishes. He sucks love bites into the side of my neck and top of my chest. The pleasure was so intense that I could barely keep my eyes open but I wanted to see everything that he was doing to me, but soon it became too much and my head fell back. 

“You are so beautiful like this y/n, you’ll look so beautiful with my baby.”

“Seungminnie you can’t talk like that.”

“Why, you gonna finish too fast?” He snaps his hips hard into me, teasingly.

“Minnie.” I moan into his ear. “I’m going to pump you so full of cum it’ll have no choice but to stick.”

“Please! Please Minnie, I want it.”

“Yeah? You wanna be my good girl, wanna be my baby mama?”

“Yes! I’ll be so good for you.” “I know you will baby, I want to go slow but I’m so close. Are you close, baby?”

“I’m so close, please Seungmin.” I beg him, wanting him to finish. 

“Can I go hard, just for the last bit?” “Please baby!”

With my permission he snaps his hips even harder into me, picking up the pace even more. He is thrusting so hard into me now that my body is being forced up the bed, not that either of us care at this point in time. We are both so close that the only thing that either of us can care about is reaching that finish line together. I want to reach it with him, so I reach my hand between our bodies and begin to rub my clit, bringing myself closer to finishing. My body begins to shake and that's my tell tale sign that I’m close so I remove my hand and grab both of Sungmin's, which he pins above my head. He thrusts hard into me, rapid and frantic, but oh so good. It takes three more thrusts before we finish together, with a cry of each other's names. As he comes down from his high, he stays inside of me but flips me so that I am laying on top of him, he is worried that I might enter subdrop, he scoots us over to the side of the bed and reaches for the glass of water I randomly had there left over from last night. He sits me up and has me slowly drink from it, before slowly pulling out of me. After seeing that i’m not going to enter a sub drop he lays me down on the bed and walks into the bathroom, as my eyes sleepily close I can hear the bath water running. 

When I next wake up, I’m cuddled in Seungmins arms in bed while he’s scrolling aimlessly on his phone. I must have fallen asleep and he must have bathed me and gotten me into a new set of pajamas before changing himself. When he notices that I’m awake he puts his phone down and smiles at me, giggling to himself.

“Going raw for the first time must have done a number on you baby.” “Why do you say that?”

“You fell asleep before I could even get you into the bath.” He chuckled quietly.

“I mean, it was a new feeling. Which felt amazing by the way.” “It did, I don’t know how we’ve gone this long without trying it.” “Me either, but we don’t have to worry about going back to condoms for a while, right?” I ask him, hopeful.

“If you were serious about wanting a baby, then so was I. I want what you want, baby.” “I want a baby with you Seungmin. I think you would make such a great father.” “And I think that you would make such a great mother.” With that he tugs me down under the covers more, and I can feel myself get tired again. We both drift off into dreamland holding each other and dreaming of the future. 

Epilogue 

It’s been two months of trying and after last month's negative test, it was hard to want to keep trying, the excitement of it all was now scary. What if you couldn’t get pregnant, what if there was something wrong with me. Seungmin sat on the couch with Me while you cried and voiced my worries, but he kept reassuring me that you would keep trying until it happened, and if it didn’t happen, then we could always talk about other options. 

I was hopeful but I didn’t want to be because I had been feeling sick and my period was a week late. I hadn’t mentioned anything to Seungmin yet because I knew that he was preparing for a comeback and I didn’t want him to also worry about me even if he said that was his job as my husband. I knew that with my period being a week late I needed to take a test but I wanted to wait until he was home. As soon as he walked in the door, I mentioned it to him.

“Minnie, I think I need to take another test.” I said to Seungmin once he got settled in from coming home from the studio for the day.

“Why do you say that, my love?”

“My period is a week late.”

“It is?” He asks me with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

“Yes. I wanted to wait until you were home though, to take the test.”

“Well, I’m here now my love.” he kissed my head.

“I’ll go take it.” I said nervously 

I walked past him into our bedroom, ready to take the test, having to use the restroom for the better half of the day but not wanting to take the test without him and scared that if I went I wouldn’t be able to go again when he got home even though logically I would be able to. I quickly peed into a cup, wanting to be able to take more than one test. I know the web said it’s better to wait until the morning to take the test but I couldn’t wait that long, nerves and excitement were getting the better of me. After I dipped the plethora of tests into the cup, I dumped the rest out and washed my hands, before calling Seungmin into the bathroom. I didn’t want to wait for the results alone. He heard me call him and rushed into the bathroom, he obviously didn’t quite know how pregnancy tests worked. 

“Do you have the results?” He asked me excitedly.

“Not yet baby, I just didn’t want to wait alone, I’m nervous.” I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“Ah, it’s ok my love. Whatever the results are, we will get through it, ok?” He wrapped his arms around me tightly, kissing my head. He led me over to the side of the bathtub, sitting on the edge before pulling me onto his lap. He knew that I had set a timer already.

“I know, I just want this so badly.” “I know, so do I. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.” “I know, I just hope that it’s meant to happen now.”

“I do too, my love.”

“I love you Seungmin.” “And I love you y/n.” he kissed me gently. 

As we wait for the timer to go off we sit together in silence and hold each other. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s peaceful and comforting because we both know that no matter what happens we will both be there for each other. Before we both knew it the five minutes were up, the box said three but I set the timer for five to give Seungmin and I an extra two minutes to prepare ourselves for whatever the outcome may be. Seungmin gently taps my bottom to signal me to stand up so that he can check the test for me, knowing that I’m too nervous to do it, I quickly stand up and walk with him over to the counter where the tests are. He stops in front of them, turning towards me, hugging me tightly before grabbing one of the tests. He looks at me for confirmation to see if I’m ready or not, when he sees that I nod at him he flips the test over. 

I watch his face for any reaction, I see his eyes tear up, I can’t tell if they are happy tears or if they are sad tears. I take a step towards him before lifting a shaky hand towards him. He turns the test towards me, and when I look at it, I can clearly see it say, pregnant. I immediately burst into tears, wrapping my arms around Seungmin. He drops the test and wraps both of his arms around me, crying into my neck, while also kissing my neck. 

“I can’t believe it baby, we’re gonna be parent’s.” I say excitedly to him. “I can’t either, this is the best news ever.” he kisses my face repeatedly

Later that night:

Seungmin and I lay in bed, his hand laying on my stomach, drawing lazy circles. I’m in and out of sleep drained from the emotional excitement of the day, but I would take this excitement over the heartache of not being pregnant any day. Seungmin taps me awake when he notices that I’m drifting off, I look up at him sleepily, wondering why he won't let me sleep.

“What’s up baby?”

“I want you to come with me to practice tomorrow.” “Why?”

“I want you to be there with me when I tell the boys.” “Shouldn't we wait to tell them?” “You know that I can’t keep a secret from them.” “You're right. You really can’t.” I sigh

“It would only be the boys.” “Only the boys? No one else?”

“Only the boys.” “Ok, I’ll go with you tomorrow then.” “Perfect. Sleep now my love.”

The next morning:

Seungmin tried to let me sleep for as long as possible before waking me to come with him to go to practice. I knew that once we told the boys I could either crash on the couch in the practice room like old times or their driver would take me home. He didn’t tell the boys that I would be joining him today, so they were pleasantly surprised when both Seungmin and I walked into the practice room hand in hand. 

“Hey pup, y/n.” Chan said as he looked up from where he was stretching on the floor. Felix and Hyunjin stopped messing around across the room and made their way over, Han and Lee Know got up from the couch, standing nearby now. Changbin and I.N. came into the room behind us, Changbin rustled SeungMin's hair but he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. 

“What are you doing here y/nnie?” I.n asked, giving me a hug. 

“There’s something that Seungmin wanted to tell you guys, but he wanted me here for it.”

“What’s that?” Felix asked, curious now.

“You aren’t leaving the group are you?” Lee Know asked nervously. 

“Yah, don’t ask that. We don’t need that negative energy.” Chan jumped up quickly, smacking Lee Know upside the head. 

“God no, why would you ever even ask that. I would only ever leave this group in a body bag or the military service. Sorry baby.” Seungmin responded.

“I know how much you love being in this group babe, I’d never ask you to leave it.” “Gah, you two are sickenly cute.” Hyunjin dramatically exclaims.

“Nice to see you too Hyunjin.” I wave to him.

“You too y/nnie.” he waves back smiling at me.

“So what is it that you wanted to tell us?” Han asks, getting us back on track.

“Oh yea. Y/n’s pregnant.” “No way! That’s amazing, congratulations y/nnie.” Chan walks up to me, giving me a hug. The rest of the boys follow suit, giving similar congratulations. 

“You know, I always thought that it would be Channie who would have kids first out of all of us.” I.n pips up first. 

“Honestly same.” Seungmin says from next to me.

“What can I say, the Mrs isn’t ready yet. She just wants it to be the two of us for right now.” Chan replies.

“I just know that Stays are going to lose their shit when they find out that not only are you not single but you're married.” I tell him teasingly 

“It’ll be funny when they figure out it’s her that I wrote Railways about.”

“And Drive and Connected and Red Lights.” Hyunjin calls from across the room where he continues to stretch. 

“Yea yea. Call me out all you want.” Chan calls back to him.

“It’s ok Chan, she loves it. And so do Stays.” I tease him 

“But seriously, congrats guys. I’m really happy for you.” Chan gives both Seungmin and I hugs.

“Seungmin, does this mean you're going to go on hiatus?” Felix asks.

“No, I know Chan has offered it before in the past when we’ve gone on tour, and I assume the offer still stands but y/n plans to travel with us. During her pregnancy and after. The only time I’ll go on hiatus is right before the baby is born until the baby is around six months, then y/n and the baby will travel with us. As long as that's still ok with Chan?” Seungmin explains.

“That should be fine, the fans know that you have a wife. It might make it a little more tricky traveling wise but we can make it work.” Chan responds.

“I actually wanted to talk to both you and Seungmin about that.” I respond before Seungmin gets the chance.

“What’s up babe?” Seungmin asks.

“With me being pregnant now, I think it’s time that your fans know what I look like. They’ve always been supportive of the fact that you’ve been married, and now that we’re expecting, if they know what I look like it’ll make it easier to get through the airport if I can walk with you guys and your security.”

“That's a good point actually, y/n.”

“I agree, my love.” “Then it’s settled, we will talk to staff and on the next scheduled live stream for you, we will have y/nnie join you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I spend the rest of the day watching the boys practice for their upcoming comeback and dosing on the couch. Seungmin asks me multiple times throughout the day if I want to go home but I’d rather stay here with him and be surrounded by the people that I love most. I know that everything will be ok.

[brummiereader]

@zablife eek! I'm having so much fun writing him lovesick, head over heels, Lee ❤️!

Even though my Grandad didn't have to knock anyone out when he met my Nan at the fair 🤞🏼, he did see her from a distance, and told his mate when he asked which one he wanted out of her and her group of friends... "I'll have her" (ever the romantic) 🤦🏼‍♀️😂.

I wasn't sure at first to practically give it away that they did end up together, but I wanted this story to be about everything that happened in between. Or rather, everything thing Tommy did to fuck it all up until they got to live their happy ever after 😂. We'll revisit grandma at the very end of the story ❤️.

You know me, I can never not add a bit of banter between Arthur and John! And you're absolutely right, that song has to be one of the most irritating things to have to listen to. Exactly why John picked it 🤭.

I'm so happy you enjoyed my version of young!PreWar!Tommy 😍. I actually find teen Tommy pretty easy to write, but writing him just before the war was quite difficult 😬. But Cillian said he was romantic and Polly said he loved to laugh, so I took it, and ran with it 🤭.

Arghhh! I'm so happy you mentioned the little detail about the ring she offered him. You summed it up perfectly 🥰. It shows the years that has passed and the fact he never forgot about her!

The start of the great war is just around the corner, and things between them both are about to dive head first into angst 😬!

Thank you so much for your lovely comments and support, hun. You have no idea how much I cherish you 😘.

Sweet Dreams, Darling (Part One)

Summary: The date was August 1907. The beginning of a whirlwind romance that would see you and Tommy separated then reunited again for years to come. But when you unexpectedly reappear one rainy morning back into his life, Tommy's distracted eyes have your reunion starting off on the wrong foot. In a desperate attempt to refresh your memory of the summer you spent together, Tommy patiently waits for the penny to finally drop.

Warnings: Angst, mutual pining, sexual assault.

Word count: 3.5K

Authors Note: The song John sings to irritate Arthur with is an old cockney song called "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts" by Merv Griffin. This first chapter is loosely based off the song "The Tunnel Of Love" by the Dire Straits, and how my grandparents met each other in the 1950's.

[Masterlist] [Trailer]

Birmingham, 1967

" We'll leave in an hour, Nan" your granddaughter softly smiled at you, chestnut brown locks falling in front of her rosy cheeks as she placed the small porcelain cup of freshly brewed tea on the doily covered table beside you.

" Thank you, dear" your eyes drifted solemnly from the black and white photo of you and Tommy next to the steaming cup of English brew. The captured moment, and its weathered edges, tucked safely behind the glass of it's silver-plated frame.

" Time doesn't half catch up on you when you're not looking" your eyes drifted down to your aged hands, to the wrinkles and patches of wisdom dotted across your skin as you reached out with shaky fingers to brush the pad of your thumb over your husband's youthful face staring back at you.

" Nan?" your granddaughter shifted towards you, hand resting gently on your back as her eyes darted to the bouquet of wrapped carnations, lonesome on her grandfather's leather upholstered chair of choice. "Nan, are you ok?"

" Hm?" you turned to see the concern in her eyes, to the feeling of her hand clutched tightly around yours in a pang of worry.

" Oh, don't fret lovey. All is well" your fingers brushed the ringlet of hair from her face to see the crystal blues of her eyes she and every member of your and Tommy's brood had inherited.

"Ok" she quietly caved in to your smile of reassurance as she watched your attentions drift back to her suited grandfather, sat stoic beside you in the portrait taken many moons ago.

" How did you and Grandad meet?" she was eager to lighten the mood. To one of happy memories. To the many stories she had been told by her grandfather when Sunday dinner had been eaten. When the dishes had been cleared, and she sat patiently by his chair, waiting for him to tell her about the tales of his youth while they both indulged in the stash of black liquorice sat in a ceramic pot by his favourite seat, neither one of them had a liking for. All but one story that was. A story he'd left for you to tell. One she was eager to learn before it was time to leave.

" Which time, my dear?" you turned with the milky cup of black tea perched between your lips, welcoming the warmth of England's remedy to all of life's hardships settle in your chest as the drizzly weather dusted the tips of your freshly cut grass with beaded droplets of rain.

" Nan, you must be confused. Surely you could have only met once?" your granddaughter's head lowered with a blushing smile at your usually sharp memory succumbing to your old age.

" Oh, but we didn't, dear. Even though your Grandfather's stubbornness on the matter often insisted otherwise" a youthful giggle erupted from your chest as a flurry of memories about both encounters swarmed back to you in a warm hug.

"The first time I met your Grandfather, he wasn't that far off from your own age" you adjusted yourself in your floral recliner for the long tale ready to be told as you placed your cup of tea down on its silver coaster.

" And the second time...well, I didn't recognise him at all" you watched your granddaughter eagerly nestle in, pulling one of your hand-knitted cushions into her lap.

" Tell me about it, please?" her eyes beamed with curiosity. Her buoyant energy and keenness to learn about how you had met, awakening the sounds of spinning carousels, the melodies of your youth being played from the intricately placed chimes of a wooden music box.

" It was the summer of 1907, the hottest day on record. And the fair had come to town..."

August, 1907

" I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts" John, burdened with the title of middle child sang with the intention of irritating his older brother as giggling children ran by with fluffy clouds of sugared treats, whilst the sounds of a wooden music box being turned by a tattooed armed man, played through the buzz and excitement of the fair.

"Shut it, John" Arthur grumbled, eyes narrowing in on the stack of tropical fruits as he rolled the metal ball in the palm of his hand.

" There they all just standing in a row" the cockney classic continued as he plonked himself down on top of the table.

"Would ya bleeding shut it!" Arthur growled, squeezing the iron ball he was seconds from launching at his brothers head.

"Big ones, small ones" John cupped his shirted bosom with pouting lips as he slid into Arthurs line of sight.

" Idiot wants me to kill him" Arthur quietly smirked as his aim shifted to his brother's cackling face.

"Got too many brothers anyway" the eldest Shelby mumbled under his breath, squinting eyes curling at the obnoxious noise accompanied by Johns flamboyant dancing as his arm stretched out beside him, weapon firmly grasped between his fingers.

" One less mouth for Aunt Poll to feed, ay Tommy? Tom?" Arthur's murderous intentions went unheard as Tommy's remained elsewhere to a young girl with rebellious whispers of hair blowing in the summer breeze. A perched basket of freshly picked apples resting on her hip, ready to be dipped into their delightful syrupy mixture.

"Shit..." Tommy mumbled under his breath, eyes darting to find you disappearing among the swarming crowd as he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow before taking off in search of you.

"You won!" John jumped off the table, head snapping back to the tumbling sound of fuzzy coated coconuts falling to the ground.

"What d'you mean?..." the eldest brother sniffed, prize in hand as he turned to see the confusion knitted between John's brows.

"...I missed" Arthur's Cheshire smile grew at the slouching one of John's as his stuffed win landed with a hard thud across the back of his head before his darting eyes searched for his now, favourite brother.

"Where's Tom at?"

Swerving through the teeming crowd of people patiently waiting for a spin on the galloping horsed carousel, Tommy's searching eyes finally landed on you.

" You in line, Mister?" a young boy, cheeks full of candy floss tugged at the cuffs of his shirt as the line of fairgoers moved forward, pushing Tommy to the front.

" Ay?" Tommys eyes darted to and from the small child to you disappearing behind the wooden stalls of prizes yet to be won as he held up the huffing crowd.

" You getting on or what, son?" the stout operator grumbled with a flick of his head for Tommy to step onto the rickety ride, its wooden frame decorated with weathered looping twirls from the many summers it had seen.

" 'ere" Tommy reached into his pocket, handing the last of his tickets to the sticky cheeked boy before setting off in search of you for a second time.

" Thanks mister!" a squeaky call of gratitude saw Tommy off to the back of the brightly covered stalls, to you stood with a young man hovering over you.

" Go on, give us a quick kiss then" the towering lad, dressed down in only a vest and tweed trousers kept you in place as the scorching heat of the sun beamed down on your backs.

" Fuck off, O'Connor " your attempts to push past his strong build were rendered useless when his quick footing had him slip in front of you, thieving fingers delving into the basket of apples sat on your hip.

"Little tease" he bit down onto the freshly picked fruit with a smirk. Fingers lifting the ends of your dress for a peak under the frilly fabric, you hastily slapped away.

" Gonna ask your daddy for your hand in marriage. Won't be able to say no then" the teasing tone in his voice was suddenly replaced by his reaching hand, grabbing hold of your arm as he threw the half-eaten fruit behind him to the feet of Tommy, stood watching behind the wooden frame of the stall.

" He'll put a bullet through your chest before you get the chance if you don't let me go" you battled with his grasp with a stiffened bottom lip. Eyes watering at the stinging hold of his leathery hands searing your skin.

A good foot taller than him. Muscles as big as fucking boulders. Shit, Tommy thought to himself as he watched with rolling shoulders, pumping himself up for the scrap undoubtedly about to take place.

" Your pretty little head forgotten who owns this fucking fair?" his fingers cupped your cheek, forcing the back of your head against the wooden barrier separating you from aide.

"My old man was kind enough to give your family work when you lot came knocking. Can take it away just as quickly" he played with the fragile state of your family's finances, knowing how much you depended on your jobs at the fair to make ends meet.

" Come on, darling. Loosen up a bit, yeh?" his hand glided over your clothed breast in a hushed voice. Nestled head in the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of desire down your skin with moans of want as you squeezed your welling eyes shut, waiting for it to be over.

" Ay! Get the fuck off her!" Tommy raced forward, lean body ducking past O'Connor's turning shadow with a fist full of taught vengeance ready to be delivered in one mighty blow to his cheek.

And a mighty blow was dealt, one Tommy was sure had broken his hand when his stifled cries of pain had him swiftly turning his back to you in an agonising attempt to save face.

" You knocked the bastard out!" your back stiffened against the wooden stall as your widening eyes snapped down to the body of Sean O'Connor, slumped unconscious on the cracking earth of summers drought.

" Fuck!" Tommy's voice shrilled with a strangle bellow, succumbing to the stabbing pain shooting through his hand.

"Wha...what's his head made of? Fucking metal?!" he turned with a reddened face contorting in pain as his shivering hand, bloody and bruised, wiped his sweaty brow.

" Well, he is as thick as a brick" you stepped over the slumped body, heel of your shoe conveniently finding its way onto Sean's limp hand.

" Let me see" you slowly approached, gently cradling his hand in yours with an urgent need to inspect the damage that had been done.

" One of many battle wounds, I'm sure. But not broken" you quietly noted with a brush of your thumb over his battered hand, eyes locking with the besotted blue gaze staring down at you and the smile your own curling lips couldn't help but match as a blissfulll silence settled between you both.

"Thank you..." your gratitude came in a faint murmur against the sound of fairground melodies as you waited for him to introduce himself.

" Tommy Shelby" his freckled cheeks dimpled with a smile, bruised hand still cradled between yours in a hold so gentle, he'd all but forgotten about the throbbing pain he felt only moments before.

"I'm Y/N, Y/N Y/M/N" your cheeks blushed with a subtle sway of your hips as you melted under his crystal stare.

" Y/N" he echoed back in a whisper, eyes taking in every delicate feature that had captivated him from afar on the hottest day of August that was set to be the most cherished summer of his life.

" It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N"

For two months the fair had come to Birmingham. And for two months Tommy had visited you almost every day, spending a small fortune on tickets to go over looked by the watchful eyes of your family and those of Sean's who was laid up inside by the window of his family's wagon in search of the peaked cap boy who had bruised his ego.

But like most traveling folk, the time had come to move on. News the love-struck teen battled to swallow as he watched you clear the stall of trinkets and stuffed bears through the setting sun of the fair's last day.

" Can't you stay? Just one more day?" Tommy asked the impossible as he sat perched on the table next to you, picking at the splintering wood with eyes downcast at your shuffling feet.

" You know how it is, we never settle for too long" you caught his sorrowful gaze darting up at you as you placed the arms worth of prizes into its crate for his hand.

" Was just trying my luck, eh?" a faint smile and pull of your body had you settling yourself between his legs when a rowdy voice saw you both squinting through the fading sun.

" Come on, wrap it up, ay Tom! We've got a train to bloody catch!" Arthur called for his brother to hurry his goodbyes as a disgruntled Tommy mumbled his displeasure upon seeing him and John stood impatiently waiting for him.

" Here" you turned back with a blushing smile, fingers reaching into the wooden crate of treasures for a small box as Tommy's hands dropped to your waist. Eyes committing to memory every inch of your glowing face illuminated by the orange hues of the dying sun.

" Remember me by this" you pulled his hand in front of you, placing a small gold buckled ring on his thumb when your impending farewell got the better of you and a steady stream of tears began to roll down your cheeks.

With nothing left to say that would reassure your broken hearts you'd see each other again, your intended promises fell silent to the feeling of your lips meeting in a first kiss. A final goodbye to your summer romance.

" Don't forget me" you pulled away, cheeks dotted with tears when your shaky body was suddenly pulled back into a passionate embrace encouraged by the whistles and cheers of Tommy's hollering brothers before he left you stood where he'd first met you.

" Now how could I ever forget that, eh!" he called back with a boyish grin, adjusting his peak cap as Arthur landed a slap of approval to his shoulder before they ran to catch the last train of the day back to Small Heath.

High on the world, Tommy had already begun the count-down to when the fair would visit next year. But youth's wishfulness would be met with disappointment when life's hardships changed fate's trajectory and Tommy found himself hopelessly searching for you every summer as your face began to fade from his memory with each passing season. That was until an unexpected rainy day in 1914, when you'd meet again, for a second time.

Small Heath, 1914

"Easy on the breaks there, Tom. Easy now" Arthur held onto the dash of the chugging truck with a grunt. Regretting handing over the reins of designated driver to his younger brother

" It's a piece of shit!" Tommy protested about the dubiously sourced vehicle Arthur had scavenged.

" Yeh well, this piece of shit will see that this delivery finds its way to Charlie's yard" the two brothers shared a mischievous smirk as the sound of a truck's worth of nicked train tracks rattled behind them the Shelby boys would use to line their pockets for their growing family business ran out of their Watery Lane home.

" Turn 'ere" Arthur's eyes narrowed in on the end of the cobbled road, to the officer stood inspecting the goods of each passing vehicle after having learnt of the missing tracks that saw every train out of Small Health stranded that morning. " Tom, bloody turn!"

" It's...stuck!" Tommy battled with the wheel as the rattling truck rumbled towards the policeman eyeing up the chaotic scene of Arthur manhandling every leverage, every button in attempts to save themselves from driving head first into the baton-handed officer.

" Bloody thing!" the eldest brother leaned over, straining with Tommy to turn the stiffened wheel when the metal discs finally loosened and they swerved around the corner, narrowly missing the discovery of the tonnes worth of metal concealed in the back of the car.

" Fuck, that was a close one!" Arthur fell back into his chair with a chuckle as Tommy shot him an irritated glare at his useless ability to source the equipment needed to commit their petty crimes.

" Next time, I'm in charge" Tommy huffed as he turned his grinding jaw back to the road when something, or rather someone, suddenly caught his eye.

" Yeh, yeh" Arthur waved off his brother with a sniff, stretching his gangly legs along the foot of the car as Tommy found his eyes slipping to the cobbled path and the approaching sight of someone he never thought he'd lay eyes on again. You.

" Tommy. Ay, Tommy" Arthurs' heavy hand alerted his brother with a pat across his chest at the drifting wheels heading for the large puddle ahead.

Oblivious to the foolish cockup he was about to make. Tommy couldn't seem to drag his longing eyes from you after the seven years he'd gone without seeing you.

But a joyful reunion was off the cards for Tommy, whose frazzled thoughts had him forgetting that he was in fact, in control of the hurtling vehicle speeding your way. So frazzled that he had no time to react when the swerving wheels saw him drive into the large puddle, dosing you in a wave of muddied rain water.

" Shit! Shit!" Tommy's eyes darted to the rear-view mirror to you stood drenched from head to toe with waving arms as he slouched into his seat with reddening cheeks. His embarrassment only made worse by Arthur's perfectly sought choice of words.

" Well done you bloody idiot"

With a change of dry clothes and a frown permanently settled between your brows for the day that had started in a puddle of disaster, you began to tidy the countertop of the corner shop you now worked at. Unbeknownst that the very cause of said disastrous day, had inquired around the soot-covered town about your whereabouts, and was about to stroll through the door to the sound of the ringing bell hovered overhead.

You, you glared at the three men, eyes quickly hunting out the careless driver you remained oblivious to his connection to your youth.

With the sudden realisation that you didn't recognise him, Tommy casually drifted from shelf to shelf, to each boxed product and canned good while watching you in the corner of his eye as he swallowed back his disappointment.

Almost a decade later and you looked almost the same as you did on that sweltering summer day he had met you. A true beauty, one that had managed to turn him into a pathetic puppy-eyed boy like it had all those years ago. His enamorment with you, something he desperately tried to conceal from your glaring eyes, watching him over the newspaper in your hands.

With a roll of his shoulders, Tommy placed the can of beans back onto its dusty shelf, gold ring you had offered him all those years ago catching his eye. The same gold ring that had made its way across each growing finger, until it sat comfortably on his pinky.

" Packet of Sweet Aftons" he cleared his throat as you pulled your head up from the newspaper, forcefully folding its flimsy pages in half Tommy was sure would see the side of his face if he didn't say anything, if he didn't apologise for his small detour into you that morning.

" Of course...sir" your forced smile came with a hefty amount of exaggerated politeness that didn't go amiss by his sniggering brothers stood behind him.

" I erh, I didn't see you there...this morning, that is" he cleared his throat as you stepped onto the small wooden stool to the shelf of neatly arranged boxed cigarettes. The hung mirror reflecting off the wall, capturing Tommy elbowing his giggling brothers who were intent on making your reunion as painful as they possibly could for him.

" I would've stopped, but we were in a hurry" Tommy refrained from reminding you of who he was on a whim that you'd save him from further embarrassment when you finally recognised him. Or so he hoped.

" Five pence" you slammed the cardboard packet of rolled tobacco onto the counter, unimpressed with the strangers' attempts at a half-assed apology.

"Right" another wave of disappointment quietened his voice as he jostled in his suit trousers for the brassy coins.

" It's usually on the house, love" Johns ill timed remark left Tommy internally crippling at the smirk growing on your lips.

" That so?" your brows raised at the youngest's nodding head as you tossed each coin into the silver dipped till.

" Have a nice day, gentlemen" you shot a pursed smile at Tommy's lingering stare as you shut the metal draw with a loud clang.

With a knitted brow you watched each sharply dressed man leave the small corner shop, when the clouds parted, capturing the illuminated face of the sole culprit to your bad day. The blues of his eyes and freckled face causing a forgotten memory to emerge in the forefront of your searching mind. One you had no time to puzzle together when the hollering voice of your boss suddenly boomed in your ear.

" Oh bloody Christ! Jesus bloody Christ, Y/N!" your boss waddled towards you, your and Tommy's mutual gaze broken as he strolled past the shop window out of sight.

" What have you gone and done, you silly girl?" your employer paced back and forth, eyes nervously darting to and from the bustling street outside.

" Made you five pence is what I've done" you protested, hands coming down onto your hips with a knitted brow of confusion at his unexpected reaction at you doing your job.

" You're gonna have to go give them their money back. And...and apologise!" your mumbling boss brushed the film of sweat from his brow, fumbling fingers pulling the knobbly ended leaver to open the till.

" And why would I do that?" you watched him turn your hand in a panic, placing more than double the amount of the sale in your palm.

" You may be new here, but you'd be wise to learn about the people who run this shit hole we call home before you lose your eyes" your boss spoke of the emerging razor gang that had begun to slowly gain notoriety in the Birmingham district.

" And who might those people be?" your rolling eyes at his exaggerated worry about a group of petty chancers had you huffing as you pulled your coat over your shoulders, when he grabbed hold of your arm, whispering the name of the cutthroat gang you had encountered.

" The Peaky Blinders, that's who"

With stomping feet and locks of blowing hair trailing behind you in the bitter wind, you marched through the sludge of Small Heath to the pub the locals called the Garrison on the orders of your boss.

" Come on..." you grunted, straining to open the heavy doors of the tavern that's hinges had frozen in the frosty weather when you unceremoniously flew into the smoke-clouded pub with a tumble.

" Great" you mumbled under your breath at the murmur of low chuckles, the crowd of eyes glaring over their shoulders at your dramatic entrance.

Head held high above each following stare, you sought out the man you had been begrudgingly forced to apologise to. The very same man you found smirking at you over his pint of ale in a dimly lit corner of the pub.

" I hope you don't think I'm gonna pull out the red carpet for you" your apology fell short as you tossed the pennies onto the wooden table, fearless of him and his family's growing status in the town, having already lived a hardened childhood among petty criminals such as himself.

"Keep it. Buy a toffee apple" a boyish smile peaked at the corner of his mouth as he pushed the money back across the table to you. His attempts to refresh your memory only leaving you with a tilting head of confusion at his peculiar suggestion.

" You don't remember me, do you Y/N?" your brow scrunched upon hearing your name, when your attentions darted to the sound of a spinning coin coming to a stop, to the pinky-ringed finger tapping against its bronze printed front that suddenly caused a wave of memories to hurtle back to you about the boy you had shared a fleeting teen romance with.

Tommy Shelby. Your summer love.

*I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter in the comments below 💚*

Next part (coming soon!)

Tag list: @mischievouslittlecreature @peakyswritings @jbrownta @youngbananamilkshake @meadowshelby

@dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @novashelby

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Trigger Warnings: Contains Spoilers: Angst with a side of crack, CEO drama, Overprotective besties, Ex-MI6 Haibara chaos, Silent menace Megumi, Trillionair MC problems, Pregnant and done with everyone, Emotional whiplash, Unhinged humor, Found family dynamics, Themes of betrayal and emotional manipulation, Media harassment, Brief mentions of past trauma (non-explicit), Characters acting unhinged but hilarious, Emotional conflict with undertones of reconciliation, Snarky banter and crackfic energy, Dysfunctional Relationships, Megumi Fushiguro Being a Menace, Haibara Acting Like a Serial Killer, Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento Regret Everything, Slow Burn Karma, Reader gets the last laugh.

A/N: This chapter has it all: private revenge, public drama, bodyguards with questionable morals, and reporters who are downright nosy. Expect some absolutely unhinged banter to balance out the angst, all while following one very pregnant CEO who isn’t here for anyone’s nonsense. Don’t let the opening scenes fool you—things are about to get wilder. I’ll keep the spoilers to a minimum, but you might want to have a stress ball handy. And remember, comments are my lifeblood! If you laugh, cry, or find yourself questioning your existence while reading, please drop a note.

Chapter 10 (alt ending 2.1) - Silent Reckonings (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 11 (alt ending 2.2) - Snakes & Mirrors

Neither man spoke, but the shared look said everything: they would not lose you for the twins .

Silence blanketed the room, broken only by the steady hum of the machines monitoring your vitals.

More time passed, but neither left your side. Once the IV and the machines were removed and you seemed to be comfortable, exhaustion finally pulled them under. Gojo’s head dropped onto the edge of the bed, his hair splayed messily across the blanket, one hand protectively resting on your stomach. Nanami leaned back against the headrest, his head tilted back, arms limp at his sides—a rare moment of surrender from a man who never allowed himself to falter.

Your body shifted slightly, a faint twitch that had both men snapping awake, their exhaustion forgotten in an instant.

They didn’t move; their eyes locked on your sleeping form, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest like it was the only thing keeping them sane.

After a while, they both laid on opposite sides of you and fell asleep again, and the room settled into an uneasy peace, punctuated only by their soft, whispered apologies.

---

When you woke, it was pitch black. The air was thick with the scent of cologne—familiar. Regret clung to the room like a second skin. Your body ached in places you didn’t know could hurt, but the ache in your chest was worse: a hollow, gaping void that pulsed with every breath you took.

You were home.

Fuck.

The sheets beneath you felt alien, the fabric too soft, too clean—like they’d been stripped of the weight of memories. But they couldn’t erase everything. Your mind dragged you back to the last time you’d been here.

You’d been curled up on this very bed, smaller than you thought possible, their whispers wrapping around each other like silk cords, choking the air out of your lungs. You remembered Gojo’s voice—low, careless: “Why not? She’s asleep.”

The sheets had burned against your skin that night, and the sobs you muffled into your soul felt like they would never end. Your body curled away from their warmth; your back to the cold men, the barrier between you and the betrayal beside you. They hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe they had. Maybe they just didn’t care.

The memory struck like a hammer. You thought of the nights before it all crumbled. Nights when Gojo would crash through the door, arms full of takeout and stories he couldn’t wait to share. When Nanami would follow with tea, slower, quieter, his eyes soft as they found yours. They would pull you close, the three of you tangled together in laughter and plans, in a love that had once felt unshakable.

But love wasn’t unshakable. Love could break. And they’d proven that.

One night, before the distance became unbearable, you had reached for Gojo. Your fingers grazed his back—a quiet, desperate plea for connection. For something, anything, to remind you that you still existed in their world.

Even in sleep, he shifted away.

Subtle.

Cruel. 

Like your touch had been an inconvenience he couldn’t bear to endure.

And Nanami.

Nanami, who had always been your constant. The one who had held you together when you couldn’t hold yourself. He lay silently beside Gojo that night, his breathing steady, his presence frigid. You knew he wasn’t asleep. You knew he felt you breaking apart. And yet he turned his face—toward Gojo.

Gojo’s arm had landed on Nanami’s abdomen, and Nanami had done nothing but pull him closer with an arm under his head, firm and certain. A sight that once would have brought you comfort now left you cold, abandoned like an afterthought .

Like a shameful secret, they couldn’t wait to leave behind.

Like you were a ghost, and they were moving on without you.

Like you never even existed.

You had tugged on your earring hard; the sting grounded you in a way their love no longer could. The pain was proof that you were real, even as they erased you from their lives one touch at a time.

Did you love them so much that they had you questioning your reality, your existence without even saying a word to you? Was there a word for this type of gaslighting?

And now, here you were again.

You turned your head toward the figures beside you. Nanami’s hand rested just below your chest, his brow furrowed even in sleep, as though guilt had chased him into his dreams. Gojo’s arm draped lazily over your waist, his mouth slightly open near your belly, soft snores escaping into the silence.

Vulnerable. Peaceful.

So far removed from the wreckage they’d left behind.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to summon the warmth of their love. The love that once was. But the ache in your chest deepened, a familiar companion now, its weight as suffocating as it was constant.

But you felt nothing. No rage, no sorrow, no flicker of warmth. Just a vast emptiness.

Just the cold, hollow void where their affection had once lived. 

You wondered if you would ever feel whole again.

You had to get out from under their limbs, their bodies, their lies.

The blankets clung to your skin as if they wanted to hold you hostage, a smothering reminder of everything that had gone wrong. According to your husbands—it seemed that five of them, along with the blaring heater—weren’t enough to keep the cold at bay. Or maybe the cold wasn’t in the air but in your chest, festering like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

You peeled the blankets away, your hands trembling, and carefully lifted their arms off you. You placed Nanami’s arm over Gojo’s chest, where it seemed to belong now, and slipped away from the warmth that once felt like everything you had dreamed of.

Your feet hit the cold floor, the icy shock cutting through the haze in your mind. You moved toward the door, each step heavier than the last. Your breaths were shallow, almost gasps, as flashes of their hands snaking around your body in Norway invaded your mind. The way their desperation had bled into their actions. The way their fear had turned them into something monstrous.

Did your leaving make them go to such extremes?

Was this love?

Or were you just a possession they had lost — something they thought they owned and could reclaim whenever they pleased?

Your heart sank lower with each thought.

If they had truly loved you, wouldn’t they have noticed you slipping away?

Wouldn’t they have stopped before you became nothing but a ghost in their home?

Instead, they left you to rot in the shadows of their penthouse, forgotten in a corner like an unacknowledged rodent, an insect?

Going through the motions—taking care of their eggs?

Not even coming back most nights? Especially weekends.

You thought of the weekends they spent together, posting their outings on social media like they were the picture of domestic bliss. Like finishing the week was a victory, they celebrated with each other, never once thinking of the woman left behind.

You thought of the cold dinners and the dinners you’d often forget to eat because there was no one to care or notice if you ate, the empty bed, the sound of your own voice echoing in the silence because no one was there to hear it.

Then they didn’t even bother to notice you were gone for six weeks.

How could they? One needed to come home most nights to notice that a permanent fixture in their penthouse was missing.

And when they finally did notice, they couldn’t just shrug it off like they had shrugged you off that night when you begged them to tell you if they loved you.

No, they went straight for the one thing that brought you joy, the one thing that kept you distracted from the bleakness of your existence. They targeted the dream you had built from the ground up—the dream that had fueled you when you had nothing else to hold onto.

They went after your company. The one you had built alone.

Especially without them!

They went after the innocent people who worked there, targeting them with brutality that left you reeling. You had to intervene with Haibara and Higuruma, even in your pregnant state, when you should have been shielded from all this violence.

So what if they didn’t know you were pregnant?

Did that justify their descent into becoming terrorists just to get to you?

It had the opposite effect; instead of feeling safe, you were now terrified of them, terrified of the fathers of your babies.

But you weren’t weak. You would never let them see that fear.

Then Gojo even grabbed Nanami’s pecks mid-fight like they hadn’t learned anything. They even obliterated your reputation, making you extremely commonly known—leaving you unable to walk down the street without being noticed and humiliated. You were now constantly terrified that someone might grab you, that a mob might form to make an example out of you. All you ever wanted was to keep your life private, to enjoy the simple pleasures without becoming a target for their disdain.

Without becoming a typical CEO, up their own ass.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

Turning around meant shattering—a kaleidoscope of lost selves, and you were already a ghost.

A shell of the woman who once dared to drop her armour to let them in.

You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

If they wanted to own you, they could have the hollow echo of your name, but they’d never reclaim the woman who loved them unconditionally— the one who’d spent sleepless nights massaging their aching bodies after they returned home, broken from battles you couldn’t fight for them— not twice, not in the same breath.

That version of you was gone. You had squeezed out her last breath like a forgotten dream, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of expectation to obediently stay, to accept what they never gave. No amount of regret could resurrect her.

Toji was right— never trust the sweet-talking serpents, the ones who wrap their lies in honeyed words .

And Megumi? He saw through the facade; he knew the truth behind the smiles.

God, how you missed Megumi, the only one who understood the cost of love, the price of freedom .

Maybe this was your karma for betraying the only people who truly cared for you—the ones who stood by you while your own family beat you senseless each night, called you a whore for the simple crime of being born a girl, laughed at you when you told them you’d been assaulted as a child since six years old.

In the shadows of your past, you wondered if this pain was the price you had to pay, a twisted reflection of the loyalty you once turned away.

The thought of your best friend and his father almost brought tears to your eyes, but you willed them away; this was not the place; these were not the people you would allow yourself to be vulnerable around.

If they ever had been, those husbands of yours had died, and you were their widow now, staring down the men who’d abducted you, the ghosts of your past clashing with the harsh reality of your present.

In this modern maze of betrayal, you stood alone, a survivor in a world of whispers, ready to reclaim your shattered pieces and make them regret dragging you back.

They had always seen the gentle you. The soft you. The kind you.

The woman who laughed too easily, forgave too quickly, always saw beneath their surface and helped even if they could never really do the same for her.

The one who smiled through the pain, the one who let their words cut deep without retaliation.

Now, they would know how you became a billionaire at twenty-one, with no family, no money, just scraped knuckles and your wit. They would see the side of you that Toji raised— not by his blood . The one who taught you and Megumi that survival meant striking first and harder.

When the door clicked shut behind you, the silence of the house deepened, wrapping around you like a shroud, a reminder of the strength you had yet to reclaim.

And they didn’t stir.

Pathetic.

There was no point in running; you knew that. They would chase you to the ends of the earth. But it wasn’t fear that weighed you down—it was exhaustion. You were too heavy and tired for the chase, too hollow for the fight.

Your steps carried you to the guest room. A space untouched by their betrayal.

Your hand found the doorknob, but something caught your eye.

The ring.

That wretched ring.

It had somehow found its way back onto your finger, its weight burning like acid on your skin. The sight of it made your stomach churn.

Without thinking, you yanked it off, the motion so violent your knuckles throbbed. It glinted mockingly in the dim light before you hurled it at the hallway mirror.

CRACK!

The sound shattered the silence, a perfect echo of your splintering patience. You heard movement behind you—the groggy shuffle of feet and scared voices.

“Babe?” Gojo’s voice was hoarse, panicked.

“Wait,” Nanami’s voice followed, desperate.

You didn’t look back. You didn’t care to.

Your hand twisted the doorknob, and you stepped into the guest room. The door shut firmly behind you, the lock clicking into place with a finality that made your heart race.

“Baby, please—” Gojo’s voice cracked, his bravado gone. “Just let us talk.”

“Let us explain,” Nanami added, calm but edged with desperation.

You leaned against the door, staring at the barren room in front of you. Their voices blurred into the background, muffled apologies bleeding into the walls.

You didn’t answer. Didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. You were done wasting your energy on them.

This wasn’t forgiveness. This wasn’t understanding.

This was survival.

And you would thrive.

Climbing into bed and turning the nightlight on for the awful nightmares you had these days—you closed your eyes, letting the darkness swallow their voices.

---

Sometime later you stirred in bed, the weight of your belly making it difficult to find a comfortable position. The twins seemed to sense your restlessness; their tiny kicks were a bittersweet reminder of their presence. With a sigh, you realized the inevitable—another trip to the bathroom.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, feeling the strain in your back and the pressure on your bladder. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the nightlight. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the journey ahead.

Each step felt like a monumental effort, your swollen feet protesting with every movement. Was that oil on them?- Nevermind . The distance seemed longer than usual, but you focused on the goal ahead.

Finally, you reached the attached bathroom —thank god, because if you had to see those two right now, you’d kill a man . Inside, the light cast a soft glow as you gripped the doorframe for support. Relief swept over you as you sat down, the tension in your body easing for just a moment. The tears threatened to spill over from all the stress and hormones, but you blinked them back, determined to stay resilient. You had cried enough.

When you approached the sink to wash your hands, a glimpse of a couple of bandaids caught your eye, their placement suggesting something sinister. Fear washed over you.

What had they done? Had they tried to harm the babies? You knew they would never agree to them.

But then the twins kicked, their four little feet retreating, pulling you back from the edge of your spiralling thoughts. Your husbands wouldn’t go that far; they had too much to lose—if they harmed the babies—they would never be able to reconcile with you.

It wasn’t just your emotional assumptions—it was the fact that they would lose their leverage over you, the pretence of “ protecting you ,” that would keep you with them.

What a delusional joke.

They were using kindergarten tactics on the wrong person. Seriously? You were a CEO. Predicting bargaining chips, negotiating, and orchestrating hostile takeovers were all part of your daily grind. This was a child's play. If they thought they could outsmart you with these amateur moves, they clearly underestimated your experience or just underestimated you.

In the bathroom mirror, you caught a glimpse of your complexion—surprisingly better than you expected. That only happened when you’d been given some kind of glucose. But the needle mark on the inside of your elbow raised suspicions.

Why did they care about taking your blood? What were they testing for, and what did they really want to know?

You were too exhausted to unravel it all right now. In time, the answers would reveal themselves. You just had to keep your guard up around them.

After washing your hands, you made your way back to bed, each step a little lighter now that the immediate discomfort had passed. You settled back under the covers, and the darkness felt less oppressive. The twins shifted slightly, their movements a strange comfort. They made you feel less alone. You let your head sink into the pillow, exhaustion dragging you under.

---

Outside the door, Gojo sat slumped on the floor, his head in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing shallow. Every muffled sound you made from the other side of the door was like a knife twisting in his chest.

“She’s struggling,” he muttered, his voice raw.

“And we can’t do anything,” Nanami muttered, his voice hollow. He stood in the corner, shoulders slumped, head tilted against the wall, looking at the ceiling like he was trying to physically hold himself together. You were taking away the one thing he had always given freely—his ability to care and help.

They weren’t used to being powerless. They weren’t used to being the ones left out in the cold. Watching you struggle—knowing they had no right to fix it—was a punishment they hadn’t prepared for.

And for the first time, they realized this wasn’t a nightmare they could wake up from.

It was their reality.

And they had no one to blame but themselves.

“Let me call Shoko. She asked us to keep her updated,” Gojo said after a beat, reaching for his phone.

//

On the outskirts of Tokyo, Shoko startled awake, her face pressed against your ultrasound report. Her phone buzzed loudly on the desk.

"What?” She croaked, her voice raspy with exhaustion.

“She peed,” Gojo announced solemnly.

“Congrats.”

The line disconnected, and Shoko got up and slumped into a nearby hospice bed, muttering, “Morons,” before drifting back to sleep.

//

“Support railings?”

“Support railings.”

“I’ll order them. We’ll install them ourselves before she wakes up. And no calling any random person—we can’t let anyone know what devil spawns she’s carrying.”

“By we , you mean me ,” Nanami deadpanned, though he didn’t object.

“Of course, my big, strong husband. You know my hands are too soft for manual labour.” Gojo grinned. “Besides, I’ll be contributing by paying for it and staring at your glorious behind as you bend over to install them.”

“And you call yourself her husband.”

“Yes, in every sense of the word,” Gojo shot back, unbothered. “Also, I think your ‘efficient’ technique might help get it done faster without waking her. You know, or she might run away again.” 

---

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, pulling you out of restless sleep. You blinked, groggy, disoriented, and then you remembered again: you were in Japan.

On the wall clock, it was nine a.m.—far too late for work. But your aching body didn’t care.

You scrambled for your phone, only to realize—of course—it wasn’t there. Norway? Or confiscated by your husbands? You cursed under your breath, swung your legs off the bed, and forced yourself to move.

Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you froze at the sight before you. Mommy-and-me kind of products littered the counter. Safety railings lined every edge. The entire bathroom looked like a baby-proofing seminar.

They fucking teleported.

You sighed and went on. After your shower and skincare routine, you cracked the guest room door, peeking out like a criminal checking for the cops. 

Silence .

Faint noises drifted from the kitchen, but nothing in the hall.

The coast was clear.

You darted out, moving swiftly down the hall like a thief in your own home.

Midway, Nanami appeared like a wild Pokémon, holding a glass of something suspicious—probably a ginger shot. But you didn’t stop to inspect. Your feet moved faster than your thoughts, and you bolted past him like a child fleeing a lecture, his startled “Wait—” trailing behind you as you slammed your old bedroom door in his face.

Immature? Maybe. Satisfying? Absolutely.

The room smelled faintly of the cologne and regret. You ignored it, tearing through drawers and closets, searching for your phones.

Nothing.

But then Nanami’s phone caught your eye on the nightstand.

Foolish man hadn’t even changed his password. He couldn’t even cheat properly.

Unlocking it, you quickly dialled your numbers.

Both calls rang out to the robotic voice of Norway’s telecom service: “ The number you have dialled is currently switched off. ”

Your grip tightened on the phone. Of course, the morons hadn’t thought to bring them.

But you were nothing if not resourceful. You dialled a number Toji had drilled into your head years ago.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m back in Japan. Come pick me up for office. Bring a new phone.”

A laugh rumbled through the line. “Didn’t last very long, did you?”

“I’ll sit on your chest like a paperweight and crush the laughter out of you,” you snapped.

“Okay, okay, crazy. Megumi’s in Japan. I’ll bring him.”

There must have been a god listening to you last night. Your heart clenched at the mention of his name, but anything was better than dealing with the two intellectually challenged champions at home.

“And the media’s camped out front, just FYI.”

“Fine. Be here in twenty-five minutes.” You hung up, deleted the call log, and locked Nanami’s phone.

You sat at your vanity, forcing yourself to go through the motions. Foundation, mascara, lipstick—each stroke of the brush felt like a battle. Your hands trembled as you buttoned your shirt, deliberately avoiding the mirror’s gaze. The loose fabric offered some camouflage for what lay beneath, but getting into pants felt like a daunting task. Thankfully, you had some in relaxed fit that would make it easier.

After a quick spritz of cologne, you slipped into the heaviest, most oversized faux fur coat you could find. It still did little to conceal your enormous belly, but you took a deep breath and stepped out of the guest room, ready to face whatever awaited you.

The house was still. Too quiet.

You didn’t check for your husbands. You didn’t care where they were.

Just as your hand twisted the doorknob, Gojo’s grating voice came. “Where are you going?”

You froze, heart sinking. Before you could pretend you hadn’t heard him, Nanami’s calm but firm voice followed. “At least have breakfast. We’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

You didn’t even turn around. You yanked the door open, their startled exclamations muffled as you strode toward the elevator.

The sound of frantic shuffling behind you was almost comical—almost. Gojo tripped over his own feet, cursing under his breath as he tried to jam his socked foot into a sneaker. Nanami, in his haste, had grabbed your old slippers. The sight of his toes spilling over the edges like sad, unbaked croissants might’ve been funny once. Not now.

You didn’t care. Not as the elevator doors opened and you spammed the close button like Toji spammed slot machines. The last thing you saw before the doors slid shut was Gojo sprinting toward you, his face painted with pure panic.

“Wait, baby!”

Nanami immediately abandoned dignity, pivoting to the stairs. He bolted down them like his life depended on it, Gojo hot on his heels. Taking another elevator would not have been faster than their own legs.

The elevator hummed as it descended, a moment of quiet broken only by your heavy breathing.

Idiots. Gojo forgot he could teleport.

When the elevator reached the ground floor, you stepped out into the lobby, your fur coat swishing behind you.

//

The cursed energy hit Gojo and Nanami before they even reached the seventh floor. They skidded to a stop, their gazes snapping to Megumi below.

“Oh, come on,” Gojo groaned, slamming his palm against the glass staircase wall.

“Move,” Nanami barked, vaulting over the railing.

//

The car gleamed obnoxiously in the sunlight, a glaring testament to Haibara’s newfound wealth and complete disregard for subtlety.

Megumi straightened the moment he saw you. His broad frame now mirrored Toji’s, but his expression softened as you approached. He stood beside Haibara’s McLaren 765LT , his tall figure tense and unreadable, broad shoulders casting shadows against the sleek car. His eyes, sharper and colder than they had been in childhood, softened slightly when they met yours.

You walked towards him, your pace steady.

His gaze flicked downward, sensing the cursed energy radiating faintly from your belly. His brow furrowed. “Your…? But you… Did they force—”

“No,” you cut him off, smiling. “Nothing of the sort.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer now. He hesitated before pulling you into a brief, firm hug, careful around your belly. It was awkward, but it was Megumi.

Before you could respond to him awkwardly, Haibara appeared behind you, grinning like a maniac as he wrapped both of you in an overzealous embrace. “Yay! You’re pregnant! The deadbeats get to continue their bloodline. Fantastic! We missed you. He’s sorry, you’re sorry. blah blah blah, but please get in the car before the Cracked Conjurers catch up and turn this into another trending disaster within the same week.” He stepped back, mockingly serious.

You didn’t need convincing.

//

By the time they reached the lobby, you were already next to the McLaren. Megumi’s stance had shifted; his body angled slightly in front of yours, protective. His glare cut toward the approaching Maniacal Magicians .

“Wait!” Gojo’s voice cracked as he closed the distance. His long legs carried him to you in seconds, his hand darting out to grab your arm, firm but desperate. He spun you around, his wide eyes searching yours for something—anything. Nanami caught up right next to him.

“Baby, please,” he rasped. “You can’t run away again. Don’t do this.”

Megumi’s eye twitched. His voice was low, venomous. “Let. her. go.”

Haibara’s grin widened, faux cheer dripping from his tone, but he was just getting murder-happy. “Oh, good, the jujutsu bimbos are here. Too bad she doesn’t want to talk to you.” He stepped closer, adding lightly, “But thanks for showing up, I guess.”

Gojo ignored them entirely, his eyes locked on you.

You sighed, still refusing to look at either of them. “Haibara, where are we going?”

“Office, like you asked.”

You caught Megumi taking a step toward Gojo, his fists clenched. Your hand shot out, pressing against his chest. He froze but didn’t back down.

“Enough,” you said firmly, your voice stern.

Nanami by now had caught up on where you were going, his hand landing heavily on Gojo’s arm holding you hostage. “Let her go,” he said with weighted words.

Haibara snorted. “Ah, the blonde babysitter speaks. Do you wipe his tears too?”

Nanami’s jaw gritted, but he didn’t respond. Gojo hesitated; his cerulean eyes burned with desperation, hand lingering on your arm like you’d asked for his firstborn, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Nanami sharing the same but slightly more hopeful look.

“Let. Me. Go,” you said, glaring at where his arm was still holding you, refusing to make any eye contact, each word dripping with acid.

Finally, Gojo’s hand fell away, but their expressions made it clear they weren’t letting go in any other sense.

You turned and climbed into the McLaren’s backseat without another glance. Haibara slid behind the wheel, but Megumi hesitated, his gaze lingering on Gojo.

“Megs!” you called loudly, your voice snapping him out of whatever storm was brewing in his mind.

He climbed into the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. Haibara hit the accelerator, the engine roaring to life as the car shot forward.

Through the rearview mirror, you caught one last glimpse of Gojo and Nanami. They stood there like abandoned luggage, their expressions raw and hollow.

Gojo’s lips moved as he stared after you, though you couldn’t hear him. It didn’t matter. You weren’t listening anymore.

//

The roar of the McLaren’s engine faded into the distance, leaving behind an oppressive silence that seemed to echo louder than any sound.

Gojo stood frozen, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

Nanami’s composure was cracking at the edges, the tight lines of his jaw and clenched fists betraying his calm.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“She didn’t even look at us,” Gojo said finally, his voice a whisper.

“She shouldn’t have to,” Nanami replied.

Gojo turned to him, his frustration bubbling over. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we’ve given her no reason to.” The weight of Nanami’s stare bore down on Gojo. “We’ve done nothing but hurt her, Satoru. What did you expect? That she’d forgive us because we showed up and begged?”

Gojo’s face fell further, replaced by something brittle. “I just…” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands like it would pull the words free. “I don’t know what to do, Kento.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He looked down at his hands, at the faint tremor in his fingers, and wondered if this was what it felt like to truly lose.

Not a battle. Not a mission. But everything that mattered.

“You can’t fix this with grand gestures or empty words,” Nanami spoke finally. His voice was low, laced with the kind of grief that came from knowing he was speaking the truth. “We betrayed her, Satoru. You can’t undo that overnight.”

Gojo’s laugh was bitter, humourless. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see it every time she looks at me like she’s scared of me?” He turned away, his hands clenched at his sides. “She hates us.”

“No,” Nanami corrected, his tone sharp. “She doesn’t hate us. That would require her to feel something for us. Right now, I think she feels nothing at all.”

The words hit like a blow, and Gojo staggered under their weight. His shoulders slumped, his head dropping forward as if the world had grown too heavy to bear.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then Gojo muttered, “She called Megumi ‘Megs.’”

Nanami glanced at him, frowning. “What?”

“She called him ‘Megs,’” Gojo repeated, his voice breaking. “She hasn’t called me anything since she came back. But she called him Megs. Even after he told her to die back then.”

Nanami didn’t respond. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make it worse.

Gojo laughed again, softer this time, almost to himself. “I don’t even blame her. He turned out to be right that day.”

The admission hung in the air, burning and suffocating.

“She doesn’t need us anymore,” Gojo whispered.

Nanami closed his eyes again. “Maybe she never did.”

The two men walked back to the penthouse—to at least make you lunch—side by side but worlds apart, thinking of the empty street where the car had disappeared. The silence was a chasm neither knew how to cross.

//

In the car, Haibara glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “So, are we calling this a kidnapping or a rescue?”

“Depends,” you replied. “Did you bring the phone?”

Haibara tossed a box onto your lap, smirking. “Brand new. Untraceable. I even downloaded a few games on it for you. You’re welcome.”

Megumi, still fuming, leaned towards Haibara. “Why didn’t you just block them out? I could’ve set up wards.”

“Because I didn’t think they’d act like stray dogs in a thunderstorm,” he shot back.

“They’ve always been like that,” Megumi muttered. “I should’ve punched that white-haired freak of nature.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” Haibara added. “You’d have to punch him twice. Once for his head, once for his ego.”

You let out a faint snort.

“Are you okay?” Haibara asked, his tone softening.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

Neither of them believed you, but they didn’t push.

“HQ’s fifteen minutes out,” Haibara said instead, changing the subject.

You nodded, gripping the phone tightly as you set it up and changed all your old passwords. Work was the only thing that mattered now.

---

After a tense but apologetic exchange with Megumi, the car pulled into your HQ’s heavily secured back entrance. The roar of the crowd outside was impossible to ignore—flashing cameras, yelling reporters, and chaotic energy that hammered against the armoured vehicle like a storm.

Haibara let out an annoyed sigh, scanning the scene. “They’re here too. Persistent little rats.”

He reached into the glove compartment, tossing you and Megumi black baseball caps that obscured half your faces. Haibara donned his own, tugging it low enough to hide the crazy glint in his eyes.

Megumi leaned forward from the back seat. “We should’ve just gone with the helicopter.”

“Next time,” Haibara muttered, cutting the engine.

The second the car doors opened, Megumi’s elite security team—men in dark suits, built like tanks and trained to perfection—descended. Armed to the teeth and moving with military protocols, they formed a protective shield around the three of you.

The reporters swarmed anyway, desperate for a soundbite.

“Do you think your company can recover from the PR nightmare your husbands caused?”

“How does it feel to be married to two terrorists who stormed your own company?”

“Ma’am, are you still running the company, or are you just a figurehead now?”

“Have you left your husbands for the men with you?”

“Ma’am, are you pregnant?!”

The questions were relentless, barbed and ridiculous.

You didn’t flinch. Years of dealing with vultures like these had made your mask of serene confidence unbreakable.

Haibara stepped forward, his posture relaxed but predatory. His smile was polite—on the surface. Beneath it lay the threat of a man who could snap necks like twigs. “That’s a lot of questions for people who clearly haven’t touched grass in years.”

Beside you, Megumi moved like a shadow, his presence a silent menace. His broad frame created an impenetrable barrier between you and the cameras, a hand resting lightly on your back to steer you forward, not letting the vultures trip you.

One reporter, bolder than the rest, shoved a mic toward him. “And who are you to her?”

Megumi turned his head slowly, his icy gaze enough to make the reporter take a step back. His voice was calm but laced with warning. “Someone who doesn’t owe you an explanation. Now move before I turn your camera into a souvenir.”

The reporter stumbled back, unnerved, but another one yelled, “Are you replacing her husbands? You seem better qualified!”

Haibara let out a humourless laugh, glancing at you with mock glee. “Do I get to punch one? Just one. I’ll even aim for the softest one here.”

“No,” you replied dryly, though your lips twitched in amusement.

The questions kept coming.

“Ma’am, are you using these men as a PR stunt?”

“Are your husbands here today, or are they still hiding after embarrassing you publicly?”

“Are the babies of the men with you?”

That one made you pause, your gaze snapping to the reporter who’d dared to ask.

Before you could respond, Haibara’s hand shot out, shoving the mic away with just enough force to send a message. His grin turned feral. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure your next headline is about your missing teeth.”

Megumi leaned down, whispering something to one of his men. Within seconds, the security team swept through the crowd like a well-oiled machine. Cameras, phones, and recorders were confiscated ruthlessly.

One reporter, smugly scribbling notes on a notepad, thought he was safe—until Haibara snatched it from his hands. Maintaining unbroken eye contact, he calmly folded it into a paper aeroplane and launched it into a nearby fountain.

“Oops,” he said flatly, his grin widening.

“Let’s go,” Megumi murmured, his hand firm against your back.

The chaos peaked when one particularly brave—or stupid—reporter blocked your path, shouting, “Were you in on the terrorist attack, ma’am? Our sources say it was an insurance scam to profit off the damages!”

You stopped, tilting your head slightly, your expression one of mild curiosity.

“An insurance scam?” you repeated, your voice cool.

The reporter smirked, thinking they’d rattled you.

Your smile turned sharp. “Let me clarify something. My company is insured against such incidents—because I’m a realist. However, we haven’t filed any claims for damages. I paid for everything—repairs, property damages, even severance packages—out of my personal account. Feel free to verify that with your so-called ‘sources.’”

The reporter faltered, but you weren’t done.

“You’re so eager to harass me, but I see none of you going after the men responsible. They’re living their lives unbothered, while I’m treated like the villain because I’m a woman running a trillion-dollar company.”

Your gaze shifted to the reporter who had posed the question, curiosity mingling with a hint of challenge as your eyes narrowed. You stepped closer, causing the reporter to instinctively back away. “I recognize you,” you said, a smirk playing on your lips. “You’re from that charming little news channel that spread those ridiculous rumours about me—what was it again? That I used to be a man? Because no woman could possibly be this innovative as a CEO?” You gestured to your stomach, where the curve of your pregnancy peeked out from beneath your coat. “Clearly, that’s not the case.”

The crowd buzzed, whispers breaking out.

“And yes, I’m carrying their twins,” you continued smoothly. “But don’t make the mistake of seeing my children as extensions of their fathers. I will make sure they are nothing like them.”

You smiled at the reporters, unfriendly.

“So, next time you want to spread baseless rumours, try using more than half a brain cell. Someone might sue you. And it won’t be me—because I have people for that.”

You turned on your heel, striding toward the entrance with Megumi and Haibara flanking you like demons in suits. The reporters were stunned into silence, their cameras and recorders confiscated, notes destroyed, and pride in tatters.

Megumi said nothing, his eyes calculating as they swept over the crowd one last time. Whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself.

---

After addressing your employees in the sprawling courtyard, you apologized again for your husbands’ disastrous acts. The team’s murmurs had shifted from confusion at your sudden appearance to understanding—your candour and willingness to take responsibility were part of why they worked for you. You weren’t one of those CEOs who didn’t take accountability and/or fix things.

“Thank you for your patience,” you’d said, your voice calm but resolute. “This company has survived, and we’ll come out of this stronger. Now, back to work—this DLC won’t finish itself.”

A smattering of laughter followed as you dismissed them.

Once inside your office—a sleek space overlooking the city skyline—you immediately collapsed into your ergonomic chair. Haibara scanned the room, his MI6 instincts kicking in as he checked for anything out of place. Megumi moved to the large sofa by the window, setting up his laptop and pulling out his noise-cancelling headphones. Ready to start his workday for his own security solutions company.

“Breakfast?” Haibara asked, already halfway to the door.

“Something fast and edible for three-in-ones,” you replied, pointing to your stomach. “And chocolate mousse. I don’t care if it’s not breakfast-appropriate—I need it.”

Haibara smirked. “At ten in the morning?”

“Let me celebrate being the first man to ever get pregnant in peace,” you said sarcastically, shooing him away.

He snorted but left without another word.

Megumi had settled into his corner, his focus already glued to his screen. You appreciated the quiet hum of his laptop—it was grounding, steady. Unlike your husbands, he didn’t fill the silence with needless chatter or make excuses to hover. He let himself be there, letting his actions speak for themselves, and you appreciated it more than you could say.

Reaching for the intercom, you pressed the button. “Get me, Dove.”

Your assistant’s voice crackled through. “The one with the unhinged game ideas?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “Right away.”

You didn’t miss the confused edge in his voice.

Fifteen minutes later, Dove stepped in. Her oversized hoodie was emblazoned with the company’s latest title, and her caffeine-fueled energy radiated off her in waves. She fidgeted, looking like she’d been summoned to her execution.

“Take a seat,” you said, gesturing to the chair across from you. “Want something to eat?”

She shook her head quickly, her knee bouncing under the table.

You texted her department head: “ Make sure Dove eats today. If she’s caught snorting coffee beans again, you’ll find yourself with no one reporting to you and reassigned to a position where you’ll be working solo. ”

Turning your attention back to Dove, you folded your hands. “You’re the one who suggested turning my husbands into horror game villains, right?”

Dove froze, colour draining from her face. “Uh… yes. But it wasn’t a serious pitch—I mean, I didn’t think it was—”

“Good,” you interrupted. “Make it serious. I don’t care if it’s a DLC or a full standalone title. Make it as unhinged as possible. Tank their reputations if you have to.”

Dove blinked. “Seriously?”

���Excuse me?” Your tone grew authoritative, though the glint in your eye betrayed your amusement.

Her face lit up, a manic grin spreading across her lips. “I mean—yes! Absolutely. This is going to be so good. Thank you for letting me be my true self!”

“Don’t disappoint me,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “HR will be in touch about your promotion.”

But Dove was already halfway out the door, mumbling to herself about game mechanics and voice actors, her hoodie strings flapping wildly.

From the corner, Megumi smirked faintly, his eyes flicking up from his laptop. “You’re really giving her free rein on this?”

“She’s good. Let her cook,” you replied simply.

You shot a quick Slack message to the CHRO: “ Process Dove’s promotion immediately. Increase comp to match senior developers. She’ll be working on something high-risk, high-reward. ”

Soon after, Haibara returned with bags of food, setting them on your desk with a flourish. “Breakfast for three and two,” he announced.

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s safe, right?”

“Triple-checked,” he said, pulling out neatly labelled containers. He handed you one.

Megumi glanced up. “Got anything for me?”

“Of course. You’re still growing, after all,” Haibara teased, tossing him a box.

Megumi caught it with a deadpan expression, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help it, Grandpa. It runs in the family. You know, like your prehistoric wisdom.”

Haibara feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “Prehistoric? I prefer vintage. Besides, I’m not that much older than you!”

“True,” Megumi pointed out. “But you are older than her, and I’m younger than her, which makes you practically a fossil. Tell me, what was it like inventing fire? Did it take a lot of R&D?”

“Fire?” Haibara snorted. “Back in my day, we didn’t even have matches. We had to walk uphill both ways, barefoot, to borrow fire from the neighbour’s cave. And don’t get me started on dial-up internet.”

“Dial-up?” Megumi shook his head, smirking faintly. “Sounds like medieval torture. ‘Your honour, I sentence you to AOL.’”

Haibara, already chewing, gestured wildly. “Well, at least our self-esteem didn’t hinge on likes and TikTok dances. You lot cry over one bad comment. Back then, we had entire poke wars on Facebook!”

“Poke wars?” You interjected, trying to suppress your laughter. “That sounds like a euphemism for something wildly inappropriate.”

Megumi tilted his head, faux-serious. “Sounds more like an HR summoning waiting to happen.”

You snorted mid-bite, turning your laugh into a mini-coughing fit. “Ugh, I think I just choked on the weight of your outdated humour.”

Haibara grinned, patting your back. “See? Even the food agrees I’m intellectually superior.”

Soon the conversation shifted as Haibara leaned forward, his grin turning mischievous. “So, about that horror game, I overheard the buffering girl muttering about. What if we make one of your husbands cry every time the player loses? Real tears. Full mocap. I’m talking cinematic trauma .”

Megumi chuckled softly, not looking up from his laptop. “Too subtle. Make them bosses you can only beat by insulting them. The more personal, the better.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “Cross-platform compatibility, unhinged marketing, and emotional catharsis? We’d break pre-sale records.”

“Or start a lawsuit,” Megumi added dryly.

“Then we’ll counter-sue for emotional damages,” you said smoothly, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “And knowing Dove, she’s probably already plotting how to make a multiplayer mess with five DLCs.”

“Remind me to never piss you off,” Haibara muttered, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you replied, chewing.

After that, the three of you ate in companionable silence, the kind only years of friendship could create. Haibara cracked jokes about the absurdity of corporate life, Megumi made dry remarks about Dove’s inevitable rise to cult status, and you—despite yourself—felt the weight on your chest lift slightly.

---

When you left your office to meet a senior VA, Kenjiro Tsuda, the gaming HQ was buzzing with its usual chaotic energy. Mechanical keyboards clacked furiously, RGB lights glowed like a cyberpunk rave, and somewhere in the distance, someone blasted a remix of “ Look at this graph Gone Wrong ” mashed with death metal.

As you walked by, conversations quieted, heads turning in your direction. Employees who were already working doubled down, typing like their lives depended on it. Others grabbed random papers, pretending to read them. One was even reading the in-house lunch menu with the intensity of a SWOT analysis.

“Morning, boss!” a junior developer called out, waving a little too enthusiastically.

“Morning, Jack,” you replied, nodding with a small smile but not slowing your stride. Haibara and Megumi flanked you, their imposing presence drawing whispers.

“Uh… who’s the muscle?” someone muttered, eyes wide.

“Security detail,” another replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“They’re built like they maxed out strength stats at character creation,” a third chimed in.

“Is that the Exo suit guy? Someone please get me his number!” a product manager whispered, practically swooning.

Haibara caught wind of that. He flexed his bicep without removing his hand from his trousers, and pulled his sunglasses down just enough to shoot her a wink. He continued walking alongside you and Megumi, exuding effortless charm.

The product manager nearly fainted, clutching her keyboard like it was a life raft.

---

By noon, Dove had already assembled a team. The conference room was packed, with employees chatting animatedly as they waited for you to start. The meeting ran smoothly, and by the end, the team had transitioned into post-meeting chatter, unbothered by hierarchy.

That was when Francisca leaned across the table, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Boss, about turning your husbands into NPCs... cool if we give them negative stats?”

“Like charisma set to zero and a special ability called gaslighting,” someone added.

“Or make them lootable!” Haibara chimed in, grinning. “They could drop useless items like half-baked apologies and expired promises.”

Megumi smirked faintly, still clicking away on his laptop. “Program them to flee when faced with accountability. Though the AI coding might be too complex for that.”

You couldn't help but laugh. “If this game ever happens, you’re all getting royalties,” you said with a smile. "Sam, please open a mailing account so employees from all departments can send in their ideas and share the access with Dove’s team to sort them out,” you instructed your assistant, then turned to the team. "Now get back to work before I change my mind.”

The team groaned but obeyed, their chatter following them out.

---

The calm didn’t last.

Around two p.m., the courtyard was alive with laughter as the rare winter sun cast a golden glow over your employees. Conversations ebbed and flowed, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. You sat with your CHRO and CFO, enjoying a rare moment of levity that softened the lines of tension on your face that had settled in recent months. The three of you were discussing the budget allocation for the 'villain energy' game, as Dove had deemed it in the absence of an official title yet.

“Why are there clowns at the entrance?” Your CHRO whispered, leaning in.

Your stomach sank.

“They’re not clowns,” your CFO muttered darkly. “Clowns have jobs.”

The courtyard fell silent as Nanami and Gojo entered, a contrast to the lighthearted energy moments before.

Your employees exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or run. One bold soul—a wildcard who always seemed to be on the verge of a write-up—stood up.

“Can we help you gentlemen find the exit?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, short-lived as Nanami’s cold gaze swept over them. Conversations died mid-sentence. People stared at the walls, the ground—anywhere but at the two men who had turned their vibrant courtyard into a mausoleum of awkwardness.

You didn’t look at them. Rising from your chair with the help of your CHRO—damn these low sofas and your swollen ankles—and began walking toward the building. Your heels clicked sharply against the floor, each step deliberate.

“Baby, wait—” Gojo’s voice cracked.

You froze for a fraction of a second.

Is he fucking insane?

After everything?! The gall!

Of course, he would; he hadn’t held a job where he wasn’t the all-mighty in his life.

It was humiliating behaviour in the workplace, and Nanami didn’t even bother to correct him.

The sheer nerve of it sent heat creeping up your neck. To call you that here, in your office, after nearly destroying it?

You didn’t turn around. You wouldn’t dignify his words with a response. Your stride grew more aggressive as your CHRO and CFO fell into step beside you. The conference room door clicked shut behind you, sealing them out.

Megumi materialized like a shadow and with a twist of his neck motioned for the men to follow him to the farthest corner of the courtyard.

Once the men had followed him in, he crossed his arms, eyes colder than the winter air outside. “You’re trespassing.”

Nanami, the unpaid diplomat, held up the bag. “We’re just here to deliver food.”

“For who?” Megumi asked, his voice flat.

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his desperation bubbling over. “For our fucking wife ,” he snapped.

Haibara walked in behind Megumi, his presence casual but razor-sharp. He carried his own takeout bags, the logo from your favourite date-night-only restaurant glaringly visible. Nanami’s gaze lingered on it, his chest tightening.

“Why are they here?” Haibara asked Megumi, his tone light but loaded. “Didn’t you want to shoot them if they showed up again?”

Megumi shrugged. “I’m getting there.”

He exchanged a look with Haibara—silent, efficient, unspoken understanding passing between them—that the men had teleported inside somehow and they could not kill them anymore since they gained so much attention on social media, especially with you pregnant with their offspring. It would be too stressful for you.

Nanami felt it like a slap. The connection between them was something even he’d never had with Haibara.

“Hello, Haibara,” Gojo said, his charm forced.

Haibara barely glanced at him, unimpressed.

Nanami’s voice softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through. “You’re still going to act like we weren’t friends?”

Haibara tilted his head, his smile nonchalant. “Hmm. Don’t remember.” He handed a bag to Megumi and gestured toward the conference room door. “Let’s go.”

Gojo looked genuinely baffled. “How do you not remember me? I’m me!”

“That explains it,” Haibara replied without missing a beat.

Nanami would have surprise-snorted if the situation was different. Haibara was never the one who’d understood sarcasm, even if it hit him with a pan. But this Haibara was cunning.

Megumi smirked faintly. “Maybe you should get your name tattooed on that billboard you call a forehead.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “She hasn’t been eating properly. She needs homemade food.”

“She’s fine,” Haibara said, holding up his own takeout bag. “See? Covered. Now go cry somewhere else.”

“Please, Haibara,” Nanami said quietly, his tone raw. “We just want to help.”

Megumi’s glare turned lethal. “Help? Like you ‘helped’ her move to another country, isolated her, and left her dependent on you, only to abandon her when she needed you most?”

The words hung heavy in the air, cutting deeper than anything else could have.

Haibara sighed dramatically, breaking the tension. “Let’s not waste time. Give me the food, and we’ll decide if it’s worth sharing. If not, I’m feeding it to the pigeons.”

Gojo started to protest, but Haibara held up a hand. “And no, you’re not feeding the pigeons yourselves. They deserve better.”

He turned to leave, but Nanami’s voice stopped him.

“Yu.”

Haibara froze mid-step.

The name hung between them; a thread tied to a past Nanami wasn’t sure still existed.

For a moment, Haibara didn’t turn around. Then, slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “What?”

Nanami hesitated, his voice softer now. “You really don’t remember me?”

---

Within the hour, you sat in front of the camera, the live feed streaming to major news channels and platforms. The room was stark and professional; the company logo displayed discreetly behind you. Your hands rested on the table, folded loosely, your expression calm yet unyielding. You had opted to do this in only your shirt, no coat, for reasons the world was about to learn.

The light on the camera blinked red.

“Good evening,” you began, your voice steady but weighted with unspoken truths.

A/N: Thanks for making it to the end! Now, a quick poll because I need to know where your chaos alignment lies: Let me know your choice in the comments! Bonus points for creative write-ins😏

Next chapter will be out on friday :P

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[wosos-stuff]

The journal of secrets

Chapter 5: The Moment of Truth (The last chapter)

Y/N wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending.

Over the past few days, she had tried to put distance between herself and Alessia—tried to convince herself that it was for the best. But every time she saw Alessia, whether it was on the pitch or in the locker room, the knot in her chest tightened. It was like her heart was pulling her in two different directions: one part of her desperate to stay close to Alessia, the other terrified of what that closeness might mean.

She wasn’t ready to admit what was really going on—not to herself, and definitely not to Alessia.

And so, she started avoiding her.

It wasn’t easy. They were on the same team, training together almost every day. But Y/N found little ways to distance herself—making excuses to leave early, avoiding Alessia’s gaze during practice, choosing different teammates to sit with in the locker room. It was cowardly, and she knew it. But it was the only way she could keep herself from falling apart.

The problem was, Alessia wasn’t blind. Y/N could see the confusion and hurt in her eyes every time she brushed past her, every time she pretended not to notice Alessia standing nearby. And that only made the knot in her chest twist even tighter.

It was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.

---

The Arsenal team had gathered for a team bonding night—a casual evening at a local restaurant, filled with laughter, food, and plenty of banter. Normally, Y/N would have enjoyed it. She loved these nights with her teammates, the camaraderie, the shared stories, the jokes that never seemed to end.

But tonight, all she could think about was Alessia.

She had done her best to keep her distance, choosing a seat at the opposite end of the table from Alessia, laughing along with her teammates even though her heart wasn’t in it. But no matter how hard she tried, her eyes kept drifting back to the other end of the table, where Alessia sat, looking as radiant as ever.

Except tonight, there was something different in the way Alessia carried herself—something quieter, more reserved. She wasn’t her usual bubbly self, her laughter not quite reaching her eyes. And every time their gazes met, even from across the table, Y/N felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

Halfway through the night, Alessia stood up and excused herself, heading outside for some fresh air. Y/N watched her go, her heart sinking. She knew she should follow her, knew she should finally have the conversation they had both been avoiding. But fear rooted her to the spot.

“You’re being an idiot, you know,” Katie McCabe said from beside her, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “You’re miserable. She’s miserable. What are you waiting for?”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue. Katie was right, and she knew it. She was miserable. And the longer she stayed silent, the worse it got.

With a deep breath, Y/N pushed her chair back and stood up, ignoring the curious glances from her teammates as she headed outside after Alessia.

The night air was cool against her skin as she stepped out of the restaurant, her heart pounding in her chest. She spotted Alessia standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared off into the distance.

“Alessia,” Y/N called out softly.

Alessia turned at the sound of her voice, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you want, Y/N?”

The sharpness in her tone made Y/N’s chest ache. She deserved it—she knew that. She had been avoiding Alessia, pushing her away without any explanation. But hearing the hurt in Alessia’s voice, seeing the way her shoulders tensed—it made everything so much worse.

“I just…” Y/N trailed off, unsure of how to even begin. “I don’t know.”

Alessia’s jaw clenched, and she shook her head, clearly frustrated. “You don’t know? That’s your answer? You’ve been avoiding me for days, and you ‘don’t know’?”

Y/N winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to what?” Alessia cut in, her voice rising. “You didn’t mean to shut me out? Didn’t mean to act like I don’t exist?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, guilt crashing over her like a wave. She had hurt Alessia—there was no denying that. And the worst part was, she didn’t even have a good explanation for why she had done it.

“I just… I didn’t know what else to do,” Y/N said quietly, her voice trembling. “This whole thing—it’s confusing, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Alessia stared at her, the anger slowly fading from her expression, replaced by something softer. Something more vulnerable. “What do you mean?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it—the moment she had been dreading, the moment when she would have to lay everything out in the open. But the fear of losing Alessia, of ruining everything, kept her rooted in place.

“I just…” Y/N’s voice faltered, her throat tight. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve just been—”

“Scared?” Alessia finished for her, her voice softening.

Y/N blinked, surprised. “What?”

Alessia took a step closer, her eyes searching Y/N’s face. “You’re scared. I get it. I’ve been scared too.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “You have?”

Alessia nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. I mean, this whole thing—it’s complicated, right? We’re teammates, and we’ve been pretending for so long, I didn’t know where the line was anymore.”

Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat, her eyes stinging with the weight of everything she had been holding back. “I didn’t know either,” she whispered.

---

The restaurant lights glowed dimly through the windows behind them as Y/N and Alessia stood in the cool night air, their breaths fogging in front of them. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them thick with unsaid words. Y/N could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She didn’t know where to begin—how to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside her.

“I’ve been scared,” Alessia admitted softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “Because… I don’t know where we stand anymore.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She wanted to say something, anything, to fix the distance that had grown between them. But the truth felt too big, too overwhelming.

“I started pulling away because…” Y/N paused, taking a shaky breath. “Because I didn’t know if I could keep pretending.”

Alessia looked at her, confused. “Pretending?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly. “This whole fake relationship thing… It started out as a way to, I don’t know, throw people off or whatever. But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling fake.”

She could see the realization dawning in Alessia’s eyes, the way her expression shifted from confusion to something deeper—something that mirrored the same fear and hope Y/N had been feeling.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know if you felt the same way, and I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

Alessia’s eyes softened, and she took a small step closer, closing the gap between them. “Y/N, I—”

“I was scared that if I told you how I really felt,” Y/N interrupted, her voice trembling, “you wouldn’t feel the same. And then I’d lose you for real.”

For a moment, Alessia didn’t say anything. She just looked at Y/N, her eyes filled with something Y/N couldn’t quite read. Then, slowly, Alessia reached out and took Y/N’s hand, their fingers intertwining.

“I’ve been scared too,” Alessia said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because… I started to feel the same way.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. “You… you did?”

Alessia nodded, her thumb gently brushing over the back of Y/N’s hand. “Yeah. Somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling like a game to me too.”

---

The world seemed to stop in that moment, the space between them filled with the weight of everything they had been too scared to say. Y/N could feel the warmth of Alessia’s hand in hers, could feel the steady thrum of her own heart pounding in her chest. And for the first time in weeks, the knot of fear and doubt that had been twisting inside her began to loosen.

Alessia’s gaze flicked down to Y/N’s lips, and Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. She could feel the tension between them building, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

“Is this real?” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Alessia smiled softly, her eyes warm and full of emotion. “Yeah. It’s real.”

And then, without another word, Alessia closed the distance between them, her lips brushing softly against Y/N’s in a kiss that was gentle and tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But as soon as their lips met, everything else faded away—the confusion, the fear, the doubt. All that mattered was the warmth of Alessia’s touch, the way her hand tightened around Y/N’s, grounding her in the moment.

Y/N’s heart swelled, a flood of emotions rushing through her all at once. The kiss deepened, slow and tender, filled with all the words they hadn’t been able to say. It was a promise, a question, and an answer all in one.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting together, Y/N let out a shaky breath, her heart still racing.

“That felt… real,” Y/N whispered, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Alessia chuckled, her eyes shining with warmth. “Because it is.”

---

They stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, the weight of everything they had been through finally starting to lift. Y/N could feel the warmth of Alessia’s hand in hers, could feel the steady rhythm of her breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t scared.

She wasn’t scared of what came next, wasn’t scared of the complications that might arise from being teammates and now something more. All she knew was that she didn’t want to keep pretending.

“So… what now?” Y/N asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alessia smiled, her eyes soft. “Now… we make this real. No more pretending.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with hope, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I’d like that.”

Alessia leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s forehead before pulling back, her gaze warm and full of promise. “Me too.”

As they stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the night, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was the real beginning—like everything that had come before had been leading up to this moment.

And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t afraid of what came next.

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

Thank you for reading

[miausterx0x]

JEFF THE KILLER HEADCANONS

CW: killing, stalking, scars, addiction

OKAY POSTING THIS NOW. I might do a part two sometime, he rots in my brain so im bound to come up w new ideas and stuff but for now this'll do :thumbs_up:

GENERAL STUFF

White, Italian-American but he's not too connected with his Italian heritage

In his early to mid 20s, ran away from home after committing his crimes when he was around 16 and he became a proxy for Slenderman after being on the run for 2 years, making him 18 when he was recruited

Jeff the bisexual, not that he realized/accepted it for a long time

Around 5’8’’/178cm, probably tells ppl he’s taller ngl

He's got light blue eyes and naturally brunette hair that he dyes black

He got into a burn accident when he was younger, an incident that finally flipped a switch on him for good

The burn marks are mostly spread across his upper body, his legs are pretty much free of any damage

The gushes on his cheeks never healed properly or closed as he did them poorly, leaving the edges ripped and uneven

The pain it caused has numbed overtime and he rarely feels it anymore

He managed to partly blind himself by having gone ahead and tried cutting his bottom eyelids in a poor attempt at stopping himself from ever crying (he was a mess and struggling with himself at that point) but he couldn't go fully through with it after he freaked himself out with the damage it did to his left eye

He's got scars all over his body, most of them are from fights with others

He actually wears those battle scars with pride, in his mind they make him seem cool and strong and he even brags about them

Very, very, VERY rare to see him without face paint on. It's not that he’s trying to conceal the damage his face has gone through, he just thinks the white face paint fits him better. Live laugh love guyliner as well

His makeup is waterproof and he even sleeps in it multiple nights in a row, he doesn’t care, he'll just touch it up if he needs to

His eyesight is below average but in his opinion he sees just fine even when he has to squint

PERSONALITY

He can be an annoying bastard when he wants, it's natural for him to be an asshole

If you're a stranger to him he has no problem being borderline harassing with his behaviour and it's worse if he's provoked in some way

It's very easy to pick a fight with him as he's easily irritable and when he fights, no matter if it's verbal or physical, it can get real nasty real fast

If you even look at him funny when he's having a bad day, you most likely will end up on his blacklist

That's to say he’s def got some anger issues he never got to work through when he was younger

The easiest way to befriend him is to impress him, otherwise he's not too interested in getting to know you

When one does befriend him and they become closer, they have to endure his playful banter, jokes and his smug behaviour

He's egoistical for sure. Whether his massive ego is a cover up for his issues with himself he'll never tell.

If you stroke his ego he’ll probs smirk to himself and receive it with no problem, but too much is too much and he’ll get annoyed cause then he just feels like you’re either not serious or you want something from him

Needless to say he prioritizes himself and the people he actually cares about, otherwise he's indifferent or dismissive of others

He's pretty much an ambivert. He can be by himself fine and he prefers it most of the time but he also seeks out the presence of other people from time to time

he’s also kind of an attention hogger, blame that on growing up with his parents not caring enough (doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad attention, both satisfy him)

He’s kind of reckless, rather acts before he thinks and sometimes it works in his favor, sometimes it bites him in the ass and if someone were to point that out he’d probably curse them out or something (he’s bad at admitting he’s wrong)

MUSIC PREFERENCES

He definitely thinks of himself as a music connoisseur of sorts

He’s a huge fan and listens to music pretty much whenever he can

He’s also got different playlists for different vibes. For example when he goes out (to kill) on his own he likes to listen to something that’ll pump up his adrenaline but then again when the night falls and he’s left awake staring at the ceiling he also likes calmer music that is almost melancholic in sound

And he thinks his music taste is better than yours, no debate about that (unless you introduce him to something new that he likes, then he’ll be a bit reluctant about complimenting your taste)

He’s probably sneaked into concerts as well as stolen merch, which btw all his shirts with graphics on them are just merch of bands he likes

If his music taste were to be described with genres his taste would fall into metal and goth and their subgenres

He actually got into the goth scene through Jane when they were young. She had introduced him to the type of music she liked and he actually found himself liking the sound and researched different subgenres on his own time. Would he admit that Jane got him into it? Probably not, if anything he’d give her just a little credit

He's more focused on the melody of the song rather than the lyrics. He might not even know the lyrics to his favorite songs because he thinks the melody on its own is banging enough

Some bands I think he’d specifically like are She Wants Revenge, Slipknot, Type O Negative, Korn, Lebanon Hanover, Twin Tribes and Mareux

When he was younger he used to be a big emo, now he slightly cringes at the thought yet finds himself sometimes revisiting the songs and bands he used to listen to on loop when he was in his teens

FASHION

He’s not too particular with his clothes, most often he steals the stuff he wears from his victims

He does like alt and edgier fashion though but he doesn’t care to specifically seek out for clothes that fall into that style too much

Accessories are a different thing. He's like a crow when it comes to cool jewelry and might even target someone just to steal a spike bracelet from them

A big lover of his white hoodie. It’s almost like a part of him and he even feels weird going out without it

^ And it’s often covered in dried blood. He views the stains as some sort of trophy from his successful kills and is against washing it unless someone actually makes him do that (but that would only happen after a ridiculous amount of resistance from him)

His wardrobe mostly consists of dark colors, apart from the couple of white tops he has

Knowing Jeff’s preferences, Nina sometimes alters his clothes and makes them more fitting to his aesthetic, which despite his act of indifference he sort of appreciates

He’s got a few piercings and he’s done all of them himself except for his snakebites

The first time he pierced himself he got his ear infected and Jack had to treat it

After that he's got the hang of it and has been free of any serious infections

His snakebites were the first piercings he ever got when he was young, approximately 15 or so. He got them done by some shady guy in some even shadier circles he hung around in as an act of rebellion against his parents

FOOD & DRINKS

He's not picky with food, like at all

Sure there are things he doesn't like but he eats pretty much anything

When he was on the run after attacking his family he didn't really have much options and ate whatever he could find just to keep alive and going

His favorite type of food is homemade meals and he prefers to cook his own food if he can, partly because of his distrust to others

And he's decent at cooking. He learned when he was young and still living at home but everyone has the impression of him that he can't cook for his life

Loves a good ol’ Monster Energy, the drink is imprinted on him since early age

The type of guy to forget to drink water tbh, he’s kind of dismissive when it comes to taking care of himself in general

BAD HABITS

Killing and stalking, obviously

Depending on his mood he may take his victims out quickly with a simple stab to satisfy his craving for control for the moment, but at times he can get brutal to the point he leaves an impossible mess

He's not a long term stalker if he plans on killing some stranger. He'll follow them throughout one evening and be done by the night

Though sometimes he'll get curious about other people’s habits and way of operating, and he may follow or watch them out of sight to gain more information

He's a regular smoker and he’s not planning on quitting it

Steals a new pack in advance every chance he gets. He does go through one fairly quickly after all

Also a drinker. He's not addicted like he is with nicotine but when he drinks he often takes it too far, drinking too much too quickly

Sometimes it's a choice, sometimes he just loses track of his limits yet he would insist he meant to get shitfaced, thinking that works better for his image

HABITS/FREE TIME

He’s the type to consider killing as his habit but apart from that there are a few other things he finds himself drawn to

Music, as said before, is a big part of his daily life. He likes to just hang in his room and have music in the background, usually blasting it from some busted stereo he found one day

A knife collector and he has favorites based on how many kills he's gotten with them, how he got them and the style of the knife. Will ramble about them if you don't shut him up fast enough

He used to draw fairly regularly when he was still young but over the years he's sort of dropped it. He might still doodle something if he's given a pen and paper and he has nothing better to do, but he doesn't value the habit much at all anymore

i mmmiiiiight do more hcs with the other creeps, lemme know if y'all are interested in hearing me yap abt the others too cause then i'll actually make a point to myself to write them down lololoololo

[rottenherbs]

Saint Like // G.W x reader

Request: Would you write a George x reader where Molly doesn't like George's girlfriend and she's kind of mean towards her but when she sees reader take care of George after he loses his ear she starts to slowly accept her?

Word count: 2.2k

Authors note: finally back to writing! Yippie!! That sickness actually was the worst ive had in years.

[masterlist]

Much love, Saige

———

It hurts to be dismissed by your boyfriend's mother. Year after year you arrive at his home, welcomed by others in his family, banter with his father, and simultaneously given the stark cold shoulder by the woman who gave him life.

It confused you to no end. She never supported the twins' endeavors; she consistently dismissed and shrouded any thought of their joke shop, practically banning any conversation of the idea in the burrow indefinitely. In her own world, Fred and George would magically wake up one day and decide that they wanted to pursue a career that was more lucrative. Her own fear of poverty inflamed her distaste in their aspirations — purely because it had the possibility of their own financial demise. She wanted better for her boys, and unfortunately you were the easy scapegoat to place blame.

It poked and prodded every nerve on you. You wanted nothing but success and love for George and his family, but you were seen as a threat to the possibilities that they might turn out… normal.

—

The climate of the wizarding world was beyond bleak. Everyday you rose to the sun, beyond blessed to be living another day, but filled with anxieties that it truly may be your last.

Your addition to the order was practically mandatory. With no ties to your parents it was easy for you to sign away your life for the greater good. Your heart lied with Goerge and your friends and fighting next to them would be an honor.

As it came up on Harry’s seventeenth birthday, figuring out how to transport the boy became more trivial. The magical protection given to him by his mothers sacrifice would wear off and he would be more vulnerable to Voldemort than ever. Every movement or spell he made was under the view of the ministry and it had to be done with extreme caution.

The burrow was the next safest place for him, but getting him there bred confusion and limited options.

“What if we just had him apparate out?” Ron asked. The order sat around the kitchen table at the Burrow, just days before operation Free Potter.

”He is still underage Ron, it’ll be flagged immediately.” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes slightly. Ron shook his head.

”We’re already breaking the law, why not one more!” He chuffed, disappointed how easily his idea was shut down.

“Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem.” Moody interrupted “He’s made it an imprisonable offence to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here or Apparate in or out.”

The table silenced at his arrival, everyone soaking in the new information and the loss of yet another helper on the inside.

“That’s pointless, he is protected anyway -“ You started. You were honestly just thinking out loud, soon realizing everyone’s eyes on you.

“All that’s done is stop Harry from leaving safely.” You coughed, attempting to find your voice again. Moody shook his head in agreement, those in the order all now speaking among themselves. George arrived at the kitchen taking a spot next to you. He nudged you quietly, smirking down at you.

“Anything juicy?” He whispered, leaning down. You smiled and shook your head no, leaning over to reply.

“Just all hobgobble about how we will get Harry here. Even moody is stumped.” You whispered. George scoffed.

“Moody stumped? Give him like 4 minutes, we’ll be out of here in no time.” He chuffed. The feeling of his hot breath tickled your neck, causing you to shiver slightly. Giggling, you looked over the room, unfortunately making eye contact with Mrs Weasley. She pursed her lips and scowled.

“I think we ought not be distracted.” She stood, walking around the large table to the sink. She stood with her hands firmly on the ledge leaning away from the crowd. As much as you felt targeted by the statement she was right.

“Its risky but it’ll take cooperation… from all yous.” Moody thumped, his fake eye spiraling around the room. Thievery fell into a hush, waiting for what he had to reveal.

“Everyone will be a potter. As many heads as we can round up. They’ll be confused, won’t know who’s who.” He coughed, opening his flask and taking a swig.

“Polyjuice potion?” George asked. It was more of a rhetorical question of course, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Aye boy.” Moody nodded.

“They’ll just kill us all.” Molly shrieked, the idea of everyone now the face of the target became increasingly daunting.

“No they won’t Molly.” Remus coincided. “We ride on brooms, quietly through the night in groups eh” He raised his eyebrows, checking the feelings of the table. Most people nodded in agreement.

“It’s the order Molly. We’ve been in danger from the beginning. It’s not the time to become fearful.” Moody coughed, standing up from the table.

“One month from today. Stay vigilant.” Moody snapped from the room, leaving everyone in silence.

—

The month came and went in a flash. It felt as if the sky was grey every day since that meeting. No sign of summer or joy, only the steep consequences that were to come.

“Hi my love.” George purred from behind you. He wrapped his arms around your torso, resting his head on top of your.

“Hi.” You whispered, leaning back into his body. You both swung lightly in each other's arms enjoying the feeling of peace.

“They just got word of who’s flying.” He mumbled, keeping his head steady. You kept swaying, but your body stiffened slightly at his words.

“You’re going.” You sighed. You knew he would, and you kicked yourself daily for worrying about his demise. It wasn’t exactly a positive situation to be in, but your milling about danger wouldn’t help.

“I know you wish I could stay, but Fred and I fly well, and they need people who are confident in their brooms.” He murmured, rubbing your sides lovingly. He turned you around to face him, his cheeks warm with glow, beaming down at you.

“What am I doing?” You asked, holding his arms tightly. Part of you wished to be in the sky with him, as if your presence could protect.

“You, my beautiful bird-“ George leaned down, kissing your forehead after every word. “You are meant to stay here. Look for signs and send alerts back if anything happens.”

You didn’t respond, you just sighed and smiled.

“I know you wanted to go.” He whispered. “But it’ll be good. A good opportunity to help from the ground.” He smiled. You could tell he was trying to reassure you, his eyes darting between yours looking for any sign of disapproval.

“Okay.” You whispered, leaning up so your nose grazed his. “I’ll be waiting for you, and you better come back in one piece.”

—

The night finally arrived and you spent every waking moment with George. You hated to think it was your last time seeing him, but the reality was clear. Anything could happen tonight and you would be sure that it was spent with him.

After dinner, Moody arrived at the burrow rallying up those who were going.

“5 minutes and we must be out, got it?” He looked around the room, heads nodding in acceptance. He turned to you and Molly, softening his face.

“You two will be the first to know if anything happens. I will send a message once we have left the Dursleys, then we will be back here in approximately 30 minutes.” His eyes widened in question, looking for any look of approval between you two. You dare not look at Molly and keep eye contact with Moody.

“Yes sir.” You choked, the air in your chest seizing.

“Atta girl. Alrig’t move out.” Moody winked, turning on his heel and walking out of the room, numerous bodies following. George paused and jogged over to you, kissing your cheek and squeezing your hand before joining the fray.

Once everyone left the burrow became quiet. Molly soon looked for any way to busy her fingertips knowing she’d have to distract her mind or else she’d go mad. You stood by the window for a short period, looking at the sky and prairie out past the horizon looking for any sign of movement. Hearing a hefty sigh behind you, you turned to face the sound, already anticipating a lecture.

“Could you help me make supper? I bet they’ll be hungry when they get back.” Mrs.Weasley spoke softly, her back turned to you still maneuvering pots and pans in the kitchen. You nodded to yourself and took a deep breath in, walking over near her.

“Maybe start with the potato’s, rid the eyes and peel the skin for me.” She didn’t look at you, instead speaking into her hands, sniffling after ever few words. She wasn’t crying, but you could hear the trouble in her voice clear as day. Grabbing a peeler, you got to work, trying to pass the time as well.

“I hope you know I don’t .. loathe you like you may think.” She whispered, just loud enough so that you’d hear but quiet enough that the words don’t linger in the air.

You stood in silence, peeling the potatoes, confused entirely by her statement.

“I don’t think-“ you lied, thinking it was the right thing to counter, even deep down you felt that she thought you were better off dead most days.

“You have every right to think it.” She snuffed, pausing her work and biting her cheek. “I just….”

“I understand a mothers love.” You whispered, picking up another potato and holding it softly. “I understand wanting the best for your children, but ..” you choked. You didn’t know if you had the confidence to say yet another thing that would make her angry.

“But sometimes their best interest isn’t yours and it’s out of a mothers control what their adult children do.” You finished. You knew it was the truth, but on the heels of Percy abandoning the family it had to have stung just as hard.

Mrs Weasley didn’t respond. She didn’t move her head or acknowledge your statement but stood and pondered what you said. You couldn’t tell if she was boiling with rage or the words finally penetrated the field of deep affection that clouded her judgement so.

Just from the window, a owl rapped the glass, begging to be let in.

“That’s them.” She muttered, wiping her hands on her apron and rushing over to let the owl in.

“Thirty minutes.” She sighed

“Thirty minutes.” You repeated.

Time moved extremely fast after that. You both were taking turns by the window to cool down your nerves with the cold night air. The meal was brewing magically on the stone and didn’t need the tender touch of either of you to finish. Even though very little was said between you two, it felt as if you had become closer because of tonight. At least, we understood a little more about each other retroactively.

The sound of loud snapping wood alerted you both that people were apperating at the burrow. Running out of the burrow, you locked eyes with Harry, who was barreling off of Harris’s motorbike, stumbling towards the house.

“Death Eaters, loads of them — we were chased —" Harry coughed, falling into Mrs.Weaslys arms. Your mind raced, searching the sky for any one else who would arrive.

“Death eaters-“ You whispered, fear overtaking your body. You could taste the adrenaline in your mouth, a sour foul feeling overcoming your every sense. Luckily the pain of unknowing was only for a moment more, as Lupin and George followed suit.

“George!” You cried, running over to the boy. His hand held the side of his head, blood was dripping down his shoulder and across his cheek.

“I’m okay im okay.” He mumbled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and hoisting himself upon your small frame. You tugged his body indoors, flopping him on the family couch in the living room.

“It’s just my ear darling.” He smiled weakly, his face was pale from the loss of blood but still held your hand tightly. Mrs.Weasley quickly began to tend to her son, allowing you to hold his hand and be with him through it all. Even though you were slightly inconvenient to her tendings, she dare not ask you to move. Both Fred and you had been tied together, your sobs uncontrollable.

“Honestly I think I’m way cuter without an ear. Don’t you think?” George tossed, rubbing your hand affectionately. Mrs Weasley had successfully stoped the bleeding and bandaged what she could, leaving you both alone in the room. Just in the kitchen, Lupin and the order continued to talk about their now sudden loss of Moody and who could be trusted.

“It definitely makes you stand out.” You laughed, finally feeling comfortable in his state. You both smiled at each other, the everlasting admiration you had for him only grew, how resilient and fateful even in the face of death he had been.

“I’ll always get the last laugh-“

[heartiella]

INSTINCT-RIDDEN ⟢ GOJO SATORU

╭┈─ Pairing ⺌ ፧ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

╰╮⺌ Synopsis: As a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High you’ve built a life among curses, students, and the chaos of Gojo Satoru’s presence. Your bond with him has always been a balance of teasing banter and unspoken feelings, but as tensions rise in the world of jujutsu sorcery, the lines between duty, friendship, and something deeper begin to blur.

─── ⌕𓈒 Genre , Word count: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, 3.2k.

Tokyo Jujustu High wasn’t quiet. It never was. But as the sun dipped low, steadily casting amber streaks across the sky, there was a rare stillness in the air, a brief quiet before the storm. You had just finished your lesson with the second-years, a session full of curses, strategy drills, and no shortage of snarky remarks from Maki.

Sweat clung to your skin as you leaned against the training hall’s doorway, sipping water from your bottle. The heat of summer, though mild compared to the usual sweltering streets, seemed to cling stubbornly to the mountains. Your cursed technique, one of illusions and improved reflexes, left your body in a perpetual state of tension after prolonged use. Even after years of practice, the strain was still there.

“Still showing off to the kids, huh?”

The familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts. Without turning around, you recognized the lazy, self-satisfied drawl of Satoru Gojo. He leaned casually against the frame of the doorway, his blindfold pushed slightly up to reveal an amused smirk and a faint glint in his crystalline blue eyes.

You raised your eyebrows, wiping your forehead with a towel. “Unlike you, some of us actually teach during our lessons.”

“Oh, is that what you call it? From what I saw, it looked more like showing off,” he teased, sauntering closer. “Very flashy, by the way. The illusion you created during Maki’s sparring round? Chef’s kiss. Delectable, even.” He punctuated his words with an exaggerated hand gesture.

“It’s called effective teaching, Gojo,” you said, turning to face him. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You’re too busy ‘improvising’ during your lessons.”

“Hey now, I’m great with the kids,” he shot back, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara adore me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Megumi tolerates you. Yuji’s too nice to say anything. And Nobara? She’d probably bury you alive if given the chance.”

Gojo let out a laugh, the sound light and unbothered. “What can I say? I’m an acquired taste.”

“More like a bitter one,” you muttered under your breath, but the corner of your lips twitched upward despite yourself.

“Oh, come on,” he said, stepping even closer, his tone dropping just slightly. “You love having me around.”

“Is that right?” you asked, crossing your arms as you met his gaze head-on. The air between you seemed to shift, the playful banter giving way to something heavier.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant chatter of students and the rustling of leaves filled the space, but it all felt muted, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you. Gojo’s smirk softened, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “I think you do.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling between you. But before you could respond, a loud crash echoed from the other end of the training hall, followed by a string of colorful curses from Panda. The spell was broken, and you stepped back, clearing your throat.

“Sounds like your kids need you,” you said, gesturing toward the noise.

Gojo tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Nice deflection. But fine, I’ll let you off the hook. For now.”

With a wink, he turned and strolled away, his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t have a care in the world. You watched him go, your pulse still racing.

Damn him and his stupid charm.

Later that evening, the campus had settled into a peaceful quiet, save for the occasional murmurs and laughter from the dormitories. You found yourself in the courtyard, seated on a low stone bench beneath a canopy of wisteria. A book rested in your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in over ten minutes.

“Not like you to space out.”

Once again, Gojo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to find him standing a few feet away. He carried two cups of something steaming, which he offered.

“Tea,” he said. “Not poisoned, I promise.”

You took the cup cautiously, the warmth seeping into your hands. “What’s the occasion?”

He shrugged, sitting down beside you—albeit closer than necessary. “Do I need an occasion to be nice?”

You shot him a look. “I would say yes. Yes, you do.”

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound that caught you off guard. For a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the distant chirping of crickets filling the gaps. It was… nice. Unexpectedly so.

They stood there for a moment, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. The wisteria swayed gently above, the soft purple hues illuminated by the dim glow of lantern light. Gojo tilted his head slightly, as if studying her, though the blindfold made it impossible to tell where his gaze truly rested.

“You know,” he began, his tone lighter now, teasing even, “most people would be flattered to spend time with me. You, though? You act like it’s some kind of chore.”

“Maybe because it is,” Y/N shot back with a smirk, crossing her arms. “If you’re looking for gratitude, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Gojo.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and almost disarming. “It’s refreshing, really. Most people can’t seem to see past how amazing I am.”

“Hmm,” she hummed skeptically while sipping tea, though her lips twitched into something resembling a smile. “Maybe it’s because I know your tricks.”

“Tricks?” he echoed, mock-offended. “Y/N, please. You make it sound like I’m not a dream”

“More like an oversized teenager with bad jokes.”

Gojo grinned, leaning slightly closer. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I were gone.”

The sudden shift in tone made her pause.

Gojo… gone?

There was something beneath his playful words—something that hinted at a vulnerability he rarely showed. She opened her mouth to respond, but he straightened, as if sensing the tension he’d created and deciding to brush it off.

Before she could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through the quiet. He sighed dramatically as he fished it out and glanced at the screen. “Ah, duty calls,” he said, his tone flippant, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his expression. “Looks like I have to play the hero somewhere else tonight.”

Y/N raised a brow, unimpressed. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Careful,” he teased, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “You might miss me too much.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth in her chest she wasn’t willing to acknowledge. “Goodnight, Gojo.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice softening just slightly as he turned away.

As he walked off, the scent of wisteria lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of his cursed energy. She stood there for a moment longer, watching him disappear into the shadows before letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Her heart was still racing.

You stood in the courtyard, watching Megumi Fushiguro spar with one of the second-years. His technique was improving, but there was a stiffness in his movements, a hesitance you couldn’t quite ignore.

“Megumi, stop for a second,” you called, stepping forward. The second-year dropped their stance gratefully, retreating to the shade of a nearby tree. Megumi, however, didn’t move—his gaze sharp and steady on you.

“Your stance is too rigid,” you said, motioning for him to approach. “It’s fine for defense, but it leaves you vulnerable in close combat. Try this instead.”

You demonstrated, shifting your weight slightly and holding your hands at a more flexible angle. Megumi mirrored you, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“Better,” you said, stepping back. “But don’t overthink it. Let it flow.”

“Easy for you to say,” Megumi muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Despite his grumbling, there was a flicker of respect in his eyes—a rare concession from someone as guarded as him.

“You’ll get there,” you said, offering a small smile. “Just don’t let Gojo fill your head with nonsense.”

Megumi snorted at that, but before he could reply, a familiar voice cut through the courtyard.

“Talking about me behind my back, Y/N? I’m hurt.”

Gojo Satoru strode into view, his usual grin plastered across his face. He was dressed casually—white shirt untucked, blindfold pushed up to reveal those impossibly blue eyes. He looked every bit the world’s strongest sorcerer and every bit the man who knew it.

Oh how you disliked when men who knew their importance.

“Hardly behind your back,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, flashing a grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating. “Megumi, taking notes from the best, I see.”

Megumi rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, retreating to the sidelines with a muttered, “I’m done for today.”

As he left, Gojo turned his attention to you, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Teaching suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating I wasn’t useful in the field?”

“Not at all,” he said quickly, though there was a teasing tone to his voice. “But you’ve got a knack for this—mentoring, I mean. You’re good with them.”

“Someone has to be,” you replied, your tone lighter now. “Not everyone can survive on charm and theatrics alone.”

Gojo laughed at that, the sound echoing through the courtyard. It was disarming, really, how easily he could shift the mood, how effortlessly he could make you forget the weight you carried.

“Speaking of theatrics,” he said, leaning casually against the nearest tree, “there’s a mission tonight. Thought you might want in.”

You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, though his smirk suggested otherwise. “Just thought it might be nice to work together again. For old times’ sake.”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—not entirely, at least—but missions with Gojo had a tendency to spiral into chaos. Nevertheless, there was a spark of something, curiosity, maybe, or the lingering thrill of a challenge, a trait you could never truly lose—which made you nod.

“Fine,” you said. “But if this turns into one of your spectacles, I’m leaving you to deal with the mess.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, straightening up. “Meet me at the gates in an hour.”

The streets were a blur of neon and shadow as you followed Gojo through the narrow alleyways. The cursed energy in the air was thick, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You could feel the pull of it, the way it twisted and coiled, beckoning you to come closer.

“What are we dealing with?” you asked, voice low.

“A mid-grade curse,” Gojo replied, his tone almost bored. “Shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“And you needed me for this because...?”

He glanced at you, his grin flashing in the dim light. “Because I missed you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the words lingered, settling in a place you couldn’t quite name.

The curse revealed itself in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. It was grotesque—its form a writhing mass of limbs and faces, its presence warping the air around it. You and Gojo moved in a relaxed manner, years of experience making the dance of battle almost effortless.

Your cursed technique of illusions came in handy, disorienting the curse long enough for Gojo to strike the final blow. As the curse disintegrated, the air seemed to clear, the oppressive weight lifting.

“Not bad,” Gojo said, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeves. “You’ve still got it.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” You replied, sheathing your weapon.

“Never,” he said, his tone softer now. “You’re one of the best.”

There was something about the edge of sincerity in his voice that caught you off guard. You met his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed smaller, the city quieting down.

“Gojo—” you started, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“Come on,” he said, his usual grin returning. “Let’s get out of here.”

The walk back to the school was quieter than you expected. Gojo walked beside you, his hands in his pockets, his usual chatter replaced by a thoughtful silence. You found yourself glancing at him, wondering what was going on behind those impossibly blue eyes.

“You’ve changed,” you said finally.

He looked at you, surprised. “Have I?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling, your tone softer. “You’re... less obnoxious.”

He laughed at that, the sound was warm and genuine. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” you said, surprising even yourself.

The school gates came into view, but neither of you made a move to cross them. Instead, you found yourself slowing down, the weight of the atmosphere settling over you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Do you ever think about leaving all this behind?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... this life. The danger, the responsibility. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to just... be?”

His words struck a chord you didn’t realize existed. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the cracks in his armor—the things he carried, the loneliness he tried so hard to hide.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But it’s not that simple.”

“No,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. For the first time, you felt like you were seeing the real Gojo Satoru, not the strongest sorcerer, not the arrogant showman, but the man beneath it all.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“Goodnight, Gojo,” you said, turning away before he could see the emotions flickering across your face.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice carrying a softness that lingered long after you were gone.

The quiet of the evening wrapped around the two of you as the faint sound of the city hummed in the background. Gojo’s hands rested in his pockets, his usual smirk playing on his lips, though there was something unspoken in the way he looked at you now. The air between you crackled with the tension that had been simmering all night.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “you’ve got this way of pretending you’re indifferent to me. But I don’t think you are.”

You rolled your eyes, but the flush on your cheeks betrayed you. “And you have a way of overestimating your charm. Not everyone’s falling at your feet, Gojo.”

He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. “Not everyone. Just you.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down, meeting his gaze, or rather, the space where his eyes were hidden beneath his blindfold. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are.” His voice dipped lower, teasing but edged with something genuine. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You didn’t. Instead, you tilted your chin up, closing the gap between you. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing against your cheek before he pulled you in. The kiss was slow at first, testing boundaries, but quickly deepened, as though all the unspoken words and tension had been building to this moment. He tasted like mint and something saccharine, something so intoxicating that it made your knees threaten to give out.

When you finally pulled away, his smirk returned, softer this time. “You’re full of surprises, Y/N.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Too late.” He leaned in close again, his breath warm against your ear. “We could stay out here, or...”

The implication hung in the air, and you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” he echoed, pulling you back toward him.

The next morning, the sun filtered through the windows of the Tokyo Jujutsu High staff room. You sat at your desk, attempting to grade papers while sipping coffee, though the distraction of the night before lingered in your thoughts. Across the room, Gojo leaned against the doorframe, his signature blindfold replaced with dark sunglasses. He seemed unnervingly casual, but the faint grin tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You didn’t look up as he spoke. “You’re awfully quiet today. No witty remarks? No banter?”

“I’m busy,” you replied, scribbling notes on a student’s assignment. “Some of us actually have work to do.”

“Busy, huh?” He strolled over, leaning down so his face was level with yours. “You didn’t seem too busy last night.”

Your pen froze midsentence, and you shot him a warning glare. “Not here, Gojo.”

Before he could respond, the door burst open, and Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara walked in, their voices filling the room.

“Good morning, sensei!” Yuji greeted cheerfully, waving at you.

“Morning,” you replied, forcing yourself to sound casual.

Megumi raised an eyebrow as his gaze flicked between you and Gojo. “Why are you two acting…weird?”

Nobara, always the sharp one, narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, you’re definitely acting weird. You’re way too quiet, Y/N-sensei, and Gojo-sensei looks…smugger than usual.”

“Smugger? Me?” Gojo placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “I’m always this charming.”

“You’re always this annoying,” Megumi muttered.

Yuji plopped onto the couch, grinning. “Wait, did something happen? Are we missing something?”

“Nothing happened,” you said quickly, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “Gojo’s just being Gojo.”

But Nobara wasn’t convinced. She crossed her arms, her gaze piercing. “Uh-huh. Sure. And why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing,” you lied, turning back to your papers.

Megumi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we just focus on training? Some of us actually want to improve.”

“Training can wait,” Gojo said, his grin widening. “I think we should take a moment to appreciate how observant my students are. It’s impressive, really.”

You shot him a glare that could have frozen fire. “Gojo—”

Before you could finish, Nobara let out a gasp, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait a second. Did you two—”

“Don’t say it,” you interrupted, your voice firm.

But it was too late. Yuji’s jaw dropped, and Megumi looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Oh my god,” Nobara said, pointing between you and Gojo. “You totally did!”

“We didn’t—” you started, but Gojo cut you off.

“Y/N, it’s okay,” he said, his tone mockingly serious. “They’re old enough to handle the truth.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as the students burst into a mix of laughter and groans. Nobara looked equal parts delighted and horrified, Yuji seemed more impressed than anything, and Megumi looked like he regretted every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Later, as the students filed out for their training session, you lingered by the doorway. Gojo stood beside you, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, glancing up at him.

“And yet, here we are,” he replied, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “See you later, Y/N.”

From down the hall, Nobara’s voice rang out. “I knew it!”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

Gojo just laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Probably not. But you love it.”

And, annoyingly, you couldn’t argue with that.

End note: Why did nobody tell me that writing a fan fiction would feel like going to war… traitors.

[mattnickchrisfan]

the games we play - m.s

warnings: pure fluff, tension, dirty talk (not in a sexual way just like flirty banter)

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

"The Games We Play"

Matt Sturniolo had never been the type to chase people. It wasn’t his style—he was chill, laid-back, and let things come naturally. But then… you walked into his life.

It started innocently enough. You were a part of their usual group of friends, someone who everyone liked and who always seemed to be the center of attention. Matt would catch glimpses of you during hangouts, never thinking much of it. You had that reputation, after all—flirty, charming, and the kind of person who never stayed too long in one place. You didn’t get too attached to anyone.

And then, one day, his world shifted.

It was a typical Friday night at Nick’s place, the usual mix of friends piled up on the couch, chatting, laughing, the room filled with comfortable chaos. Matt was at the far end, trying his best to focus on a game, but every time he looked up, there you were—talking to someone, laughing, throwing that playful look around the room, as if you had the power to make everyone hang on your every word.

But when your eyes landed on him, the air shifted. The playful glint in your eyes held something else—a challenge, maybe. You leaned back against the couch, your attention now fixed solely on Matt.

“Hey, Matt,” you said, voice low, teasing. “You seem awfully quiet tonight. Something on your mind?”

Matt’s heart skipped, and he nearly choked on the soda he was sipping. He wasn’t sure if it was your tone or the way you were looking at him, but it made his stomach tighten in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Nah, just focusing on the game,” he muttered, immediately regretting how awkward he sounded. He could feel his face heating up.

“Uh-huh,” you drawled, clearly unconvinced. “You always look so... serious when you play.”

Matt shrugged, forcing his gaze back down at the game in front of him, but the problem was, he couldn’t focus. Not when you were so close, looking at him like you were trying to figure him out. He hated that feeling—that feeling of being under a microscope, like you could see right through him.

“I’m not serious,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him, and a small smirk tugged at your lips. “Mmm, you sure? You seem kind of... intense tonight.”

You were doing that thing again—making him feel like he was in a game he didn’t know the rules for. The way you spoke to him was different from how you talked to everyone else. There was something almost dangerous in it, a challenge that Matt wasn’t sure he was ready to accept.

But despite the way his stomach fluttered nervously, he didn’t back down. “Not intense,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just... trying to win.”

“Is that so?” You leaned in a little closer, dropping your voice to a teasing whisper. “Well, you should know—I’m the one who always wins.”

And just like that, the tension shot through the room like an electric current. Matt’s heart was racing, but he didn’t want to show it. He knew you were just playing with him, messing around as you always did with everyone, but there was something about the way you said it—something that made Matt’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Yeah?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping an octave. “What if I told you I wasn’t afraid of losing?”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief, and for a moment, the whole room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of you now, locked in this little battle, your words dancing around each other like a slow-burning fire.

“You sure about that?” you whispered, barely an inch away now. The scent of your perfume—sweet but spicy—was making Matt’s head spin. “Because I don’t lose, Matt. And I’m not sure you’re ready to play my game.”

Oh, God.

Matt felt his heart rate spike, but he refused to look away, even though everything inside him screamed to look down, to break the intensity that was building between the two of you.

He was already in deep, though. You had him, and you knew it. But for once, he wasn’t pulling back.

“I’m not sure you know how to play a fair game,” he muttered, unable to hide the smile creeping on his lips.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving upward into that infuriatingly perfect smirk of yours. “I don’t play fair. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

The words were a challenge, a dare. And as much as Matt wanted to hold his ground, he couldn’t help but be drawn in by your confidence, by that ever-present allure that seemed to surround you.

He glanced over at Chris and Nick, who were blissfully oblivious to the silent war happening between you and him. The world seemed to have narrowed down to just the two of you. The air was thick, like you were both holding your breath, waiting for someone to make the next move.

It was a moment that lasted forever.

“Maybe that’s why I like you,” Matt said suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You blinked, caught off guard, your smirk faltering just a little. “You like me?” You said the words slowly, as though testing them on your tongue.

“Yeah,” Matt replied, his voice quieter now, almost shy in contrast to his usual cocky demeanor. “I like the game you play. Even if I’m not sure I know how to win.”

The moment hung between you, thick with unspoken feelings. You stared at him for a long time, and Matt thought maybe he’d messed it all up. Maybe he’d pushed you too far. But then, slowly, your expression softened.

“You’re cute, Sturniolo,” you murmured, voice surprisingly tender. “You know that?”

Matt felt his breath catch in his throat. Was this... was this happening?

He cleared his throat, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions flooding through him. “So, what now? Do I just keep playing and hope I’m not losing?”

You leaned closer again, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. His heart pounded, his hands twitching at his sides, desperate to do something—anything—to break the tension. But you held his gaze, not backing down.

“No,” you said softly, just before your lips brushed against his ear. “Now, you stop pretending like you don’t care... and admit that you’re already in way deeper than you ever thought.”

Matt’s breath hitched as your words settled into him, every nerve ending buzzing with the realization that this wasn’t just some playful back-and-forth. This was real. And for the first time in a long while, he didn’t want to run from it.

“You’re playing with fire,” Matt whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You looked at him with that same, daring spark in your eye. “I know,” you said, grinning. “And I think you like it.”

And for the first time, Matt didn’t bother denying it.

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

a/n: woah why is fluff lowkey so fun to write? hope you guys enjoyyyyy

[reddevilmcnt]

Maksim could always tell the exact moment when Ross started to crack under his words. It showed in the way Ross’s blood began to race, his heart pounding several increments faster in uneven bursts that Maksim’s attuned ears could detect without very much effort at all. To be fair, a petty, twisted part of him lived for moments like this------- baiting Ross was far too satisfying, especially since the human seemed to take as much delight in provoking him. However, Maksim couldn’t quite understand why this time Ross had let his banter hit so easily. Ross’s particular brand of boring would eventually sync up with someone else's wants and needs, those belonging to the right mate for him. But then again, Maksim couldn’t forget the breakup Ross had mentioned once, something about a guy who got bored and did walk away. Of course, it was probably more complicated than that. Humans, fickle and treacherous as they were, did possess certain habits of picking up and discarding partners on a whim. But, maybe, it also could've been one of those slow, creeping implosions where the cracks of the relationship spread too gradually to notice until it was too late. Making 'boredom' the most simplified excuse to end it when the real reason could've been far more complex. Either way, Maksim didn’t really care. It wasn’t his problem, and he wasn’t cruel enough to use it against Ross. …Well, that wasn’t entirely true------- he was that much of a dick when he wanted to be. But he wasn’t in the mood to dig at sore spots tonight. That wasn’t why he was here. His penchant for malice had its uses, though it was vastly better spent on battles that mattered.

"Calm down and eat a taco," was all Maksim offered in response to Ross’s rising frustration, his tone deliberately casual and infuriatingly dismissive. Without waiting for a reply, he bit into his own taco, taking a massive bite that demolished half of it in one go. His eyes shot wide open as Ross’s abrupt confession registered, the words sinking in mid-chew. A jumbled snicker escaped him then, in an animalistic sound that made him seem every bit the mongrel people accused him of being, but he couldn’t stop himself. Ross was a riot, genuinely ridiculous in a way that tugged a grin from Maksim no matter how hard he tried to hold it back. At least he wasn’t stuck protecting a human with zero personality or humor. So, not so boring after all. Not that Maksim would ever tell him that. "Hmm... are schoolteachers allowed to say the word 'slutty'? What sort of vocabulary is that?" Maksim drawled, expression a chaotic mix of shit-eating grins and doggish amusement. He took a long drink from his vodka glass, downing it in one go before promptly pouring himself another. Alright, this wasn't... so bad. Not first or second date material (because that would never happen) but tolerable. Maksim frowned at the thought, annoyed that Ross could push his mind in that direction for even just a second. Nevertheless, there were far worse humans out there, ones who couldn’t hold his attention for even half a conversation. This was something. Not friendship, God, no, but civil tolerance. A hey, I won’t let you get murdered out there in the streets kind of vibe. About as close to 'friendly' as Maksim ever wishes to be with a non-werewolf. And for now, that was enough.

"Mmm, I'm always naked," he quips, flashing an infuriatingly arrogant, crooked smile. There’s no hint of a joke in his tone------ he’s entirely serious. "...Not at this very moment, obviously. I couldn't show up to my favorite teacher's apartment like that. What would the neighbors say?" Fuck the neighbors, but yeah, nakedness is pretty standard for a wolf, especially post-shapeshift. He's only returning playful fire.

Maksim doesn’t start feeling the cherry vodka until his fourth glass, a subtle euphoria blooming in his chest, nothing dramatic, just something to set him at ease. His body, always running hot, doesn’t change much outwardly, but the tightness in his massive shoulders melts away, leaving him loose and relaxed for once. A rare reprieve from the usual tightly-wound aggression or paranoia. Ross throws out another wildly inappropriate comment, and Maksim nearly loses it, almost tumbling out of his seat from laughing so hard. What the fuck? "I guess," he manages weakly, voice rough and scratchy as he struggles to catch his breath between laughing, gasping, and shoveling shrimp into his mouth. "If that’s what you need." And honestly, it probably is. Ross seems like someone who needs dick more than anyone Maksim’s ever met. Anything to shut him the fuck up and knock him out for a while. After Ross gives his two cents about blind dating, the Alpha hums thoughtfully, then shrugs his strong, wide-set shoulders. "Welp. Maybe I’ll go through with it------ just to see what my people really think of me." His smirk is all good-natured mischief as he grabs another shrimp and drags it through sauce, thoroughly leaning into his caveman table manners. "Maybe I’ll even try your method," he adds with a wolfish grin. "Get slutty drunk and see who takes dick the best." He pauses, mock-serious, then tilts his glass toward Ross. "Wow, I think I learned something today. You really are good at your job." He knows he’s tempting fate; this conversation is practically begging for a glass to get hurled at his head. Worth it, though.

"i'm not a stick in the mud just because i don't want to put on that tacky see-through shirt my friend got me and go get sweaty on a dance floor." ross puffs up immediately, feeling his face flush, some startling combination of anger and embarrassment at being so thoroughly called out. it isn't as if he's desperately trying to impress this guy, of all people, but he doesn't want his legacy in anyone's mind to be that he's a boring loser who likes to sit at home and read or put together a puzzle on the weekends with a cozy cup of tea.

even if that's exactly what he is.

thrill and fun are great things, he enjoys them on occasion, but ross never wanted to be a dangerous guy, never wants to fuck himself over just to chase a few minutes of frivilous fun.

maybe he's boring. maybe he's the kind of nerdy guy that it's fun to hook up with for a while, because he's always thrilled and enthuiastic for his partners, but he's too boring to take out. maybe maksim has him wildly overthinking this.

all of those can be true.

hands curl around the glass that's been poured and left on the table, and he only hesitates for a split second of looking at the clear liquid before he lifts it and downs it like a madman. the burn is immediate and apparent. wild in his chest, blooming and warming his face like he's sitting next to a fire. "if you ask my friends, the answer is slutty." the glass is placed on the counter again, and he offers a little smirk, a hand coming up to lightly pull at his shirt, let a little airflow cool his still warming chest. "i'm a slutty drunk who'd be on his knees the moment someone told him to. so you're right, probably shouldn't overdo it. unless you wanna get naked in my kitchen again?" and he lets his eyebrows dance a little before the smile cracking his stoic expression crack through.

his body rests against the counter and he grabs a nacho to pop into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. he's decided not to comment on the 'nagging little wife' thing, if only because there's some fundamental part of him that knows that maksim is right. even if he doesn't want to admit it to the cocky fuck. instead, he shrugs his shoulders. "maybe. i'll have to start getting slutty drunk and figure out what dick fucks me the best, go from there." his eyes roll, but expression shifts thoughtfully when the man starts speaking again, humming softly, listening. then his head shakes. "nah. i don't really think blind dating works. i mean, it's awkward as hell, you're just showing up to a place, and there's someone waiting for you, and it really gives insight into what the people setting you up think about you, about who you should be with. and i think starting on a back foot like that is just begging to make it impossible for some kind of real connection. and that's what finding love is all about anyway, right? real connection."

[magicomens]

It's been quite a ride :') I'll see you soon with *our* goodbye!

love ya!

First >> Prev >> Next (epilogue)

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ the way of the househusband ❞

☾₊‧⁺...cw : househusband!fushiguro toji x fem!reader, you are megumi's mom, flirting, playful banter, just overall silly and cute domestic life

☾₊‧⁺...lunar's note : just some simple lil toji hcs of him as a househusband! i need some sweet stuff of him without a lot of sexual stuff in it bc let's be real, in a domestic setting he's probably just a big clingy and mildly annoying bear husband

f. toji is never going to complain about being the one staying home, watching over the little gremlin that is megumi. he's got his own ways of bringing in money with that friend of his, shiu, but he's more than content to being the one in the frilly pink apron, cooking for you and the lil' man.

toji didn’t ever expect to get married, especially after how he was treated as a zenin. he didn't know much about love or how to connect with people, let alone you. but when you handed his ass to him with no struggle and a pretty smile on your face at the gym, he knew he wanted you. two years later and a shit load of aggressive flirting, toji ends up with you as his spouse and he wouldn't have it any other way.

so imagine toji's surprise when he's genuinely excited when you tell him your pregnant. he's excited but scared. him? a father? there's no way in hell he has any idea what to do, his own father was nothing but a piece of shit...so what if he turns out like him? but the moment you pop that big headed little fucker out of you, toji can't help but grin, that excitement of being a father and creating memories with this tiny little thing erasing all his fears.

whenever you come home from work, toji's usually in the living room with little megumi, who forced him to take part in the exercise part of his favorite kids show. you don't know how megumi, your one year old baby who still talked in little babbles, forced his massive giant of a father who could kill a man with a look to do 'exercise for baby,' but you know better than to question it when you see the two touching their toes in front of the tv.

sometimes, he's in the kitchen, however, wearing that 'kiss the cook' apron you got for his birthday. toji always wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into a kiss, muttering a 'welcome home’ against your lips before poking your side and going back to what he was doing, proud grin on his face at the little screech he gets from you.

he's started to get better at dodging your hands when you go to poke him back, skirting around the table before going to scoop megumi up. “you would never do such an act in front of 'gumi, would you? what if he starts going around poking girls in their sides, hm? then i'll have to explain to his teacher that his mama can't keep 'er hands to herself.”

toji's got you there...so you back off, opting to press a kiss to babygumi’s little forehead, taking him from your husband’s arms when he makes grabby hands at you. you savor the betrayed look on toji's face, sticking your tongue out at him. he scoffs, rolling his eyes before going back to make sure dinner wasn’t burnt. he’ll get you back for stealing his son from him.

despite what people might think, there’s not really a 'dominant' person in the relationship. when together, the two of you give off some of the most intimidating vibes because of the sheer power the both of you carry. it's not even put off by little megumi, because if he notices his parents looking at you in disgust, he's gonna give you one that's even worse.

toji will never forget the day the three of you went to the grocery store, him in his usual black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, you in one of those same shirts and leggings with megumi in the kiddie seat in the shopping cart, eating from the little snack pack toji made for him. toji swears he walked away for three fucking seconds, and he came back to some...fucker getting ready to chat you up. it’s no surprise anyone that he gets pissed, ready to storm over there and make it clear you're taken.

however, it's clear you don't need him to step in, and damn, you look...really hot telling this dude off, angrily flashing your ring when he wouldn't back off. god, he wishes he could marry you again. toji doesn’t even know what you told the guy, and he's tempted to playfully ask megumi what happened, knowing his lil' man would try to respond in babbles and coos.

“he said you crawled out from the trash, toj, i can't stand for that! he could’ve done you some justice and said you crawled out of the deepest pits of hell, so I had to educate him on that. besides, he called you my boyfriend and I almost punched his face.”  “yeah? hm, i’m glad you didn’t, babe, we don’t want to get kicked out the store.”  “i don’t know, i think an imprint of my ring in his forehead would get the message across.”  “well, next time, how about we just kiss like we haven't seen each other in 15 years? not a fan of showing out to some dude, but i'd do it for you, sweetheart.”  “mmn!”  “right, lil' man? mama's so mean t' me, it's a good idea.”  “gumiiii, you're supposed to be on my side!”

occassionally, when you're at work, toji'll just talk to megumi, the little one nice and comfy on his chest.

one habit he'll never get out of is randomly calling you throughout the day when he's particularly bored and missing you. if you don't answer, toji will just leave you a message, usually about how badly he wants you to come home, groaning about how tired he is but he can't sleep without you in his arms, without you playing with his hair until he falls asleep. he's so in love with you, it's almost makes you dizzy.

you'll never forget the day you come home to toji and baby megumi in the front yard, crouched down around...something. parking in the driveway, you make your way over and see what they're looking at. it's...a kitten and a puppy, two tiny little things playfighting with each other. neither one of them say anything, just looking at the two creatures. you sigh, knowing exactly what this means.

"...give them appropriate names and make vet appointments. we aren't naming the dog 'hot dog' and we aren't naming the cat 'kitten'." "i told you it would work, lil' man."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

~

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"