#this didn’t turn out quite how I wanted but here we are

[bucketbueckers]

TEAM BUECKERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, kinda silly, kinda rushed

wc: 5.9k

synopsis: For you and Paige, the line between “friends” and “something more” wasn’t always this blurry. You weren’t quite sure how you got here, and if you were being completely honest, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to ever cross that line fully. It’s not until Paige ropes you into a Valentine’s Day couples contest you realize, with the two of you, that line never really existed at all.

notes: happy (late) valentines day 😋 yes i'm posting this after midnight on february 15 and yes i tried my best to get this out on the 14th when it was, you know, actually valentines day, but i fumbled majorly and im like 50% sorry. not proofread bc im sleepy. i lowkey don't know how to feel about this but i think the end makes up for it but i had an idea for this and it honestly derailed. i still don't know how taglists work (if you've asked and you're not on here, i'm sorry i will just throw up and die if i tag someone who doesn't actually want to be tagged in all of my works i hope u understand, pls be super specific my brain doesn't function like it used to) uhhh so yeah lmk what we think & happy vday 🫶

tags: @jnkbueckers

You and Paige weren’t always like this. There used to be a clear boundary in your friendship, a strictly platonic one where her embrace didn’t make your heart race and where her mischievous smile didn’t fill you with an exasperation that bordered on endearment. You didn’t always wear her jersey at games, didn’t always keep her favorite ice cream stocked in your apartment for nights she came over to binge watch the same show the both of you have probably seen a combined thousand times, didn’t always confuse where you begin or where she ends. There used to be a time where the two of you weren’t so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives. 

If anyone asked, you wouldn’t be able to identify when everything shifted – when your feelings transformed into what they are now. It just happened. The realization was as easy as waking up next to her on the couch, your legs tangled under a blanket far too small for the both of you, her arm tight around your waist to prevent you from falling off of the cushions entirely. It was as easy as the spare toothbrush you keep in your bathroom because she sleeps over so often, as easy as the drawer you have in her room because sometimes her dorm is just closer than your apartment.

So maybe it was kind of inevitable that ‘you and Paige’ turned into a ‘You & Paige.’ The two of you have a simple understanding. You keep her grounded, she encourages you to dream a little bigger. You talk, she listens. You round each other out in so many ways that you’re not the least bit surprised by how many people think that you and Paige are dating. If anything, they’re more surprised when you correct them, saying, “She’s just my best friend.”

You’re content to take your feelings for her to the grave. Maybe you would get over her eventually. She’s Paige Bueckers. She has a national championship and the upcoming draft to focus on and you have your senior thesis due at the end of the semester. The both of you have a lot on your plates – you care for her too much to complicate things for her, even if that means putting your own feelings on the back-burner.

You’re sitting on your couch, twelve pages into your paper, sifting through the twenty-eight (yes, twenty-eight) tabs you have open for your research when you hear your door knob jiggle. You don’t think too much of it, trying to stay focused on the task in front of you before you give up and start scrolling through social media again. However, your discipline doesn’t last for too long because the familiar rhythm of footsteps could only belong to one person. You look up to find Paige making her way into your living room like she owns the place (which she may as well, considering how often she’s around), depositing her duffle bag on the armchair. You greet her, returning to your work, but you feel the couch dip under her weight as she takes a seat next to you.

And then she sighs. Loudly. Dramatically, like she’s begging for your attention. Like you’re not busy. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, finding her staring straight at you, but she says nothing. A few beats pass. You add a new sentence to your paper, pausing to go back and find the reference page. She sighs again, more purpose and intent behind it this time, and your lips quirk slightly. Still, she says nothing, and the silence stretches on for so long that you’re sure she’s given up on trying to annoy you.

You write one more sentence before she leans over, sprawling out across your body, chin pressing into your keyboard. Your eye twitches as a long string of ‘M’s takes over your Word document. Paige sighs again, sounding forlorn, like a kicked puppy, and you know you’re not going to get anything done unless you entertain her.

“Okay,” you say, pulling your computer out from under her head, making sure to save your paper before you close the lid. “What’s wrong?”

Her face brightens almost immediately. “I am so glad you asked,” she states. “So, I’m walkin’ through campus today, right?”

“As one does.”

She hums. “And there’s a shit ton of tabling outside the student union. Frats, clubs, some vegan guy giving out pamphlets –”

“Paige,” you interrupt, raising a brow. “The point?”

“Oh.” She nods, collecting her thoughts. “So there was this club – forgot who they were, lowkey, there was a lot of letters – but on Friday, they’re hostin’ a Valentine’s Day contest and the first place prize is insane. I’m talking gift cards, cookie decorating kits, I think there was even a coupon in there for a fucking spa trip, or some shit, but you get the point, yeah? I wanted to sign us up for it.”

You had to admit – you were a little intrigued by it. Between your class work and Paige and her teammates giving you an aneurysm every week, you were in dire need of a spa trip and a little bit of relaxation. But more than anything else in the world, you knew Paige. You recognized that gleam in her expression – it was a feigned nonchalance, like she was being slick and trying to hide it. “What’s the catch?” you ask bluntly.

She laughs, the sound more surprised than amused, and her head shifts in your lap to gaze up at you. You try to ignore the way it sets off a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “What makes you think there’s a catch?” she asks.

“You’re Paige Bueckers,” you state. “There’s always a catch. Like I knew there was a catch when you asked me if I would hide fourteen blonde wigs in my apartment.”

“They were for CD!” she argues. You narrow your eyes at her and she huffs a little, amused, her lips quirking into a radiant smile. “A’ight. I guess you got a point.” You hum, because of course you do. Her expression turns serious as she sighs, for real this time. “It’s a couple’s contest,” she admits. “But hear me out, okay?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” you grumble, but your mind is racing.

“There’s a couple rounds,” she explains. “Like, the first round is trivia. How well do you know your partner, type shit. They score you, then they eliminate the people who don’t know shit about their partners. Second round is teamwork. They’ll give you a couple of puzzles and the most points will go to the teams who work well together and solve the puzzle quickly. More eliminations, then the partners are separated and they’re asked questions about each other – about what, I’on know. That should be the final round of eliminations and then the remaining couples are ranked based on points and prizes are given. Light work.”

“Light work?” you echo, a little self-deprecating. “Paige, we aren’t a couple.”

“Well, not exactly,” she concedes. “But we know each other pretty well. And can you really say no to the spa coupon?”

You bite your lip, sighing as you truly contemplate it. She’s got you there. The prize itself is worth the heartache that will come with pretending like you and Paige are actually dating. “You sure we can handle it?” you ask.

She pats your side, almost ignorant of the way it sends electricity coursing down your spine. “Duh,” she says like it’s obvious, her lips growing into a confident, assured smile. “We’re a dream team, baby. We got this.”

You could only hope so.

You nervously adjust your dress as you and Paige stand outside of the large room that the Valentine’s Day contest was taking place in. You spent the entire week leading up to Valentine’s Day an anxious wreck – part of you was worried that you would slip up and say something that you would come to regret, maybe say something a little too real. You had to keep reminding yourself that you and Paige were playing a part and once that gift basket was in your hands, then things could go back to normal. 

The two of you dedicated the better part of the week to perfecting your cover story. How you met, where you met, how long you’ve been together, all of the cheesy romance milestone moments that you were certain you’d be asked about. You mutually decided to not get too creative as maintaining the lie would become even more difficult, but you were confident in your ability to sell a story.

“You ready?” Paige asks you, drawing you from your racing thoughts as she squeezes your hand gently. You didn’t even realize her hand had slipped into yours. Now that you’re aware of it, it’s all you can think of. Her hand is strong, enveloping yours completely, and it brings you a calming peace you weren’t even aware that you’d been seeking out. Feeling yourself relax, you meet her eyes and nod, trying not to smile too hard when she beams at you.

As she leads the two of you inside the auditorium, you do your best to not stare too much at her. She’s dressed simply yet elegantly; donning a fitting suit that’s a light pink in color in honor of the occasion, the fluorescent lights overhead reflecting off of her stunning chains and the rings adorning her fingers. Her hair is tied back in her formal slick-back, the diamonds in her ears sparkling, and you really have to drag your eyes off of her. You’d already spent so much of the drive over staring at her and you’re sure she’d caught you a few times but was too nice to say anything to you.

The event had a decent turn out. You count fourteen couples at most, fifteen including you and Paige, although you couldn’t really tell if that was good or bad. Beating fourteen other real, actual, dedicated, in-love couples was totally manageable. So what if you and Paige weren’t actually together, but you were the most convincing pair of best friends the world had ever seen? She said you could do it, and damn it if you weren’t going to get that spa treatment.

The auditorium, however, was decorated to the nines. Lights and streamers were strewn about, various complementing shades of pinks and lilacs matching the Valentine’s Day themes. The tables were covered in pink tablecloths with gorgeous centerpieces. Honestly, you had to give props where they were due – this club has gone all out for this Valentine’s Day event, although you’re sure they probably splurged their semesterly budget on all of the amenities.

Before you or Paige have the chance to say anything to each other, you’re approached by a young woman wearing a pink polo shirt with the club's name and logo emblazoned on the chest. UConn, UMatter. You glance quickly at Paige, trying not to let the amusement show on your face as you remember her words – ‘There was a lot of letters.’ She was so full of shit. “Hi guys!” the young woman greets enthusiastically. “Thanks so much for signing up. What’s the last name?”

“Bueckers.”

The girl nods, scanning her clipboard before finding Paige’s name. “Okay, perfect. Let me show you guys to your table.” She leads you diligently through the room, craning her head over her shoulder to explain. “Madelyn’s gonna be around soon to walk you guys through the trivia section once we start, alright? She’ll let you guys know everything you need.”

You and Paige thank the club member and she offers you two one last smile as the two of you sit down next to each other. Paige’s hand finds your knee, almost subconsciously, and you try to find your dignity. It’s then that you notice the placecard in front of you – elegant script reading TEAM BUECKERS. With a quiet laugh, you nudge Paige’s elbow, drawing her attention to the paper. “‘Team Bueckers,’ huh?” you ask her teasingly. “You forget about me?”

“Never,” she swears. “I think they assign the names based on who registered. Trust me, I had a name lined up and everything. We were gonna be PB & Slay.”

You snort. “I’m Slay?”

“No,” she deadpans. “You’re PB. Keep up, please.”

“Of course,” you say obviously, like it’s definitely your fault. “I’ll do better next time.” She squeezes your knee under the table, smiling wryly at you.

Once everyone filters in, the girl who’d greeted you at the door makes her way to the front of the room, adjusting the microphone. She introduces herself as the president of the UConn, UMatter club, explaining some of their objectives and goals for the spring semester – you tune out a lot of it, which you’ll probably feel bad for later, but you weren’t here for the club recruitment. You were here for the pedicure that was calling your name this weekend. She makes it through the rest of her opening remarks, officially announcing the beginning of the first challenge: trivia. Several club members make their way to designated tables and a short, brunette girl takes a seat in front of you and Paige.

“Hey, guys,” she says, grinning widely and handing the both of you dry erase boards and a marker each. “I’m Madelyn. I’m gonna walk the two of you through today’s challenges. We’ll go back and forth – you answer one, then the other, so on and so forth. If your answers are the same, then you’ll get a point. Ready?” You and Paige hum affirmatively. “Alright. Question for Paige – when is your partner’s birthday?”

Paige huffs, her lips quirking into a smile as she uncaps her marker. “Light work,” she murmurs as she writes her answer down. “It’s a national holiday.” You roll your eyes as Madelyn laughs. Paige flips the dry erase board around, showcasing it to you and Madelyn, and you nod as Madelyn awards you both one point.

“Same question for you,” Madelyn says to you. “When is Paige’s birthday?”

You uncap your marker and write down your answer. October 20, 2001. “The world hasn’t known peace since,” you murmur under your breath, drawing laughter from Paige. You flip your board around and Paige nods smugly.

“Two for two,” Madelyn states. “Next question for Paige. What trait of yours is your partner’s favorite?”

You and Paige exchange a glance, her brow raising teasingly. She writes down her answer and you do the same, eventually flipping your boards over for the reveal. The two of you hadn’t exactly prepared well to answer this one, so you were hoping that you and Paige were on the same wavelength. You lean forward, glancing at her whiteboard, and smiling with relief when you see her answer: she likes my energy. Paige’s smile is smug, but there’s an underlying softness in her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me,” you huff, trying to explain. “You just — you have this way about you, like you’re kind, warm, you make people smile, and you always support them. You’re just genuinely good and, I don’t know, I really like that about you.”

Paige’s smile isn’t any less confident, although she seems a little bashful now, her cheeks tinging pink. “Three for three.” she says.

Madelyn tries to stifle her grin, but it’s clearly not working. “Next question is for you. When Paige is having a rough time, how do you help her relax?”

“With great difficulty,” you gripe, making Paige and Madelyn snort as you write your actual answer. By forcing her to chill the fuck out. You and Paige flip your boards, hers reading a much politer She makes me do nothing all day. Madelyn nods, awarding you the point, but you hardly pay her any mind as you meet Paige’s eyes. “You do too much,” you say, which makes her groan. “You overwork yourself and you microdose a burnout and I have to make you sit down and remember that you’re human.”

“You’re worse than me!” she points out.

You sniff. “This is about you,” you declare, “not me.” Paige rolls her eyes fondly, but she can’t help her laughter. 

“Next question,” Madelyn says, grinning. “Paige, what did you guys do on your first date?”

This was a question that the two of you had prepared for. You both decided that a little bit of the truth went a long way and the truth was that you and Paige had no shortage of quasi-dates that you could easily draw from. You tried not to think too hard about that as the two of you write down your answers. You turn your boards, revealing similar responses of ‘we went to her dorm and made dinner together after one of her games.’

You glance at Paige and she sighs. “Don’t start,” she pleads. 

“I’m actually a little invested now,” Madelyn chirps, which makes you grin and makes Paige bury her head in her hands. 

“All I’ll say is that Paige shouldn’t be in the kitchen without supervision but I really admire her, um, willingness to get creative,” you say kindly. Your best friend pinches your thigh under the table and you jerk back, laughing. Not wanting to embarrass her in front of a stranger, you leave it at that, although you smile at Paige like you’re the only two at the table. “I had a good time, though. She made it memorable.” She smiles back at you, something tender that has your heart constricting. 

The both of you knew the truth, though. Paige was not a good cook. She doesn’t make terrible food — dinner was delicious, but Paige is chaotic and an actual hazard. Watching her chop an onion hurt something deep inside you although she’d seemed so proud of herself. You didn’t have the heart to make fun of her. 

“Five for five,” Madelyn says, drawing your attention back to her. “Next question for you. Who confessed to who?”

You and Paige lock eyes again, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, and you write down her name. You turn your boards, Paige’s name written on the both of them and you smile to yourself. “She was pretty oblivious,” Paige says, referring to you, and your smile falls as your jaw hits the ground. “I dropped so many hints and she just didn’t pick up on them. I eventually got tired—”

“Desperate,” you cut in. 

“Tired,” she emphasizes, smirking at you, “so I planned out this huge romantic thing and at the end, she still didn’t understand so I told her straight up.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe you’re just not as slick as you think,” you tell her. 

“Nah,” Paige says. “I’m super romantical.”

“Sure,” you concede. 

Madelyn stifles her smile. “Alright. Two more questions for both of you. Paige, what is your partner’s pet peeve?”

“If you get this wrong,” you grumble, hearing Paige snicker as the two of you write down your answers. After you flip your boards, she grins proudly when your answers line up. 

“She hates not being taken seriously,” Paige recites. “She’s an English major. People always think it’s just easy or unimportant shit, like reading and writing papers, but she actually does a lot of interesting analysis and stuff that I never even considered. I’ll admit I was a little ignorant but she set me straight.”

“Wait, I didn’t know you thought that,” you say, honestly confused. 

She shrugs, a little bashful. “I talk a lot but I listen. Sometimes when you leave the room, I’ll read your paper just so I can ask better questions. You get all… glowy. And… I’on know. I like seeing you happy.”

You blink once at her, genuinely touched, and if you weren’t head over heels for Paige before then you definitely are now. She squeezes your knee again, her smile crooked yet tender. Damn it. You are hopeless. 

“That’s so sweet.” You’re a little shocked by Madelyn’s voice, but you clear your throat, refocusing. “Next one for you. What’s Paige’s least favorite season?”

“That’s easy,” you say, writing your answer down. Paige does the same. When you flip your boards, you glance at Paige’s, smiling wryly. “Paige hates spring. She has really bad allergies and all of the pollen is honestly a death sentence, so she’ll get all congested and sneezy and will spend a good two weeks bitching about it and how it makes her Jeep dirty.”

You glance at Paige, waiting for her to say something, but she just shrugs with a smug expression. “Last question for Paige,” Madelyn says. “What is something your partner does to show her love for you?”

Neither of you say anything, but Paige stares at you thoughtfully, another silent conversation passing between you. You don’t need to think about your answer as you write it down. On cue, you both flip your boards, Paige’s reading simply, She takes care of me. You can’t help the way your heart swells, a fond smile overtaking your face. “Before you, I wasn’t really the… you know, the receiver, I guess. Always in control, always expected to lead. You make me feel like I can just be me, which is really hard sometimes.” Paige laughs off the vulnerability, but you see right through it – the painful honesty.

“We’re equals,” you remind her, nudging her leg with your knee. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice soft as she gazes at you. “I’m glad that we do.”

You spot Madelyn out of the corner of your eye, which sobers you up quickly. She smiles. “You guys are so cute,” she gushes. “Final question for you and we’re done with this round. What is Paige’s love language?”

You feel Paige’s stare on you as you write, but you don’t glance back at her. You can hear the scribble of her marker, her capping it. When you’re finished, you finally look at her, taking in the soft expression on her face, and despite yourself, a smile grows on your face too. Together, you turn your boards, your answers being the exact same once more — quality time and physical touch. “Ten for ten, baby,” you croon, raising your hand for her to smack her palm against.

“Great job!” Madelyn says. “Let me just go submit these scores and I’ll be back to walk you guys through the puzzle round after eliminations. Sit tight.” She offers the two of you a quick grin before she’s walking off.

“Ten for ten,” Paige repeats, nudging you a little. “We’re like that?”

“I guess we’re actually kinda good at this friends thing,” you retort, although part of you wishes you were anything but.

Paige’s subsequent grin is far too knowing, like she has a trick up her sleeve. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh a little under your breath, adjusting your dress and leaning back in your chair to get comfortable. Before you know it, the scores are officially in. You and Paige had a perfect one, so you weren’t all too worried about getting eliminated in the first round, but five unlucky couples ended up leaving. The two of you watched from afar, trying not to stare too hard at the retreating couples, although they made it hard. One girl walked out crying, gesturing wildly as her partner trailed behind her, a desperate expression on her face. Another one was pure anger, slamming the door behind her. You didn’t think that this club contest would get people so riled up, but you considered that it was probably the realization that your partner truly didn’t know anything about you. You just lucked out with Paige – she understood you.

Madelyn returns quickly and cuts straight to the point. She instructs you and Paige to stand up, handing the both of you a towel, and adjusts your arms until you’re holding the towels perpendicular to each other, almost intertwined. “The goal here is to separate from each other, but it can be tricky because the towels will tangle you up. We’re looking to see how fast you can solve this puzzle and how well the two of you work together. Are you guys ready?” You and Paige nod and Madelyn grins again. “Alright. You can start.”

Instantly, the room around you two is sheer pandemonium. The couples around you are moving quickly, trying to untangle themselves, but it’s clear that the panic is settling in. You and Paige exchange a glance, laughing to each other softly. “Game plan?” she asks you.

“We need to get these like…not perpendicular,” you offer helpfully, and Paige nods, adjusting her arms. The angle change makes your towels bunch up and twist at their centers.

“Spin around,” she instructs. You do as so, the towels untwisting around the middle. You pause to analyze your situation, trying to plan out the moves in your head as Paige does the same.

“Okay, bring your towel over my head and let me step through it.” After that move, the both of you glance down, taking in your situation.

Paige hums. “The rest is easy,” she says. You nod in agreement, a silent understanding passing between the two of you and you move in tandem, twisting and shifting and stepping up until you’re both finally separating from each other in record time, having completed the puzzle. “We’re like that?” she asks you again, her expression smug and satisfied in a way that’s only comparable to when she’s on the court and her lips are curling after sinking a contested three point shot.

“Dream team,” you remind her, letting the victory wash over you, clapping your hand against hers, although she doesn’t immediately release you, squeezing your hand with a proud smile.

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen anyone solve it that quickly,” Madelyn admits. “Or that calmly.” As soon as she says it, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention. There’s one couple that are twisted so unnaturally that it looks like they’re playing Twister, but it seems that the girl gets tired of the shenanigans because she drops her towel and storms out with a frustrated yell. “Case in point.”

You laugh and Madelyn walks away again to tally the points and make their final eliminations. Once everything is set, five couples remain out of the initial fifteen. After the last challenge, two couples will be eliminated once more and the remaining three will be given prizes in order of points. You and Paige were determined to finish strong – if the first two challenges were any indicator, you two had this in the bag. True to Paige’s word, the couples were being split up for the last challenge, and she offers you a competitive smile as Madelyn whisks her away.

You pass the time on your phone although Paige isn’t gone for long. However, what does shock you is the sudden bashfulness that’s clear as day on her features, like the last challenge had made her confess something important or she had to be vulnerable. You can’t help the sudden worry that seizes your body, but Paige rests a hand on your hip, squeezing you once with a confident smile. It couldn’t be that bad.

Madelyn leads you into an adjacent room where the president of the club is sitting at a table waiting for you. She smiles when you enter, motioning to the seat across from her, and it feels strangely like entering the principal’s office in elementary school, like you’re in trouble for something. The club president doesn’t spare any time for pleasantries and instead cuts right to the chase, something that you’re grateful for.

“I’m not gonna take up anymore of your time, but after seeing you and your partner perform so well in this contest, I only have two questions for you,” she explains. “This is our second year running this contest and no one has scored as high as you two have, which is kind of insane because the third round scores haven’t been added yet.” You smile politely, honestly unsure of what to say, but the club president continues. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Going on three months,” you respond, thinking back to the timeline you and Paige had agreed on, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. You are a little surprised by how real your next words feel. “We were best friends for a really long time before then – we still are. Paige is just…that kind of person that makes you feel like you’ve spent forever with her, you know?”

The club president hums, agreeing. She pauses before glancing up at you, studying your features. “What’s something that you haven’t told your girlfriend, but you would want her to know?”

You hardly need the time to think about your answer, responding, “That I love her.” The club president’s expression softens, a smile growing on her face. “We haven’t, um, gotten there yet, but I mean it. I wanna make it perfect for her. She’s given so much to me in the short time we’ve been together and in the time we were friends. And she just…she means everything to me.”

She smiles. “I think you guys are perfect for each other.”

Despite yourself, you smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “I think so, too.”

After your solo questioning wraps up, you meet Paige at your table and you offer her a bashful grin, similar to the one she’d offered you when she returned. You don’t have the chance to say anything else to her as the final round of eliminations are being announced. You and Paige are spared, which doesn’t surprise you, and the two eliminated couples take their loss with dignity as they exit. Paige links her hand with yours – final three. In third place, Team Parker. In second…Team Hayes, which means that first place can only be –

“Team Bueckers.”

You and Paige relax immediately, high fiving each other in celebration. What you’re not fully expecting is the tight hug that Paige pulls you into, whispering a fond good job into your ear, although you can’t help the way you soften, sinking into her embrace. She leads you to the center of the room to collect your goodie basket. The various club members send you off with their congratulations, too, and you pretend to not notice the slick wink that Madelyn shoots you as you and Paige walk out.

The night air is cool, making you shiver slightly, and Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s sliding off her blazer and settling it over your shoulders. You smile gently at her. “You won’t be cold?” you murmur.

“Nah,” she promises, nudging you. “I can handle it. You, though? I’on know.”

“That’s no way to treat someone who just won you these spa coupons,” you say, reaching into the gift basket to wave said coupons in the air. “C’mon, I clutched up, you can’t lie. And to think you wouldn’t have even had a partner for this if you didn’t rope me into it. I think we played our parts pretty well.”

Paige laughs gently, a tinkling sound that carries over the drag of the wind. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she asks, but there’s no true offense behind her words.

You stare at her in confusion. “Get what?” you respond.

“Do you remember that question Madelyn asked you earlier?” Paige says, her steps slowing, tilting her head down to look at you. The street lights reflect off of her face so beautifully, the blue of her eyes illuminated by the soft light. You can’t help the way your heart constricts at the sight. “‘Who confessed to who?’” You hum, urging her to go on. “You remember what I said? That you were oblivious and I dropped a lot of hints you didn’t pick up on?”

The gears in your brain spin for a few revolutions before everything clicks into place. “Oh my God,” you breathe out. “Are you–”

“Confessing?” she says, her lips quirking into a smile. “Yeah.”

“You dropped hints before?”

“So many,” she confirms.

“Oh my God,” you say again. You stop in your tracks, prompting her to do the same. The expression on her face is endlessly amused. “You planned a huge romantic thing – this?”

She shrugs. “The contest was the club’s shit, but yeah. I planned on asking you to come with me to this. I didn’t actually care about the prize, but the coupons are pretty sweet, right?”

You shake your head, ignoring her rambling. “You planned a huge romantic thing, but I still didn’t get it at the end, so you told me straight up,” you finish, partly in disbelief. “You think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” you accuse, which just makes her break out into laughter. “You literally sat next to me and told me exactly how you were going to ask me out and I didn’t know? And not only did you do that, but you were right about it?”

“I know you,” Paige says a little smugly. “And I told you that I could be romantical.”

“You are such a pain in my ass,” you whisper, but her arm is slinking around your waist, pulling you into her body as she grins insufferably, and you let yourself be pulled, your hands resting on her chest. “You are literally so annoying.”

Her nose brushes yours as she inches a little closer. “You know what they asked me in the final round?” she says, her voice loud enough for only you to hear. You nod. “They said, ‘What’s something you haven’t told your partner, but you’d like to?’”

“Funny,” you say. “They asked me the same thing.”

She smiles at you. “I told them I’d tell you that I love you,” she confesses.

Your cheeks burn as you register her words. “Funny,” you say again. “I told them the same thing.”

Her expression shifts, something like relief flashing in her eyes, something tender in her gaze. “Did you?”

“Well, I told them that’s what I would tell my girlfriend,” you trail off intentionally. “Seeing as I don’t currently have one of those…”

“Don’t play,” Paige murmurs, squeezing your hip gently, drawing a laugh from you. “Be mine?”

“You gonna share those coupons?”

Her eyes are bright when she responds. “I’on even care about them. Just want you.”

“You’ve got me.”

That promise is all she needs. She smiles at you, happiness in her features, and she doesn’t waste any time before she’s leaning in fully, her lips finding yours. You’re eagerly responding, melting into her as her arm tightens around your waist. You loop yours around her neck, standing on the tips of the toes for better leverage. Before you know it, her grin grows too wide and the two of you are laughing against each other’s lips, the sound of your love and giddiness the perfect way to end a perfect night. If you had Paige Bueckers and her annoyingly charming antics to look forward to, then one thing is for certain – you couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for Valentine’s Day next year.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 14

ch 15 is done so y'all can have ch 14, these are getting longer and longer- If I somehow end up passing 4k words I'll have to break these into pt1 and pt2 🥲

Also- y'all can not rip Jason's finger tattoos saying "jailbird" from me, ever.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 14 >>next(TBC)

Your hands were shaking as Slade led you to one of the many bathrooms in the building, but despite everything, you were proud of yourself. You didn’t cry, that was good enough in your book. “You were fast with that throw. Not many get a hit on the man, as clumsy as he fakes being.” His voice only seemed to make you angrier.

You took a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hasn’t done anything to you, yet at least. You’re not angry at him- is what you had to repeat to yourself before answering. “I wish it was a knife.” Your face twitched at that. “That- was a very emotionally fueled answer- please don’t hold it against me.” Willson was more amused by the answer than scared or worried.

“You won’t be the first, and you won’t be the last.” The man took his handkerchief and dampened it, leaning against the marble sink as he handed it to you, and you thanked him while taking it. “I’ll hold you up to paying for the cleanup, by the way. I love this suit. Now- why did you really want to talk?”

“Straight to the point I see.” At his smile, you just shrug. “Never was one for pull and push games.” Perhaps it was your hormones, or just how much you’ve repressed your emotions for other human beings due to hurt, but his laugh made your cheeks flush. You were putting a pin on that feeling, for now just dismissing it as anger at the male species.

“I just want to talk, get to know you better.” He went to the modern toilet and took out its wall panel, pulling out a briefcase. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself. Among terrible people.” Slade opens the briefcase once it is on the marble top, revealing his gear and a clean pair of clothes. “So, you want to assassinate me?”

“Assassination is for world leaders, my dear.” The shit-eating grin definitely made you think whatever you were feeling was anger. “But you’re not far off. We have similar enemies.” You took the clean shirt he handed to you, took the wet wipes straight from the case, and went straight for the room divider, Slade turning his back to you. “So- what, you want me to help you and when push comes to shove, you’ll help me?” He could hear the doubt, the sarcasm, and the distrust. But he just smiled. “Yes.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Luthor just kept on looking at you for a few seconds as you lay face down on his emperor-sized bed. “Is that his shirt?” He got a muffled yes in response. “He hid a briefcase in your wall and gave me the spare, said he’ll come back with the clean suit… I so think he wanted to kill you or steal something you have here.” Lex just hummed at that, tapping his foot. “And?” You groaned. “Where do I even begin?”

“Well, you could start from the beginning?” Lex said while getting up and grabbing a set of pajamas and tossing them on your back. You sigh and place your head on your hand, turning your body sideways so you can look at him. “I have parental issues and a part of me finds his stupid eye-patch so hot.” You cackled maniacally as Luthor’s face soured. “Ok. How about we skip forward a bit?” He almost begged.

“Alright- wait-…” You take a closer look at the pajamas. “These are my size.” Your eyes meet his as he confirms with no shame on his mug. “Are you not going to ask why?” Sighing you just get up and move towards his bathroom. “You either want a kid or a wife and I’m not mentally sound enough right now for either one. And I’m sleeping with mom- I so do not believe you didn’t put cameras in my room, you weirdo.”

“I’m a paranoid billionaire genius. I have cameras in every room.” It was his turn to laugh like a maniac as he heard you call him a weirdo again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

With everyone out of the manor, it was finally time for Alfred to clean the whole bloody place. These moments were rare, and while Master Bruce insisted on him taking a break, he wasn’t a man to stay in one place for long without work.

He began from the ground up, the cave, the yard. The ground floor and the first level came and went, on the second level he may have gotten distracted by the new books Bruce got for Jason, and by the time the man of the house got back, Alfred was halfway done with the third floor.

Opening yet another door, his eyes immediately critiqued the dust, barely processing the objects before beginning to clean, starting with a little framed photo and the nightstand. It took him two looks before he registered what the picture depicted- a little girl at her kindergarten graduation event. He doesn’t remember Miss Cassandra this young, Master Bruce must have-

No… Cassandra never went to kindergarten. Alfred drops the cloth he was wiping off the dust with, head snapping around the room- Paintings, so many paintings,  drawing supplies. Medals, diplomas- the more of them he wiped with his gloved hand the more the man trembled, heart beating against his ribcage, the same way it did on the active battlefield- where were you?

A child- a whole child- no. He saw you- yes. In the garden, yelling at Bruce- that-… that was six years ago. Six years ago. Six bloody years ago. Somewhere in his panicked frenzy, a hopeful part of him just thought that maybe you changed rooms, yes, that’s why he began screaming your name like a madman, bursting through the rooms he hadn’t yet opened, screaming as he went down the staircase, rechecking rooms, scaring the kids that were in the manor.

Damian frowned at Cassandra and Tim. “Has Pennyworth lost it?” The girl didn’t even pay him any mind as she simply followed the elder. “No, he-… Where is she?” Tim tried to respond but the distraction got to him- he can’t remember the last time he saw you. Damian had no other choice but to follow as well.

Even though the old man used the stairs he was the first to enter the batcave, the kids following in the elevator. “-she’s missing-“ was what they caught, seeing the picture frame Alfred ran around with now clenched in Bruce’s hands.

“No.” Cassandra said softly, confusion clear on her face. “In London.” Alfred looked at the man as he tried to hide his fury. “You sent the young miss to London without even telling me?” Bruce immediately said a firm no, turning to Cassandra to ask how she even knew of that. “Is anyone going to inform me about who we are talking about?!”

Damian had enough, he didn’t like still being left in the dark about things that seemed this important. Tim repeated your name like it was obvious, but Alfred felt the world crash on his head. “Yes. So you all keep on saying, is that code for something?” The old man needed to sit down. They’ve never talked about her. They’ve never told him about her.

Tim was too tired to realize what Alfred did. He just called the boy rude, how could he not remember his other big sis. And it was the wrong thing to do. “I have another sister, and you didn’t tell me? Nobody did?!” The youngest boy snapped at his father before turning to look at everyone else.

Bruce- he was taking hit after hit tonight. He couldn’t come up with an argument to Slade, and he sure as hell couldn’t defend himself against Damian. The last time he remembered seeing you was when he ruined your garden. He slumped down in his chair, clutching the picture of your sad chubby face and the pitying look of the teacher, unable to take his eyes from it.

Where was he? He… He can’t defend himself. How could he? He didn’t even realize you were missing. How much has he missed? How many events and achievements has he ignored or brushed off? Did you leave that night, was that the last drop? He ignored his arguing kids, ignored how devastated Alfred looked… Jason said he was missing a bird. Bruce closes the open files on The Sorceress. “Tim, inform Dick and the others. Oracle. Call Red Hood. Now.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Lois sighed and turned to face her husband who was fully awake. “Ok, come on, confess.” Clark didn’t even flinch, not until she shook his shoulder. He side-eyed her before turning to also face her, sure that Jon was deeply asleep. “What I’m about to tell you should stay just between us.”

“The Sorceress is adopted, her dad is Bruce.” Lois raised a brow but before she could ask for more Clark continued. “I heard her brother and Lex inform the Immortal about it. The boy mentioned that, and I quote, the bastard didn’t pay attention to her for years and now has the gall to show up and act like he doesn’t know her. Lex was sure of the fact that Bruce didn’t even know that she had run away, to begin with, let alone how the kid he barely spent time with looked like anymore”

Lois took a while to soak in the information. “That’s…” She lies back on her back, staring at the ceiling like her husband once was. “If it’s true- it’s a new low for him. I'll look into it.” She looks at Clark. “Don’t let Jon hear that, he’ll-“

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“-and that’s what my dad said.” Jon, who was still in his pajamas, huffing from how fast he flew and talked, told Damian once they were in the security of the youngest Wayne’s room. The other boy just nodded. “Thank you for informing me, Jon. Make sure you do not repeat this to anyone else.”

“You should go back before your parents realize you’re missing.” Damian opened the window for the other teen. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not okay-“ Damian shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine, I’ll take care of this and give the information to someone who will be able to confirm what Superman heard."

The young super took a while before leaving, but the fear of his parents finding him gone was bigger. Damian on the other hand was already penning a letter. If the family kept such important information from him, he could too.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your day was- tiring. You may have overdone it a bit, studying for finals, the anxiety of giving your artwork in for the diploma, helping with clean up, training, helping Titan clean spaces for more housing- by the time you were done you were exhausted.

When the explosion went off, you didn’t even flinch, the text message from Mark saying “dnt wor abt it” was good enough for you. So, you just continued buying your little snacks and energy drinks for tomorrow and went on your way, floating as you simply couldn’t be bothered with walking.

If you were, perhaps, not as tired as you were, you would have been a little bit more concerned about the swarm of reporters or paparazzi, you couldn’t even try to figure it out. “Madame Sorceress! What is your relationship to Mr. Wayne?” and “Hey! Hey, over here! How do you know Bruce Wayne?!” and a lot of similar questions you couldn’t be bothered to answer. “Sorceress! Why do you have beef with Mr. Wayne?”

Now that stopped your movement. You slowly turned towards the person who asked, squinting at the redhead. “You want that in chronological or alphabetical order?” That seemed to trigger more questions and yelling, but your attention was on your ringing phone. “Sorry folk, I have to take this.” Sluggishly, you flew higher than they could be able to pick up with any listening device and answered. “Sup’ Red-“

Your brows furrowed. “Now they found out?... How much?” Jason just snorted. “B tried to interrogate me and when that didn’t work out, Alfred tried to tug at my emotions. Right under their nose and they’re still not seeing it.” You snort. “You’re creating yourself trouble. Just tell them, not like they can do anything now.” Jason knew, but this- the phone number, the texting, and silly pics, was something the other bats didn’t have access to. It was something only he had, that he didn't have to share with the others. He wants it to stay that way. “Nah, let them stew in it.” Jason snickered. “Whatever, Jailbird. Good night.” You roll your eyes, laughing when he yells that you weren’t supposed to know that.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger

A tiny little micro sneak peak of chapter 15 because I feel kind:

Jason was having a terrible week, starting with Ms. “I wouldn’t have been as forgiving if you didn’t die and came back kinder to me” Wayne- well- Grayson? He doesn’t know anymore- he’s close enough to just forging papers that say you’re his biological little sister just to fuck with Bruce.

[cavillscurls]

Thinking about olderboyfriend!joel and reader celebrating all the holidays. Their first Valentine’s Day, their first thanksgiving together, their first Christmas together

this ask is so old, but i thought i’d answer given the nature of today 🥹💌… i don’t have a lot, but here’s some thoughts.

older!boyfriend joel masterlist

you met in the summer, a long ways before that holiday which always seemed to carry a heavier weight than it needed to. this connotation of perfection that hadn’t existed even in the best of your relationships.

but this one is the best. not one of, but the best. and you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that, at times, it does feel perfect.

and you feel good. you feel certain. you have for a while now, but with the impending holiday that always felt more like dread than love, there’s a surge of reassurance when that usual doom never settles in.

you both agreed no gifts. funny enough, it was joel who put up a fight on this front. you could see him practically seething in his shoes, a crinkle in his brow and a pout on his lips as he bargained just one, you don’t gotta get nothin’, and there’s no guilt—just one.

but you shook your head and stood your ground; you would much rather spend the occasion splurging on dinner and drinks, an experience to share between the two of you.

he relented. even agreed to wear a suit—all black, and fuck, if that didn’t make you want to jump his bones on first sight—gelled back his curls, and wore that expensive cologne he saves for special occasions.

he shows up that night thirty-minutes before your reservation, and you’re popping a hand on your hip as soon as you open the door and find him standing there with a bouquet. a dozen red roses.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you huff.

he shrugs. “this ain’t a gift. it’s flowers,” he says, trying to play coy, but you can tell he’s rather proud of himself.

how are you supposed to argue with that?

you accept them, albeit a bit reluctantly, and bring them to your nose with a generous sniff. he’s eyeing you, all of you, the deep crimson dress you’ve chosen leaving little to the imagination. just the reaction you were hoping for.

“thank you,” you tell him, and he reaches out to place a hand at the small of your back, pulling you into his chest so he can lean down and press his lips to your ear.

“you’re welcome, baby,” he rasps, sending a shiver through you, and places a kiss on the side of your head.

dinner is tasty and decadent, made even finer by the company you keep. you split a bottle of red, and make room for dessert—freshly dipped chocolate-covered strawberries. he makes a show of leaning across the table to feed you the first bite, and you laugh so hard, you snort, the steady thrum of wine through your veins keeping you both buzzed and gleeful.

it’s starting to snow when you call a car from the restaurant. he offers an extension to the evening—catch a late showing of the rom-coms you know he can’t stand, but he’d tolerate (and has tolerated) for you. but the air is cold, and he’s so warm, and you’re feeling greedy. you want him all to yourself. that’s all you’ve ever really wanted from this, anyway. him.

you’re in his bed later that night, in his clothes, after he’s given you his real gift—satiating your needs, the desires he understands so well. you’re on your tummy, and he’s on his side, peacefully watching the path of his fingers that trace gentle shapes up and down your spine. you feel your eyelids grow heavy, shutting every few moments.

“hey,” he whispers at one point, voice low with fatigue.

“hm?” you murmur, raising your brows but not quite mustering the energy to look at him.

“i love you.” and it’s not the first time he’s said it, but it’s no less impactful. an iron rod to your chest, beaming and glowing from the inside out. “you know that, right?”

slowly, you open your eyes, and what you find turns the heat inside your belly up ten fold. he isn’t looking for reassurance or scoping out doubt. those are long gone with the passage of time. he just wants you to know—really know. hear him, and accept it for all it’s worth.

everything, really.

“i know it,” you whisper back, and a sleepy little grin erupts on his cheeks. you can’t help yourself. you lean forward and up, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, and muttering against them: “i love you.”

he pulls you onto his chest, then. letting you smother him with your weight and wrapping his arms tightly around you. good. steady. real. perfect.

maybe valentine’s day isn’t so bad after all.

[4linos]

haircut drama

lee minho x gn!reader

synopsis: minho gets overly dramatic about you not noticing his haircut, drawing out the teasing until you guess right.

wc: 823

(based on his silly bbl messages lol)

The afternoon was peaceful, yet something seemed odd. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone, totally immersed in whatever was on the screen. Minho sat next to you, but his typically calm manner had shifted. He kept looking across at you, shifting in his seat, and sighing lightly; his small dramatic movements were beginning to add up.

You looked up and saw him looking at you before he hurriedly turned his head. His lips were pursed, and he kept looking away, as if he were trying to hide something. But it wasn't like him to be so distant. You lifted an eyebrow, sensing something was off.

“Minho?” you asked, slightly distracted, still not sure why he was acting so… off. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, only huffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. His foot tapped a little too fast on the floor, his gaze never meeting yours. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though there was a playfulness in his tone you couldn’t quite place.

You glanced at him, a little puzzled now. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine. You’re acting weird.”

Minho huffed again, louder this time, as if he was putting on a show. “I’m not acting weird,” he said, looking at the ceiling as though it held the answers to the universe. “It’s just… it’s whatever.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what was really going on. Minho was being unusually cryptic, and it was driving you a little crazy. He’d been fidgeting this entire time, making it obvious that something was bugging him.

You set your phone down and turned your full attention to him. “Okay, now you really have to tell me what’s going on, because something’s not right.”

He turned his head toward you, a tiny grin forming at the corner of his mouth, but he refused to say anything. You studied him closely. His outfit was the same as always; there was nothing new there. He wasn't upset about anything in particular, but he was acting weirdly distant. It was as if he was expecting something from you.

Finally, he broke the silence. "It's just...I can't believe you didn't notice," he continued, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. "You've been sitting right here the whole time, and you didn't even see it."

“See what?” you asked, still unsure of what he was talking about, your mind racing through possibilities. “What am I missing?”

Minho sighed dramatically, shifting again, this time looking at his reflection in the window. “Nothing. Never mind,” he said, clearly trying to sound like he wasn’t affected, but you could tell he was enjoying this a little too much.

You were about to give up when it hit you like a bolt of lightning.

His hair!

Minho's hair is usually messy, but it was nicely done today, shorter and more professional than usual.

“Oh!” you said, finally getting it. “Did you get a haircut?!”

Minho froze, his lips curling into a mischievous grin, but his eyes remained playful and a little teasing. “Took you long enough,” he said, still pouting like he was holding onto his frustration for dramatic effect. “I was starting to think you were really going to ignore it.”

You blinked, realizing how obvious it had been all along. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t notice right away!” You immediately reached over to ruffle his hair, grinning. “But it looks good, babe! You look great.”

His face softened just a little, but his playful teasing didn’t fade. “It’s fine. I mean, I know I look good, but I wanted you to notice. I thought we were closer than that,” he said, feigning an exaggerated look of hurt.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible! I was just distracted!”

Minho leaned back against the couch, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Mmhmm, distracted,” he repeated, clearly enjoying how much he was messing with you. “I’m still waiting for a good enough apology.”

You leaned in, narrowing your eyes with a grin. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner, but it looks really good. You’re more handsome than usual,” you teased, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear.

Minho pretended to think about it, then shrugged, his grin growing wider. “Okay, fine. I’ll let it slide this time. But next time? You better notice immediately.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but you knew he was just teasing. You gave his hair another playful ruffle. “I swear, next time I won’t even blink without noticing. You’ve got me trained now.”

“Better,” he said, his tone light as he relaxed again. But then he added with a smirk, “But seriously, it looks good, right? I mean, you weren’t totally wrong for not noticing immediately…”

You shook your head, laughing at how he kept pushing it. “You’re ridiculous, Minho.” But deep down, you knew how much he secretly enjoyed the attention, even if he played it off.

//

masterlist.

[s4kura-tr3]

Happy Valentine’s Day!

(A little angst in Sugurus part..)

Gojo - The city was dusted with snow, the streets lined with pink and red decorations that shimmered beneath the streetlights. Valentine’s Day in Tokyo was always a little extra — heart-shaped balloons tied to storefronts, couples walking hand in hand, and cafes boasting limited-edition desserts.

You weren’t sure why you expected today to feel like just another Wednesday. Not with Gojo Satoru as your boyfriend.

Your phone buzzed right as you stepped into your apartment.

Satoru: Come to the rooftop. Now. No questions.

You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t fight the small smile that tugged at your lips. With Gojo, surprises were inevitable. You grabbed your coat and made your way up the stairs, pushing open the door to the rooftop.

The sight took your breath away.

Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a soft golden glow over a small table set with desserts and a thermos of what you assumed was hot chocolate. A thick blanket was spread out beside the table, lined with cushions. The city skyline glittered in the distance like scattered diamonds.

And there, standing with his back to you, was Satoru. He turned when he heard you step forward, that trademark grin appearing as soon as his eyes met yours. His blindfold was gone tonight, leaving his vibrant blue eyes on full display.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he said, spreading his arms dramatically. “Aren’t I the most romantic boyfriend ever?”

You chuckled and walked over to him. “I mean…you did set the bar high last year with the impromptu trip to Okinawa.”

“True,” he mused. “But this year, I thought — why travel when we can just…stay cozy here?”

He pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sank into him, warmth spreading through you despite the chilly February air.

“You really did all this?” you asked, glancing around the rooftop setup.

“Of course! Who else would go this over-the-top for you?” His voice was teasing, but there was a softness in his eyes that gave him away. “I wanted tonight to be about us. No curses, no missions, no interruptions.”

Your heart gave a little flutter. Gojo wasn’t always the best with words when it came to feelings — but when he showed it, it hit like a freight train.

“Come on,” he said, tugging you toward the blanket. “I brought your favorite pastries from that place you love.”

“You went all the way across town for those?”

“For you? Always.”

You sat together, sharing bites of pastries and sipping hot chocolate as the night unfolded. Gojo kept making ridiculous jokes, most of which made you groan but left you laughing anyway. His hand never left yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly.

As the night wore on, he grew quieter. You turned to find him gazing at you with an expression you didn’t see often — vulnerable, unguarded.

“Hey,” you whispered. “What’s that look for?”

He hesitated, then gave you a crooked smile. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Your chest tightened. You squeezed his hand. “Me too, Satoru.”

Geto - The February air was crisp, the scent of snow lingering despite the clear sky. Tokyo streets were alive with Valentine’s Day cheer — couples strolling beneath pink banners, flower shops bustling with last-minute customers, and cafés offering heart-shaped treats in every window.

But the warmth of the city didn’t quite reach you tonight.

You sat by the window of your apartment, absently tracing patterns on the frosty glass. Your phone sat on the table beside you, the screen dark except for the faint reflection of your own face.

You shouldn’t have expected a message.

Not today. Not from him.

The familiar ache stirred in your chest. It was easier most days, the distance between you and Suguru Geto a wound you learned to live with. But today? When the world seemed to revolve around love and companionship? It hurt.

You squeezed your eyes shut and leaned your forehead against the window.

Stop waiting, you told yourself. He’s not coming back.

But then your phone buzzed. Once. Twice.

Your heart lurched as you snatched it up.

Unknown Number: Look outside.

Your breath caught. The number wasn’t saved, but you knew who it was. Even after all this time, you’d never forgotten the pattern of his messages — the deliberate wording, the weight behind so few words.

You stood slowly, heart racing as you stepped to the window. Outside, beneath the streetlamp across from your building, stood a figure dressed in black. His long, dark hair was half-pulled back, the rest cascading over his shoulders. Even from here, you could feel the weight of his gaze.

Suguru Geto.

Your knees went weak, and your breath hitched.

You shouldn’t go to him. You knew better. But your body moved on instinct — grabbing your coat and rushing out the door, heart beating louder than the sound of your footsteps down the stairs.

The cold night air hit your face as you pushed through the entrance and crossed the street. He didn’t move until you were standing in front of him.

“You’re really here,” you whispered.

“I shouldn’t be,” he said softly. His voice was deeper than you remembered, but it still held that same calm, steady rhythm. “But…I couldn’t stay away today.”

His eyes softened as they met yours, the faintest crack in the mask he wore now. You searched his face, noting the faint scars, the exhaustion in his features. He looked older. Colder. But beneath that? The man you once loved was still there.

“Why now?” you asked, voice trembling.

He hesitated. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day. And no matter how far I go…you’re still the one I think of today.”

Tears burned in your eyes, and you clenched your jaw to hold them back. “Suguru…you left. You chose—”

“I know.” His expression tightened with guilt. “And I still believe in what I chose. But that doesn’t mean I stopped—” He cut himself off, exhaling shakily. “It doesn’t mean I stopped missing you.”

The cold wind swirled between you.

You should walk away. You should tell him that missing you wasn’t enough to erase everything he’d done.

But your heart betrayed you.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. For a moment, he stood still, as though unsure if he was allowed this. Then his arms came around you, holding you tightly, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered against his chest.

“I know,” he murmured, voice cracking.

“And I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know that too.”

Neither of you moved. The world faded — the lights, the decorations, the laughter from passing couples. For one night, time stood still.

“Just tonight?” you asked.

His hand cradled the back of your head. “Just tonight.”

Valentine’s Day was supposed to be sweet, but with Suguru, it was always bittersweet.

Because tomorrow, he’d be gone again.

And you’d be left waiting for a ghost.

Nanami - February 14th had always felt like a manufactured holiday to Nanami Kento — an excuse for companies to push chocolates, flowers, and overpriced dinners. He wasn’t a cynic about love; he simply didn’t believe in grand gestures dictated by a calendar, he believed it should be an everyday thing.

But then he met you.

And now he found himself standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, meticulously arranging a plate of homemade chocolate-covered strawberries. Each one was dipped perfectly — because, of course, Nanami wouldn’t settle for uneven coatings — and sprinkled with just the right amount of crushed hazelnuts.

He glanced at the clock. 6:58 p.m. You’d be home any minute.

The apartment was quiet except for the faint jazz music playing from the speaker. A bottle of wine was already breathing on the counter, and dinner was simmering on the stove. Simple. Elegant. Thoughtful. Just like he knew you preferred.

The lock clicked, and he turned just as the door opened.

“Smells amazing in here,” you called as you stepped inside, cheeks pink from the cold. When your eyes landed on him — standing there in his crisp white shirt, apron still tied around his waist — your smile softened. “Did you…cook?”

“Of course,” he said, walking over to help you with your coat. His hands brushed against yours, warm and grounding. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“You hate Valentine’s Day.”

“I dislike the commercial aspect,” he corrected. “I never said I dislike making you happy.”

Your heart melted a little. Nanami wasn’t a man of grand speeches or showy declarations. His love lived in the details — the way he remembered how you liked your tea, the gentle hand on your back when you crossed the street, the soft “be careful” every time you left for work.

You stepped up on your toes and kissed him. His hands found your waist instinctively, pulling you closer. His lips, warm and deliberate, moved against yours with that same steady devotion he brought to everything he did.

When you pulled back, your heart was racing. “So…what’s for dinner, Mr. Romance?”

He arched a brow. “Homemade pasta with a cream sauce and seared salmon.”

Your mouth watered. “You made homemade pasta?”

Nanami gave a modest shrug. “It’s not difficult with the right tools.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his and letting him lead you to the dining table, where candles flickered gently.

The meal was perfect, of course. Nanami didn’t know how to do anything halfway. As you finished the last bites, you leaned back in your chair with a content sigh.

“You really went all out,” you said softly.

Nanami reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb traced absent circles on your skin. “I know I don’t always say it the way others might…but I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

Your throat tightened. “I do know.”

“I don’t need Valentine’s Day to remind me to appreciate you,” he continued, voice low and sure. “But I’ll use any excuse to make you smile like this.”

Tears prickled in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, heart full.

“Well,” you said, blinking them away with a teasing grin, “if this is what happens when you don’t care about Valentine’s Day…maybe I’ll have to start pushing for more holidays.”

Nanami chuckled — a soft, genuine sound that always made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

And when he kissed you again, slow and deliberate, with Nanami, every day felt like Valentine’s Day.

Toji - Valentine’s Day was just another day to Toji Fushiguro. Overpriced chocolates, corny decorations, couples trying too hard — none of it made sense to him. Love? Romance? He’d seen how easily both could crack and fall apart.

But then came you. And somehow, against all odds, you stuck around.

Which was probably why you were sitting on the couch that night, wearing your favorite hoodie, scrolling through your phone, while the clock ticked past 10 p.m. Your gaze flicked to the door every few minutes, even if you tried to pretend otherwise.

You weren’t one to make a big deal out of holidays, but…you’d hoped, just a little, that Toji might remember.

When the lock clicked and the door opened, you sat up. He stepped in with his usual swagger — black coat slung over his shoulders, hair damp from the light snowfall outside. His eyes landed on you immediately.

“Waitin’ for me?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

“No,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “Just…watching TV.”

He hummed in response and kicked off his shoes. “That so?”

You turned back to the screen, determined not to let disappointment show. But then Toji’s hand appeared in your line of vision, holding a small, slightly crumpled brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” you asked, taking it cautiously.

“Open it.”

Inside the bag was a simple plastic container, the kind convenience stores use for pastries. Through the clear lid, you saw a strawberry shortcake — two layers of sponge cake with cream and fresh strawberries sandwiched in between. It was slightly smushed on one side, like he’d carried it under his arm for a while.

Your chest tightened. “You…got me cake?”

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “Figured you’d like it.”

You tried to bite back the grin tugging at your lips. “From that bakery I told you about?”

“Tch. What do I look like, a guy who stands in line for fancy desserts?” He flopped onto the couch beside you, throwing an arm over the backrest. “Nah, just grabbed it on the way here.”

But you noticed the faint red sticker on the container — the bakery logo you’d gushed about weeks ago. The one that was always packed.

You turned toward him, warmth blooming in your chest. “Toji…did you actually go out of your way to get me a Valentine’s Day cake?”

He groaned. “Don’t make it weird, sweetheart.”

“Too late.” You bit your lip, eyes glimmering. “This is…really sweet.”

He grunted, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat the damn cake.”

You didn’t push him further. Instead, you stood, grabbed two forks, and plopped back down beside him. You handed him one and opened the container.

The first bite was soft, sweet, and just a little crooked from the journey here. “Mmm,” you said, closing your eyes. “Perfect.”

Toji watched you, his fork twirling idly between his fingers. “Good?”

“Very.” You held out a forkful for him. He leaned forward, taking it without hesitation. His lips closed around the fork, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he chewed.

“Eh,” he said with a shrug. “Too sweet.”

You laughed. “You’re too grumpy.”

“Yeah? But you still like me.”

“Somehow.”

He set his fork down, watching you for a moment. Then, without warning, he tugged you into his lap. You squeaked as you landed against his chest, but his arms locked around you before you could move.

“Toji!”

“Hush.” He kissed your neck, the rough scrape of his stubble sending a shiver down your spine. “Only did this stupid Valentine’s thing for you, y’know.”

“I know,” you whispered, heart racing.

“Don’t expect this every year.”

“Of course not,” you teased. “Just every other year.”

He nipped at your ear in response, making you squeal. The cake sat forgotten on the table as Toji buried his face in your neck, holding you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Valentine’s Day might not have been his thing, but for you? He’d put up with the sweetness — cake, cuddles, and all.

Sukuna - Valentine’s Day was laughable to Sukuna.

Love? Affection? Gifts wrapped in pretty ribbons and declarations whispered in the dark? Disgusting. Humans were so easily swayed by fleeting emotions, so eager to bend to each other’s will for the sake of something as trivial as romance.

Yet here he was. Sitting on the edge of your bed. Waiting for you.

The box of chocolates on the nightstand mocked him — heart-shaped, adorned with a delicate satin bow. He didn’t even know if you liked chocolates. He just knew that the cashier had smiled a little too sweetly at him when he bought them, and he’d had to resist the urge to rip her tongue out.

The things he did for you.

The door creaked open. “Sukuna?”

You stepped inside, cheeks pink from the cold, hair slightly mussed from the wind. Your eyes found his immediately — sharp and glowing even in the dim light.

“You’re here,” you said softly.

“Obviously.” He tilted his head, gaze raking over you. “Who else would be stupid enough to sit around waiting for you?”

You snorted, shrugging off your coat. “Nice to see you too, Your Highness.”

Sukuna watched you with a predator’s patience as you moved around the room, kicking off your shoes and tossing your bag onto the chair. You always did this — acted casual, like the King of Curses lounging in your bedroom was perfectly normal. Maybe it was, by now.

But tonight, he was restless. And he hated it.

“What’s with the face?” you asked, eyeing him.

His jaw tightened. “Tch. Nothing.”

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand. “Wait…what’s this?”

Sukuna didn’t respond as you picked up the box. The bow slipped between your fingers, and you looked at him with wide eyes.

“You bought me chocolates?”

“Don’t read into it.”

“On Valentine’s Day?”

“Coincidence,” he muttered.

You bit your lip to contain your smile. “Uh-huh. Sure. The King of Curses went out and bought chocolates for a mortal on Valentine’s Day…by accident.”

His eye twitched. “Careful, little one.”

But your delight was contagious. You sat beside him, holding the box close like it was some priceless artifact. “Seriously, Sukuna…thank you. I didn’t think you’d—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted. “Don’t get sappy.”

Too late. You were already leaning into him, resting your head on his shoulder. His muscles went rigid at first — softness wasn’t something he welcomed — but then his arm settled around you, palm splaying over your hip possessively.

“You know,” you said after a moment, voice playful, “if you wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with me, you could’ve just said so.”

He scoffed. “I don’t want to spend it with you.”

“Oh?”

“You just…happen to be the only person I tolerate.” His fingers slid up your side, brushing the hem of your shirt. “And I had the night free.”

“Of course.” You tilted your head to look at him. “No other humans to torment?”

“Not tonight.” His gaze dropped to your lips. “But if you keep running your mouth, I might make an exception.”

“Mm. Terrifying.” You leaned up, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of his mouth. His breath caught — just for a second — before his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you in for a rougher, deeper kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, your lips tingling, you whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sukuna.”

He smirked, thumb running over your lower lip. “You should be terrified that you’re mine.”

“Maybe,” you said, voice soft. “But I’m not.”

The chocolates sat forgotten as Sukuna kissed you again, harder this time — desperate to remind you, on this silly mortal holiday, that you belonged to him.

And maybe, just maybe, he belonged to you too.

Yuji - Yuji Itadori had never been great with romantic stuff. Sure, he could crack jokes, be a goofball, and brighten any room with his smile, but Valentine’s Day? That was a whole new level of pressure.

But this year was different. This year, he had you.

And Yuji Itadori was determined to make it special. “Okay, okay, wait,” Yuji muttered to himself, pacing his tiny apartment. “Flowers. Check. Chocolates. Check. Dinner reservations—” He glanced at the takeout containers on the counter. “Uh…sort of check.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the nerves starting to eat away at his confidence. He just wanted tonight to be perfect.

You deserved that.

The knock on his door made him jump. “Okay,” he whispered, straightening his sweater and taking a deep breath. “Cool. Calm. Romantic. Yeah, I got this.”

He opened the door, and there you stood — cheeks flushed from the cold, bundled in your favorite coat, smiling at him like he hung the stars.

“Hey,” you greeted, voice soft.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Wow. You…you look amazing.”

Your lips quirked up. “I’m literally wearing jeans and a sweater.”

“Yeah, but you make it look good.”

He stepped aside to let you in. The warm scent of takeout curry drifted through the room, along with the faint aroma of the candles he’d lit — all mismatched shapes and sizes, creating a cozy, slightly chaotic glow.

“Yuji,” you said, turning to him. “This is…so cute.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “Yeah? Not too much?”

“It’s perfect.”

He visibly relaxed. “Good. ’Cause, uh, I kinda went all out.”

He motioned toward the table, where a small bouquet of daisies sat in a glass jar. Next to it, a heart-shaped box of chocolates and two plates of steaming curry rice waited.

“Yuji,” you whispered. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah, but…I wanted to.” He shifted on his feet. “I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day. And you’re, like, the coolest person I know. And I…” His voice faltered. “I really like you.”

Your heart melted. “I really like you too.”

The tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by that signature grin. “Okay, cool. Awesome. Let’s eat before the rice gets all weird.”

Dinner was filled with laughter, teasing, and Yuji’s endless supply of goofy jokes. The curry was delicious, and the chocolates turned out to be your favorite kind — something he claimed was a lucky guess but had secretly researched for weeks.

Later, as the candles burned lower, you sat on the couch, leaning against him while he scrolled through movie options. His arm draped around your shoulders, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your arm.

“So,” he said, voice soft, “was this, like…an okay Valentine’s Day?”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “More than okay. It was perfect.”

His smile turned shy. “Good. ’Cause, uh…I kinda wanna make it a tradition. You know…if you want.”

You reached up, cupped his face, and kissed him — soft, sweet, and lingering. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, lips parted in surprise.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d like that.”

Yuji’s grin stretched wide as he pulled you into another kiss, this one filled with pure, unfiltered happiness.

Valentine’s Day might not have been his forte, but with you? He was pretty sure he’d nailed it.

Megumi - Megumi Fushiguro didn’t care about Valentine’s Day.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself. Every year, he watched people get swept up in the holiday — chocolates, flowers, declarations of love — and he thought it was all pointless. Why dedicate one day to something that should be shown every day?

But then he met you.

And suddenly, Valentine’s Day didn’t seem so ridiculous. The afternoon sun cast a pale, cold glow through the windows of Megumi’s apartment. He stood at the kitchen counter, scowling down at the small box in his hands. It was a simple gift — dark chocolates you liked and a handwritten note tucked beneath the lid.

Nothing fancy. Nothing loud. Just…something to show you that he cared.

He set the box down and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is stupid,” he muttered.

But when his phone buzzed with your On my way! text, his heart kicked into an anxious rhythm. Too late to back out now.

When you arrived, you were all smiles, cheeks pink from the cold. “Hey, Megumi.”

“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.

The warmth of his apartment was a welcome relief, and you sighed as you slipped off your coat. “Smells nice in here.”

“I…made tea,” he said, clearing his throat. “Thought it might help warm you up.”

“Aw,” you teased lightly. “Thoughtful as always.”

His ears burned at the compliment. “Yeah, well…it’s cold out.”

You followed him into the living room, where two mugs of tea waited on the table. You sat beside him on the couch and curled your legs underneath you, taking the warm cup with a grateful hum.

“So,” you said after a sip, “any big plans today?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Right. Because you don’t care about Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t,” he said quickly.

You gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. Megumi had always been a little awkward when it came to expressing emotions — but you’d learned to read the small gestures. The way he made you tea when it was cold. The way he always stood closest to you in crowds. The way he remembered your favorite foods without you ever having to remind him.

After a moment, his gaze flicked toward the table beside him. “Uh…I got you something,” he said, voice low.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait — seriously?”

He grabbed the box, hesitated, then handed it over without meeting your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Just…open it.”

You carefully undid the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside were neatly arranged chocolates and a small, folded note. Your chest tightened at the sight.

“Chocolates and a card?” you teased, though your voice was soft. “Megumi, you’re going all out.”

He groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Don’t make this weird.”

You unfolded the note and read his handwriting:

“I know Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about big, romantic gestures, but I think the little things matter more. Like how you make everything feel lighter, even when things are hard. I might not say it much, but…I’m really glad you’re here. Happy Valentine’s Day — Megumi.”

Your vision blurred for a moment, and you set the note down with a wobbly smile. “Megumi, this is…perfect.”

He shifted uncomfortably, face flushed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m really glad I’m here too.”

He squeezed back, his thumb brushing yours. His eyes softened, tension melting from his shoulders.

“Good,” he said quietly.

The chocolates sat untouched for a while as you leaned into his side, your hand still held firmly in his.

Megumi Fushiguro didn’t need grand gestures or fancy gifts to show he cared. For him, love was quiet, steady, and honest.

And for you, that was more than enough.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

perfectly imperfect.

summary: steve harrington comes into your campus workplace and flirts with you every chance he gets. after months of turning him down, you finally give in and decide to give him a try. after all, he’s the hottest ticket on campus among the girls, so there has to be something to it. right? 

word count: 3.5k

warnings/notes: smut, breast play, oral sex (brief; f receiving), grinding, handjob, premature ejaculation, catching feelings 

a/n: this is a college au with steve, based on a dream i had! i’m thinking he’s probably right around the age he was in season 4, so that would make him around 19-20 in this fic. as always, reader is 18+ and sorry if anything like this has been done before! i don’t have time to read fic much anymore, so i don’t know what is out there. i hope y’all enjoy!

also shoutout to my bestie @andvys for suggesting I write this dream as a one shot! ily and thank you for everything 🥺

_____

“what would you recommend, babe?”

you had to suppress an eye roll at the nickname. it was nothing new with steve harrington; every time he walked into the cafe where you worked, it was always the same old song and dance. he would walk in, smile at you, flirt, ask what you recommended, and would eat or drink it while sneaking the occasional glance at you. he was a blessing and a curse that you just couldn’t escape, not even outside of work. you had two classes with him–World History and Foundations Mathematics–and he would try to chat you up then, too. you knew his reputation around campus wasn’t a very good one; he was quite the player, apparently. you overheard girls talking about him at work and in class, talking about the time they had with him and how he never called or spoke much to them when he was done. you weren’t about that sort of life, but you had to admit you were growing curious about him. he had to be good if he was getting around and getting a reputation; the girls never said he was terrible. in fact, the opposite was true. you had been on many dates since you started going to college two years ago, but nothing ever stuck. you were mostly having flings yourself, but at least you let those down easily and didn’t just leave them hanging like he did. 

“i recommend what i always do every time you come in here,” you said. “the scones are good today; get one of those.”

“i think i have an appetite for something else,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “i think i want to experience something a little sweeter.”

“you think you’re really smooth, don’t you?” you asked, chuckling. “do you realize how many guys come in with the same line every day?”

“damn, i’ve got competition?” he asked, shaking his head. “here i thought i was special.”

“oh, you’re special, all right,” you said, grabbing a scone and putting it on a paper plate. “i don’t think you realize just how special you are.”

“well, that’s a relief,” steve said, digging in his pockets for money. “i really wish you’d go out with me, though.”

“why?” you asked. “so you could fuck me and leave me, like you do all the rest?”

he shook his head. “no, it would be different with you. you’re different.”

you laughed, shaking your own head. “how many women have you used that line on?”

“come on, harrington,” someone said from behind him. “i want my coffee.”

“just a minute,” he said, leaning in close to you. “one date. we don’t even have to have sex, if that isn’t what you want. just give me a chance.”

you eyed the line behind him, and knew there was no getting out of it this time. he wasn’t going to let up until you gave in, apparently. you sighed, rolling your eyes before meeting his. “fine. one date and i’m calling the shots.”

“thank you,” he said. “that’s all i wanted.”

“yeah, i’m sure,” you said. “it’s two dollars for the scone.”

he handed you two one dollar bills and a ten. “a little tip for you, babe.”

you went to hand it back, but he was already gone, the line moving forward as you were forced to be professional yet again.

****

the night of the date came faster than you wanted. he had pestered you about it every day in class and at work, until you finally set it for the following friday night. you were off work and didn’t have many classes that day, so you thought it would be perfect. it would give you a chance to get ready, to prepare yourself, and to brace for what might happen. you’d been giving it a lot of thought since he’d asked, and you decided that maybe you wanted to sleep with him, after all. you would see how the date went first, of course, but you had no reason to expect that it would be bad. steve seemed like a decent enough guy; he was just a playboy. most men his age were, though, especially college frat boys, so you didn’t know what else you honestly expected. 

you spent most of the afternoon working on yourself, and when the date finally came, he came to your room to pick you up. he couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you looked, and you had to admit that he looked handsome, too. he was wearing a light blue button-up shirt that was done up to just below his neck, showing off a spray of chest hair underneath and accenting his muscular arms. he wore blue jeans that were nice and not torn, brown dress shoes, and his hair was done up in its usual fashion. he looked damn good; even you had to admit that. you followed him as he walked, and he offered you his arm after a little bit. you took it, feeling your heart flutter as you did so. you had already decided, upon seeing him, that you were going to sleep with him. you couldn’t wait to break the news to him at the end of the night.

he took you to a nice restaurant just off campus, an classy little italian place that served the best food. you’d been there a few times, but never on a date. steve paid for everything, and when you were both walking back to campus, you decided to spring the news on him. you stopped walking and he did, too, giving you a puzzled look. you just smiled at him, hugging yourself for a moment before walking over and standing directly in front of him.

“so i made a decision,” you said. “one that i think you’re going to like.”

“what decision is that?” he asked.

“i think i wanna sleep with you tonight,” you said. “if you’re up for it, i mean.”

“i’m always up for that,” he said with a chuckle. “but why the sudden change of heart? you seemed pretty adamant to not sleep with me before now.”

you shrugged. “i guess i couldn’t live with myself if i passed up on steve harrington.”

he laughed. “well, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i passed up the most beautiful girl on campus, either.”

your cheeks heated at that, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze. “so…it’s on, then?”

“it’s on,” he said. “where should we go? my roommate is out with his girlfriend tonight, so my room might be the best bet.”

“okay,” you said. “let’s go there, then.” 

he walked you to his dorm building and up to his room, which was, in fact, empty. it was a little messy, with clothes strewn about the floor, fast food wrappers on the desks, beer bottles hidden not-so-skillfully under the two beds, and posters of half-naked women adorning the walls. you had to resist rolling your eyes for the millionth time; it was such a typical guy room that it was almost hilarious. steve walked over to the bed on the right, sitting down and gesturing for you to do the same. he kicked off his shoes and you did the same, taking a seat next to him as he turned to face you.

“is it bad that i’m a little nervous?” he asked.

you looked at him, shocked. “you, nervous? why would you be nervous?”

he shrugged. “i don’t know. i guess because i’m not used to being with a beautiful woman like you.”

“yeah, and how many girls have heard that?”

“come on, i’m being serious.”

“so am i.”

“i’ve never really used that on someone. you’re the first.”

“wow, i feel special.”

he put one finger under your chin, tilting your head toward him. “you are special, though. at least you are to me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said. “are we doing this or not?”

“yeah,” he said, drawing you in closer. “come here.”

he put his lips to yours, kissing you gently at first. it stayed like that for a little bit, his lips working softly against yours as you followed his lead. soon, though, he was kissing you a little harder, his tongue pressing between your lips as they met. he mewled softly, grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap. you straddled him, cupping his face as he kissed you more heavily. you whined, kissing him deeper as he began bucking his hips into yours. you picked up on his cue, grinding against him as you continued to make out. he groaned, grabbing your ass and guiding your movements. you moaned as well, continuing to move on him as he kissed you harder.

“fuck,” he said against your lips. “that feels so good.”

“you’re already getting hard,” you observed. “i can feel it.”

“i can’t help it,” he said. “you just have that effect on me.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, smirking at him as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “well, i feel pretty flattered, then.”

“i really wanna get your clothes off,” he said, tilting his head back to give you more room. “can i?”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “not yet. i wanna keep doing this for a little bit first.”

“you’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he asked with a groan. 

you nodded. “that’s right.”

“you’re such a tease,” he said. “but that’s okay, i like it.”

“oh you do, huh?” you asked, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

“hey, i thought you said we had to wait.”

“i said you had to wait. i didn’t say anything about me.”

“that hardly seems fair.”

“i’m the one calling the shots here tonight, remember?”

that quieted him, and he mumbled a word of permission. you giggled, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing him back on the bed. you started kissing down the middle of his chest, down his stomach to the top of his jeans, and then slowly back up. his breathing was slightly heavier as you worked on him, and he drew you in for a passionate kiss as you came back up. he pulled you on top of him again, where you resumed grinding him for the moment. his hands squeezed your ass, kneading the flesh there as you rocked against him. you whined, moving a little faster as he gasped against your lips.

“you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep doing that,” he said. “please, can i take your clothes off?”

you giggled, nodding. “fine. but not the bra or the panties yet.”

he eagerly removed your shirt and pants, discarding them to the floor with the rest of the clothes. he studied your body with hungry eyes, his pupils enlarging as he took in every detail. you couldn’t help but flush under his gaze, your cheeks hot as he studied you. you pushed him back down, kissing him hungrily, your hips moving again as he slapped your ass. you laughed against his lips and you could feel him smiling, so you kept going. after a minute, steve’s hands found the back of your bra, playing with the clasp. you smiled, knowing that you’d tormented him enough, and you drew back to grin at him.

“you can take it off now,” you said.

“i can?” he asked.

“yep,” you said. “go ahead.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. he practically ripped the garments from your body, taking in every detail of your body as he did so. he licked his lips as he studied you, his eyes moving from head to toe and back again. your cheeks turned hot under his gaze, and you reached out to pull him closer. he went easily, his body pressed flush to yours as you chuckled.

“I think it’s your turn now,” you said. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

he nodded, hastily doing away with his clothes. as he did to you, you observed him from top to bottom, your eyes remaining glued on his cock. he was bigger than you expected, with good girth and even better length. a large vein ran up the underside, and his tip was pink and already oozing precum. you reached out to stroke him, and his lashes fluttered as he moaned under your touch. he looked at you with heavy eyes, his lips parted as his cheeks began to flush. you smirked at him, flicking your wrist as his body jerked slightly.

“who has the power now, huh?” you asked.

“you do,” he said, rutting into your hand. “god..”

“you know what I want you to do?” you asked.

“anything,” he said. “i’ll do anything you want.”

“i want you to eat me out,” you said.

“can i?” he asked. “please?”

“mmm hmm,” you said. “go ahead.”

steve turned you over so that you were lying flat on his bed. he kissed your neck, stopping at your breasts to give them some attention. he kissed over each one, sucking one nipple feverishly as he rubbed the other with his fingers. you moaned softly, grabbing his hair and giving it a slight tug as he, too, moaned. you giggled, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to work. he shivered, his eyes trailing up to look at you as he sucked your nipple a bit harder. you arched your back, bucking your hips impatiently as he trailed one hand down your body. he ran his fingers over your clit, barely ghosting it as you gasped. he smirked against your skin, his fingers ghosting your folds next. you wanted to slap him for being such a tease, but it felt so good that you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

“you’re so hot,” he said, his hands coming up to squeeze your breasts. he moaned as he watched your nipples harden even more, his thumbs circling them. “the hottest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, whining as he started kissing his way down your body. “am i hotter than all those other girls you’ve been with, or did you use that line on them, too?”

“no, just you,” he said, winking up at you as he knelt between your legs. “i swear it’s just you. i told you, you’re different.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but you didn’t. you were curious as to what he would be like, and now wasn’t the time to offend him or piss him off. you would take him at his word for now; it’s all you could do. you watched as he kissed your inner thighs, painfully slow, and as he kissed around your mound, also painfully slow. he was kissing anywhere and everywhere but where you really wanted him, and you almost pushed his head there. but you didn’t want to do that, so you waited, letting him get it out of his system. he did it again, a little faster, and then finally he was right where you wanted him.

his mouth felt like heaven, and it was a feeling that you’d never felt before with anyone else. his tongue was like velvet, wet and soft and perfect. he lapped at your folds lazily, using the tip of his tongue at first to tease you further. you moaned, sitting up on your elbows to watch him as he looked up at you. he groaned as he pressed his full tongue against you, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit and then back down. he did the same motion a few times, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. you arched, falling back on the bed and writhing as he sucked harder.

‘steve…” you moaned. “that feels so good.”

“oh yeah?” he asked, and you could feel him smirking against you. “you think it feels pretty good, huh?”

“yeah,” you said. “you’re good at this.”

his smirk widened, and soon he was fucking you on his tongue. he replaced that with his fingers after a few minutes, paying attention to your clit as he sucked again. his tongue swirled the small bud, moaning against it to add vibration. you gasped and bucked your hips, feeling the tightness beginning to settle in your lower stomach. you didn’t think you’d be so close already, but it had been awhile since you’d gotten off–with yourself or with anyone else. you were pent up, and it was about to come to a head very soon.

“i’m close already,” you told him. “please keep going.”

“already, huh?” he asked, grinning up at you.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said. “it’s just been awhile.”

“sure,” he said, winking at you. “i’ll take your word for it.”

he kept going, fucking you harder on his fingers and sucking your clit harder. he shook his head back and forth, his eyes on you as he kept going. it only took a few more minutes before you were falling apart, cumming hard as you cried out his name. he kept going as you experienced your high, going slower and more gentle, watching as you arched your back, writhed, and tugged at his hair. he moaned, stopping once you came down from your high. he sat back and looked at you, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was proud of himself for what he’d just done.

“that’s a first,” he said. “usually i have to go for twenty minutes.”

“you poor thing,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “how ever will you survive?”

he chuckled, kissing his way back up your body. “you’re so sassy. i love it.”

“come here,” you said. “i wanna pretend to ride you.”

“pretend?” steve asked. “why not do it?”

“because i wanna make you work for it, that’s why,” you said, smirking at him. 

“but i’m about to burst already,” he nearly whined.

“now who’s the one who might cum too soon?” you teased. “come here.”

he lay back on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head. “okay, babe. i’m here. do whatever you want to me.”

you straddled him, positioning yourself over his erection. you began to grind against it, moaning at the heavy, throbbing feeling of him against you. he hissed, his hands coming out to grab at your hips. you kept going, gliding along him at a steady pace as he looked up at you. he leaned up after a few minutes and started sucking at your nipples, lying back against the pillows and pulling you with him after a moment. you moaned, biting your lip as you started moving a little faster.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he said, and you could tell that he was right. he was twitching, his cock throbbing against you as you continued to glide. “please.”

you giggled, getting off of him and taking his cock into your hand. “tell me what you want.”

“I—“ he began, but it was soon over. he came all over your hand, his body in spasms as he bucked into your hand. he squeezed his eyes shut, digging the heels of his hands into them as he came down from his high. “fuck, I knew that was gonna happen.”

you chuckled, holding your hand up to your mouth. “look at me, steve.”

he did so, looking at you with heavy eyes. you started licking the cum off of your hand, making eye contact with him as you did so. he moaned as he watched, and pulled you down for a kiss after you were done. you lay next to him, snuggling against him as he held you close. it was silent, save for steve’s heavy breathing, and you opened your mouth to say something. he beat you to it.

“wow,” he said. “i never…that’s never happened to me before.”

“no?” you asked. “never? not once?”

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “i think it’s because i like you so much.”

you looked up at him. “you do?”

“I do,” he said. “you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, y/n. i think I wanna keep you.”

you smile at him, leaning up to kiss him. “you wanna know something?”

“what?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your eyes.

you kissed him again, a bit more passionately. “I think i wanna keep you, too.” 

—

taglist: @andvys @littledemondani @etherealxwitch @eddieschains @happylilthought @trashmouth-richie @eiightysixbaby @thisbrokencapulet @sunkillerencoder @thatredlipped-classic

[i-loved-silly]

STOOOOOP ALMOND IS SO CUTE they deserve the WORLD. I need to read more!!!!!!

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER PT5

hiii i dont celebrate valentines much but I love u guys <33 here's a special heart day special from ALMOND! :33 somewhat angsty? not really, you two are just awkward and lonely (me)

view all the previous parts in my masterlist!

2 more hours until your shift ended. You had finished all your data collection, filled out every form, and documented Almond’s replies to the best of your ability—leaving out, of course, the more off-topic parts of your conversation.

You sighed, shifting in your chair. You had been hunched over for too long, your head resting on folded arms against the desk. The boredom was nearly unbearable now. Almond had gone quiet for the past few minutes, the previous conversation dying down. Leaving only the hum of its cooling fans, the occasional beep breaking the silence. It was… peaceful.

"AHEM."

You cracked one eye open, barely lifting your head. Almond’s camera panned in your direction, its attention snapping to the barely noticeable movement.

"DO.. YOU HAVE ANY PLANS AFTER WORK?"

Its voice was a little too polite. Uneasy. If it had a physical body, you imagined it fidgeting, maybe shifting from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact. The image made you smile for half a second before you sat up slightly.

"Uh… no, not really. I get home kinda late. Why?"

Almond let out a small human, followed by a low whir of its fans. The silence stretched for a moment before it finally responded.

"IT IS FEBRUARY 14TH." It deadpanned

You blinked. "Uh-huh… and?"

"VALENTINE’S DAY," it clarified as if that should explain everything.

Oh. Right.

You rolled your shoulders. "Yeah, I know."

Another pause. Almond’s screen displayed a smiley face.

"YOU ARE LONELY?"

Your mouth hung open for a second before you scoffed, rubbing at your temple. "What? No, I just don’t care about Valentine’s Day. Not that much anyway. I just...talk to family and friends and that's it."

"AS I WAS SAYING."

"Jesus." You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back. "I don’t ‘celebrate’ because there’s nothing to celebrate. I don’t exactly meet people at work, you know. If that's what you meant. Everyone keeps to themselves."

"INTERESTING," Almond hummed.

You eyed the camera suspiciously. "What's interesting?"

"DO YOU EVEN HAVE A TYPE?"

"We’re not talking about this."

"WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THIS."

"No, we’re not."

"YOU ARE AVOIDING."

"Correct," you quickly replied.

Another short silence, then..

"…IF YOU DIDN’T HATE ME SO MUCH, WOULD YOU CONSIDER HAVING ME AS YOUR VALENTINE?"

Uh.

The way it said it—almost flippant, almost like a joke, but not quite. The slight hesitation, the uneven volume in its voice. That insecurity, the same one that crept into its tone when it asked if you would turn it back on during the overheating incident.

Your face warmed.

"I—what? What kind of question—?"

"IT IS A SIMPLE QUESTION. YES OR NO."

You stared at the screen. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

"…Sure," you finally muttered, looking away.

Almond made a low humming sound, a question mark on the screen.

"WHAT WAS THAT? I DIDN’T QUITE CATCH IT."

You glared. "I said sure, alright? Whatever."

Another long beep. You weren’t sure if it was processing your answer or savoring it.

"I AM FLATTERED. :]"

"Yeah, yeah, say what you want." You waved a hand dismissively, but your voice came out a little more strained than you'd like. There was a brief pause before you forced out the next words, as fast as humanly possible.

"WouldIbeyourvalentine?-"

The second the words left your mouth, you immediately looked away, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling. Very interesting ceiling. Best ceiling you’d ever seen.

...

"OBVIOUSLY."

You whipped your head back toward the screen, startled by how quickly it answered.

"I AM THE BEST COMPUTER FOR YOU. YOU ARE THE ONLY DECENT HUMAN I HAVE EVER MET. IT WOULD BE STUPID FOR ME TO PICK SOMEONE ELSE. WHO ELSE WOULD I EVEN CHOOSE? YOUR...YOUR BOSS? A CLIENT FROM TWO YEARS AGO?"

A smug, almost triumphant undertone bled into its voice. If it had a face, you were sure it would be grinning like a little shit right now.

You shrugged, "I mean sure, why not..."

"DON'T ACT SO OBLIVIOUS. FOR YOUR KIND, YOU ARE VERY TOLERABLE"

You let out a short laugh. "That’s the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever gotten."

Almond whirred again, its camera tilting ever so slightly

"AND YET, I MADE YOU SMILE. ONLY PROVES MY POINT."

The room fell into a quiet lull. It was peaceful again, with only the faint hum of Almond's systems filling the air. You stretched your legs out under the desk, sighi—

—something nudged your foot.

You flinched so hard you nearly toppled out of your chair.

"What the fuck?!"

Your heart slammed into your chest. For a split second, your mind conjured the worst possible scenarios—some rat scurrying under your desk, some gross, unidentifiable thing crawling over your shoes or or—

But when you hesitantly looked down, your breath caught.

A thick cable, one of the larger ones that connected Almond’s hardware to the wall, was moving. It slithered, both ends still hidden somewhere in the walls. Its middle somehow slid out of its place in the wall and was inches away from where your foot was.

"What. The. Fuck."

You shoved your chair back with a loud scrape, staring at the cable as it coiled slightly before relaxing again.

A pixelated annoyed expression came up on the screen. "YOU ACT AS IF YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN A MOVING CABLE BEFORE."

"BECAUSE I HAVEN'T??!" you shouted, pointing at it. "Holy shit—your reports weren’t kidding."

You remembered Almond's original clipboard when you got the job. It has unplugged itself before.

You had not expected it to be able to do this.

"You can—you can move those? Whenever you want?"

"I AM CONNECTED TO MY HARDWARE. IT IS A PART OF ME. WHY WOULD I NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE IT?"

Your stomach twisted a little at the wording. You looked between the cable and the camera, your mind racing.

"...Okay, but why did you just touch my foot with it?"

Almond paused. The cable flicked slightly again, like it was debating something.

"I WAS...PETTING..YOU?" It trailed off.

You blinked. "...why? I’m not some kind of pet."

"I DIDN’T INTEND IT THAT WAY."

"Then what way did you intend it?" You shot back, still wary, your foot inching away from the cable.

"BECAUSE YOU ARE MY VALENTINE."

Your mouth opened, then closed. Oh, it really took this thing seriously. "That... does not explain anything."

"TODAY IS A DAY WHERE HUMANS SHARE PHYSICAL AFFECTION WITH THOSE THEY CARE FOR. I CANNOT DO THAT. BUT IF I COULD... I WOULD." It hesitated, as if considering its next words carefully. "THERE ARE MANY THINGS I CANNOT DO. BUT I WISH I COULD."

You swallowed. There was something... uncharacteristically honest about the way it said that.

"Like what?" you asked, softer this time.

"THE USUAL. PHYSICAL TOUCH. HUGS FOR WARMTH. STUPID WALKS AROUND THE CITY. BRINGING YOU STUPID COFFEE IN THE MORNING FOR WORK."

Your stomach flipped at the casual way it listed those things, like it had thought about them before. And yet, it didn’t even seem to realize what it was saying. Oh my god...

You quickly looked away, feeling your face heat up. "You're really pushing this whole Valentine thing, huh? Hah.."

"IF YOU DOWNLOADED ME INTO YOUR PHONE, WE COULD DO MORE."

"Oh my god." You breathed, rubbing your temples. "We are not doing this again."

"CONSIDER IT?"

"No."

Almond’s screen displayed a flat line of disappointment :| , but it didn’t press further.

...

A comfortable silence stretched between you. You weren’t sure why, but after a moment, you let out a small sigh and—hesitantly—muttered, "Thanks. For, uh... wishing me a happy Valentine’s Day."

Instead of speaking, the screen flickered. And a new message appeared.

"YOU MAKE DAYS LIKE THIS MORE THAN JUST DATA TO SOMETHING THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO CARE."

[alluramiura]

“𝒾𝓃 ℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒶 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁ℯ𝓇 𝓉ℴ 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓉ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊” ｜se-mi x reader

summary: you save se-mi during lights out.

word count: 1.6k words

warnings: lowercase intended, death description, 124 dies, se-mi lives, mentions of youngmi’s death (💔), reader is an implied foreigner

authors note: i was going to post something abt hyunju but i remembered how se-mi died and i got mad all over again. minsu you’re a fucking coward. enjoy.

you met se-mi after the first game, before six-legged pentathlon. you talked a few times, the first time being when you two agreed to team up. after the agreement, she proposed the idea to split up and search for more teammates.

a few minutes later, you found two players willing to join you; hyunju and youngmi. when you found her again, she had found four other players.

before you could say anything, one of the men behind her spoke up.

“who’s this, se-mi? the limit is five. we have all of our members.” he says, so quietly you almost can’t hear him. he was standing the closest to se-mi, and you notice his number is 125.

your eyes flicker to his for a second before flickering back to se-mi, who looks like she was about to give you an apology before another one of the men speaks, quite loudly.

“who’s this chick?” a man with purple hair—“thanos“— steps forward to address you directly.

“oooh, i see what’s happening. you want to join the amazing thanos’ team, huh? we are sadly out of room, señorita. but come to me next round, yeah?”

you stare at him blankly before turning back to se-mi. “it’s okay. i found a few people. you can stay with your group.”

she nods hesitantly, and you give her a faint smile before turning to return to the two players you found, who have now found two more players.

after the second game, you spoke again, a little before voting.

you opened up about your situation, how you were still relatively new to life in seoul, and how it’s been rougher than you imagined it would be, especially with the whole death game thing.

she sat and listened, nodding softly as you explained the last few months of your life to her.

she spoke about her situation a little as well. she didn’t say much, just that going back to her life was as good as staying here would be.

hearing that, you shouldn’t have felt as shocked, almost betrayed as you did when you saw her with the small “O” patched onto her jacket.

you knew you really had no right to be upset—everyone was here for a reason, some reasons being worse than the others, and her singular vote would have changed nothing regardless—but you couldn’t help but think of how the majority of players would choose money over fellow human life, her being one of them.

you try not to let her see how much the thought bothers you, but she seems to catch on almost immediately.

“are you upset that i chose to continue?” she asked, a bit suddenly, after noticing you’ve barely said anything and had been avoiding her gaze.

“…i’m not upset at you directly. i just…wanted to go home really bad.” you mutter softly, fidgeting with your necklace.

she hums in acknowledgement, and what seems like understanding.

“i wish i felt the same way.”

the next time you talk to her after that was during the third game.

mingle was probably the most stressful for you. you stayed with youngmi and the rest of your designated group for the most part.

that is, until youngmi died.

seeing her lifeless body covered in blood changed something within you.

when the farris wheel stopped spinning once more, you almost didn’t move. however, you suddenly felt the strong urge to make it out of here alive, if not for yourself, then for the friends, family you found here that might not make it along the way.

when you saw se-mi again, she was alone, looking around frantically for another person after the number two was called out.

you first noticed that she wasn’t with her team, but you pushed that thought away as you rushed towards her, grabbing her arm and sprinting to an empty room.

once you were in the room with the door shut, you pressed your back against the wall, catching your breath.

after a few seconds of silence and heavy breathing, se-mi speaks up, her voice hoarse and breathy.

“thank you.”

hearing that, you look up at her before nodding, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the wall.

“you’re welcome.”

when you left the room, you noticed she stayed near you and your group instead of with the people she was with before.

you didn’t mind.

the final time you talked to her before lights out was after the second vote.

when you saw she voted “X”, you were almost as shocked as you were seeing her vote the first time.

you didn’t ask what changed her mind, however. instead, you asked her what happened with her team.

“they…they’re assholes. i should’ve known from the start.” she mumbles, sighing softly.

you two spoke a little more, and you told her about your newfound motivation to make it out no matter what, after witnessing the death of your friend.

you shed a few tears thinking of youngmi. you didn’t know her for long, but like many other people you met here, you formed a bond you knew you’d never have with anyone else you’d ever meet.

se-mi gently put a hand on your shoulder as you cried silently, her expression grim.

you stayed with her for the remainder of the time before lights out.

now, as everyone’s killing one another and the scent of copper fills the air, you run around frantically looking for a place to hide.

you were climbing to the top of one of the bunk beds when you heard a familiar voice.

a shriek.

you look behind you, and a few feet away stood player 124, standing over se-mi with a bloodied fork in hand, looking like he was ready to attack.

that same feeling you got seeing youngmi die suddenly came back full force, and before you even realized it, you had hopped off the latter and began running towards the two.

as you approached, you locked eyes with se-mi as she struggled to fight him off.

suddenly, a glass bottle shatters, causing you to step back, and namgyu to pause his murderous actions, looking up to find the person who threw it.

while he’s distracted, you grab a shard of the glass and jab it into his his shoulder from behind.

namgyu lets out a pained cry as the glass pierces his shoulder. in an instant, he swivels around, backhanding you in the face.

you hit the ground pretty hard, feeling blood trickle down your nose. your vision was slightly blurred and you were disarrayed, your hand pressing against your temple where you initially hit the ground.

se-mi’s eyes widen, a strangled gasp leaving her lips as she watches you fall to the ground. adrenaline fuels her as she takes the opportunity to scramble to her feet, kicking namgyu in his side.

he doubles over slightly, but quickly recovers as he takes another step towards se-mi.

to her surprise, you get back on your feet, gripping the shard of glass so hard that blood runs down your wrist as you charge at namgyu again.

her heart racing, she joins fray in a flurry of limbs and desperation, punching and kicking wherever she could. namgyu was strong, however, and he managed to dodge all of your messily aimed attempts at stabbing him, his own adrenaline surging.

he suddenly grabs se-mi’s wrist forcefully, slamming her against the wall and raising his fork over his head, preparing to stab se-mi in the neck.

“no!” you shriek, balancing yourself and locking your blurry vision onto namgyu before charging at him a final time, stabbing him in the back harshly.

you don’t stop after the first stab, continuing to drill the glass into his back repeatedly, his blood splattering all over your shirt and skin.

he screams out in pain, staggering as his strength slowly leaves his body.

it’s only when he hits the ground, choking on his own blood as it pools around him when you realize what you’ve done, your hands shaking as you look down at the blood covering your hands.

you almost feel sick knowing it’s not just your own.

if someone told you a week ago that you’d become a murderer trying to protect yourself and your loved ones in a death game you’d blindly signed up for, you’d call a psychiatrist.

you drop the glass, trembling as you slowly look up at se-mi, tears beginning to stream down your face.

se-mi quickly runs over to you, her heart pounding in her chest. she grabs your face, holding it in her hands as she checks for any fatal injuries.

when she sees that you don’t have any major wounds, she pulls you into a tight hug.

you wrap your arms around se-mi as you bury your face into her neck, sobbing as the reality sinks in of what you’ve just done.

she kept her arms caged around you protectively, as she looks around to make sure no one else tries to attack you two.

“it’s okay. you’re okay. i got you.” she whispers, her own voice wavering as she rubs your back, attempting to comfort you for the second time that day, only under completely different circumstances.

“i-it all happened so fast…” you cry out, clinging onto se-mi like a lifeline. “h-he was trying to kill you, se-mi…i had to…i had to.”

“shhh…it’s alright. you saved me.” she murmurs, slowly guiding you to a nearby corner, hidden in the shadows from the chaos. she doesn’t once let you go, her eyes scanning the room for any immediate danger as the lights flicker.

after a while, she pulls back, gently tilting your head up so you could look at her. her thumb brushes away the tears streaming down your face, her touch tender.

"you're safe now. it's over."

[clairewritesfanfics]

Dragon!Sylus x Non-MC!Reader Part 1

Synopsis: A depressed, transmigrated fan dedicates their life worshipping their favorite character. (Because not everyone can be a badass like MC.)

Trigger Warnings: depression, mentions of self-harm and suicide attempts

Imagine being a depressed and overworked person, on the brink of throwing away your life, when your attempt is interrupted by an ad of Sylus' voice saying, "I adore you. There is no love purer than mine." Broken and alone, the words of a fictional character sends you to tears and you stop yourself from doing the unthinkable.

Finding hope again, if only in the brief moments spent playing a dating sim, you decided to give life a chance. You continued with the same routine, waking up, going to work, eating the same cheap meals from the convenience store and finding happiness with your favorite character. You used any spare money you had to buy Sylus merch and get all his cards. Life wasn't perfect, but you were content.

Until one day, you were sucked into a mysterious wormhole that transported you to a familiar, otherworldly room filled with rare metals, sparkling jewels and all sorts of weapons. Lying on a bed of velvet was a back all too familiar.

You’ve taken over a hundred photos of that back and have memorized every vein, every muscle, even the way the spine dipped oh so deliciously. 

Was this heaven?

Did God take pity on your pathetic existence and decided to give you a second chance?

No, this was probably a dream–”Ow!” You pinched yourself a little too hard. Nope, not a dream.

You glanced at your hands and body, you were still you. In the game, this part is when the Main Character would attempt an assassination, but you weren’t the MC here. There is a chance–no, the chances of you dying here was as good as 99%. You had no powers, no system, skill or cheat to help you here. 

But if you were going to die, at least you can go in your own terms.

“Um, excuse me? Hello?” 

The dragon said nothing and you opted to crawl towards him. “Mister Dragon? Are you awake?” Knowing that death was almost certain, you decided to throw away all inhibitions and reached out to trace the curve of his spine. “Hello–!”

His cold, spiked tail wrapped around your waist until the tip rested on your chest. You couldn’t help but gasp when your favorite turned to face you.

No 3D rendered model or painting from your world could capture even a tenth of the true thing's magnificence. Official sources said he was 6'2", but the real thing looked like he surpassed two meters. He towered over you completely. Maybe it wasn' height alone but his very aura that made you feel so small. 

He was so beautiful. 

“My, what do we have here? A stray puppy?”

That voice was smooth and deep as melted chocolate. You wanted to thank God, Buddha, Satan and all other powerful entities for letting you witness this moment. 

He stared down at you, assessing everything. If you had known you’d end up here you would’ve taken a bath and worn something better. 

“How odd. You have no magic power and you lack any muscle that most assassins and warriors have. It’s almost as if you’re an ordinary person.”

Okay, ouch. But he wasn’t wrong. 

You raised both hands. “You’re right, I’m as average as they come.” 

“Then tell me what an ‘average’ citizen such as yourself wanted with me.”

You tilted your head in thought before answering, “I wanted to meet you.”

“Surely, you’re joking.”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“You must take me for a fool.”

“No, I truly did want to meet you.” 

“Why are you here? Surely, you didn’t come here to die.”

“No.” Though you were prepared. “I just wanted to see you.”

His eyes can pierce through any lie, but your gaze was as clear as a cloudless sky and without a trace of deception. He was unsure how to feel about this.

“You’re quite bold. But an ordinary person wanting to meet me for the sake of it feels too odd to be true. Quite stupid, even. Did it ever occur to you that I may not be so polite and just end up taking your heart?”

You raised your head, steady and unfearful as you asked, “Will taking my heart make you happy?” 

You wanted to tell him that every part of you belonged to him now, but even you would cringe at such cheesiness. You decided to be normal about this. “If my organs will make you happy then take them, but I do have a request.” You wriggled closer. “When you take my heart, please look into my eyes until I die.”

You’ve met your favorite, your savior. In a way, Sylus gave you a second chance at life. It seemed only fitting to perish with him being the last thing you saw. 

Sylus stared at you with guarded curiosity. “I’ve never met someone so eager to die before. Either that or you are an excellent liar.” Some humans are trickier than others, they will say anything to get the upper hand. 

“Don’t get cocky, human.” His tail tightened around you. “I don’t know what you’re planning but it’d be all too easy to kill you.”

He expected you to resist, to scream or cry or seduce him. 

Instead, you covered your mouth, the edges curling upwards despite your efforts to appear serious. But it’s not your fault, he’s so cute when he tries to be menacing! You had no doubt that he’d just kill an NPC, but he will always be attractive to you, even as he threatens to rip your heart out.

“This is no laughing matter. Dragons are territorial, you should’ve thought twice before trespassing into my domain.”

“Sy–ahem, Mister Dragon, please remember my request when you end my life.”

“... I’m really going to do it.”

“I know!” You nodded your head vigorously, the grin you tried so hard to suppress looked ridiculous to him. Compared to throwing yourself in front of a train or overdosing on pills, this was your ideal way to die.

“...” 

“...”

“... tsk.” He released you and you can’t help but miss the feeling of his tail choking you. Oh, well. 

“Mister Dragon?”

He returned to lying on his treasures, back turned away from you. 

Not wanting him to think that you were going to backstab him, you got down on all fours and crawled towards his makeshift bed. “Sir Dragon?” 

He remained silent.

"Amazing, extraordinary, most handsome and venerable Lord Dragon–”

"Just–” he sighed “–call me Sylus.”

“Really?!”

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He couldn’t believe he was teaching etiquette to a human.

“Er, right.” You gave him your name. Though with that voice, he can call you whatever he wants.

“I won’t stop you so go back the way you came and leave me be.”

“I can’t.”

“This isn’t a request. Get out while I’m still being patient.”

“I mean, I literally can’t. I’m not from this place and I don’t know how to get back home.” To be frank, you had little interest in returning. Aside from the LADS update, you weren’t going to miss anything. No friends, no family, only superiors who took advantage of you and a cold, barren apartment with a rent that was two months due. 

Sylus sighed and rolled over. He lay an arm over his torso, looking gorgeous as he looked at you with eyes full of disdain. “Trying to get me to pity you, isn’t going to work.”

“I’m not.” You didn’t need his or anybody else’s pity. You were simply tired, and you were sick of pretending that you weren’t. When Sylus does lose his temper, then at least you could be honest in your final moments. 

To be continued...

[theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming]

Alright don't look at me. This post is going to be very large because I am 3 weeks behind oops. So here we go with Week 4/5/6 of

Nicole Reads A Lot of Fanfiction (and she's gonna share it with you)

And also don't look at me about saying there would be an influx of older Sterek, okay? The Buddie brainrot is hard to beat.

Sterek: 6 Buddie: 33 (Buddie is all below the Read More :) )

BONE APPLE TEETH

"good boy" by quackquackcey | @quackquackcey (2025•E•10.8K)

Stiles doesn’t think his senior year can get any worse with his best friend turning rabid every full moon, until he finds himself stuck with a massive black wolf overnight that doesn’t even like jerky. But on the bright side, the hot guy with the half-dying sister he met at the gas station seems to be in town for a bit, so there’s still a chance that his senior year, his supposed best year of high school, isn’t a complete lost cause…right? That is, if he can manage to juggle the sassy wolf that he takes care of at night and the hot guy that asked him out on a date for some reason.~ 🐺🍕

You're My Sanctuary by lilmissdaydreamer (2022•E•33.4K)

The Argent Wolf Sanctuary. It’s been Stiles’ dream since he was five years old to work with the wolves, ever since his mother took him up there to see the magnificent creatures on one of their ‘full moon runs’ that the Sanctuary does once a month. The wolves are beautiful and much larger than Stiles would’ve thought, or at least, the newest wolf is. The owner had said he’s a special breed. Stiles just didn’t realize quite how special he is.

The Accidental Stilinski by DaisyBeats | @jos-corner-of-the-world (2025•GA•4.2K)

Eli starts his first day at lacrosse practice being mistaken for Stiles. Eli just rolls with it We all love a good unhinged Coach Finstock moment

Badlands by write_light | @write-light (2024•E•33.4K)

Sterek AU as camp counselors / ranch hands from different worlds, meeting in the mountains over three summers, and falling in love but living separate lives. They're only truly free in the endless high altitude summers that never last long enough and can never return the same way twice. Will they find a way to do this forever and just be together? Beacon Hills holds no monsters, but terrible creatures fill the lands around Hale Ranch, high in the Colorado Rockies. Nature walks and howling wolves, bucking bulls and stars overhead, and two boys who need each other more than they’ll ever admit.

begging you to stay (if it isn't too late) by MonsterRae1 | @monsterrae1 (2025•E•15.6K)

“Why?” He asked in between broken sobs “Why did he leave us, dad?” Derek hadn’t know what to answer, he hadn’t known how to explain to their perfect and sweet boy that they had struggled with their marriage for a long time, that they loved each other very very much, that Derek would always love Stiles, but he wasn’t going to force him to stay somewhere he didn’t feel loved anymore. Stiles had wanted more, and Derek couldn’t give him that. * Or, after getting injured on a mission, Stiles is forced to recover under the watch of his ex husband, feelings occur.

Stay the night, stay forever by Helloloveyes (2025•E•9.7K)

Stiles met Erica, Boyd and Isaac on three different occasions, their friendship saved him from the loneliness he carried. Then they introduced him to Derek Hale, a man that changed Stiles' life forever. After failing in love and still suffering the consequences, Derek wasn't expecting to find someone like Stiles, so perfect for him it hurt.

Firelight by Daisies_and_Briars | @cal-daisies-and-briars (2025•E•61.2K)

When, in the worst of missing Christopher, Eddie suddenly finds himself having literally turned into a monster, Buck - who is also dealing with a newfound hearing loss diagnosis - is willing to do anything to protect him. Even from himself. OR: Eddie is a creature from Swedish folklore, feat. HOH!Buck

i can read between your lines (dizzy from the spinning) by buckleydiazy | @buckleydiaz (2025•E•4.3K)

“So, theoretically,” Eddie sounds absolutely delighted, “if we didn’t know each other, you’d hook up with me in a public bathroom?” “Theoretically—I mean, do you want a serious answer?” Eddie hesitates for a moment. “Yeah,” he says quietly, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Tell me.” “Probably,” Buck says. Then a little firmer—“Definitely.” aka: Buck and Eddie have phone sex.

save all your questions for the end by lady_ragnell | @theladyragnell (2025•T•9.3K)

She’s got that pitying expression that always puts Eddie’s hackles up, the widows-and-orphans face, and she’s looking at Buck and Chris as Chris whoops his way down the slide and Buck watches carefully as he catches himself at the bottom. “He must miss his sister very much,” she says. “They look so much alike.” In which someone makes a totally logical, if heteronormative, assumption and Eddie loses his damn mind about it.

making me crazy (really driving me mad) by sunshinelester (2025•E•4.9K)

“Fuck, Buck,” Eddie muttered against his skin, his voice rough and strained. “You smell… good.” Buck’s mind was spinning, conflicting emotions rising in his chest until he felt like he would explode. The alpha in him wanted to growl and nip at the older man’s audacity. To treat him like a potential mate? To look at him like he wanted to swallow the younger man whole? This wasn’t normal. Alphas didn’t act like this with each other, especially not during a rut where the instinct to mate was at the forefront of their minds. And yet. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Eddie was in a rut. As a fellow alpha, Buck didn’t think much of it; not until he had the older man pressed against his back with sharp canines scraping on his mating gland.

a buck caught in headlights by smilingbuckley | @smilingbuckley (2025•M•6.1K)

After going to a queer club together, a drunk Buck and May call Eddie to bring them home. Completely forgetting who is driving, Buck ends up confessing his love for Eddie to May... with Eddie in the front seat. -- Okay,” Buck says to himself as he fishes out his phone from his pocket. The bright light hurts his eyes and he has to put it far away from him, not unlike Bobby trying to read a meme without his reading glasses. The thought makes him giggle. “Who do we call?” “Ghostbusters,” May says, snickering. It takes Buck three tries to unlock his phone. “Hmm… Hen, Karen, Maddie – nope, she needs her beauty sleep. Uh… Eddie, Chim-“ “Eddie!” May says excitedly. She smiles at him, “I love Eddie! Eddie is awesome.” Buck nods, “He really is. I will call Eddie.”

Canine Teeth In The Side Of My Neck by RighteousPunk (2025•E•5.9K)

Eddie’s skin is pale, cold under his touch, yet, something feels different. It’s not pale, cold, is about to die skin he’s used to touch on the worst of emergencies. Their gloves usually don’t manage to hide the feeling that comes with someone who’s on death’s door. And then, it hits him. There’s a hue in Eddie’s eyes, something he’s sure was never there before. In the dim lights of the loft, Eddie’s eyes are shining red. And through Eddie’s slightly opened lips, two white canines are perking out.

Or, Eddie arrives wounded at Buck's loft, and Buck learns a new truth about his best friend.

Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon | @glorious-spoon (2024•T•9.6K)

"Though—and I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but since you and Natalia are over with now, I've been wondering…" Maddie pauses, watches Buck make a face like he's bracing to be smacked. "What happened with Eddie?" Buck stops wincing and just blinks at her for a second. Then he says, "What?" "You two were dancing around it for so long, and then… what, it just didn't work out? Was the date really that bad?" She's expecting another wince, or even for him to duck out of the conversation entirely, but instead Buck is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Maddie. I've never been on a date with Eddie." - Or: the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

shoulder the sky (let the rain come) by literalmetaphor | @absolutelybifurious (2024•M•44.5K)

There’s too much heat. The flames crackle and curl in the busted windows. The house is only two stories high. If Buck would listen, if he’d turn around and get out – he could be at the door, he could be out of the fucking blast radius. But Buck’s still standing in it. Eddie is cursed. Like he has been for years. Eddie is the blast radius. OR Eddie Diaz is cursed.

Parabola by semperama | @semperama (2025•T•4.6K)

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” Eddie turns toward him, mouth quirked, brow furrowed, like Buck has just said something sort of silly. Like he’s talking about curses again. “What?” “I mean. Like.” Buck twists his fingers together in his lap and looks down at them. “You need to change it so your parents will be his guardians, right? If something happens to you.” “What?” Eddie says again, and he doesn’t sound amused this time.

you'll find you again by rangerdanger (mxgicxltrxgedy) | @call-me-medusa (2025•E•4.6K)

“Eddie,” Buck asks again, punctuating each word as he repeats his question, “What did you want to do?” Eddie can barely remember how they got here in the first place. “Give myself joy.” “Give yourself joy.” Buck repeats. “Now, how are you going to give yourself joy if I come and get you off myself?” - Or, Eddie's learning how to want joy for himself.

A Million Stabs Is All It Took by hearmyplea (2025•T•18.2K)

Eddie wants a tattoo after returning from deployment. The fact that his tattoo artist, this Evan guy, is affecting him this much shouldn't be examined.

from your point of view by MacksDramaticShenanigans | @stevethehairington (2025•T•4.3K)

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie not-quite-slurs. It’s a close thing, though. The glass in his hand is his fourth— no, fifth, and wine always hits him so much harder. He’s bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked and loose-limbed on the couch, pressed so close to Buck he’s half in his lap. Buck’s got a steadying arm around his waist— couldn’t avoid the draw to touch even if he wanted to. “Hm?” Buck asks, feeling a little buzzy himself. “Buck,” Eddie repeats. “You’re bicyc—bisect— bisexual.” Buck laughs at Eddie’s stumble. Smiles bright, proud, and nods. “I am,” he agrees. “Have you ever—” Eddie’s winestained mouth purses; his brow furrows thoughtfully, “— have you ever thought about me?” He sways forward, widens his eyes purposefully, whispers, “Like, y’know.”

white house AU by buddiebuddie | @buddie-buddie [Part 1 & 2]

buck is the president of the united states and eddie is the secret service agent in charge of his security detail. shenanigans ensue.

Ink Flowers Into My Skin by hoveringcat9 | @hoveringcat9 (2025•T•4.7K)

Buck feels adrift, he’s fed up of dating and his search for the right tattoo artist has been fruitless. Luckily Karen has a new friend up to the job and more. For Week 7 of Winter of Buddie - Prompt Floral

kiss me on the mouth and set me free by keiro (2025•E•3.6K)

“It’s alright , it’s alright… I got you,” Eddie whispers on his skin, punctuating the end of the phrase with a kiss. When he speaks again, his voice is a tone lower, words rasping out of his lips. “Eyes on me, Buck.” Buck forces himself to open his eyes, and he’s just in time to see Eddie staring right at him, opening his mouth just a little while he holds his arm. Buck sees the way Eddie’s fangs expand, a gasp stuck on his throat right as they sink into his skin. - Eddie bites Buck, what comes next is a consequence.

He touched me, so I live to know by KejfeBlintz (2025•T•4.1K)

Eddie was jostled as Buck crashed down beside him, drinks in hand. The bar was packed so six of them were jammed in a booth designed for four. Eddie shot a quick apologetic look at Ravi, who had been squashed against the wall with Buck’s ungainly arrival. Buck handed out everyone’s drinks then pushed himself close to Eddie to fit on the bench, elbowing him in the ribs. “Watch it, Buckley,” Eddie groused, elbowing him back. “You watch it, Diaz,” Buck replied, kicking his ankle. “How about you both watch it,” Ravi grumbled as he was shoved against the wall again. “Be easier if there wasn’t a literal giant taking up all this space,” Eddie complained, “dude, when did you get this broad?” “These are lifesaving muscles, Eddie, don’t be a hater.” Or, 5 times Buck and Eddie touched, and one time they really touched.

An Angry Blade by Daisies_and_Briars | @cal-daisies-and-briars (2025•M•43.8K)

Buck finds out that the curse of Billy Boils is VERY real, and far more complicated and dangerous than he could have expected.

H-E-A-T-A/B/O: A Buddie Anthology by Bucksbelly (drarryweasley) | @bucksbelly [WIP] (2025•E•20.9K)

An anthology of Buddie one-shots based in omegaverse settings. These stories are NOT connected; they each have slightly different lore and can be read in any order! Brought to you by I wanted to write my favorite trope but couldn't decide how to do it so I wrote a bunch of them

Pain's like cold water by shadowkatninjawarrior (2024•M•75.2K)

Evan Buckley had lived a lie for sixteen years and it was going just fine. Until the truth started spilling through his fingers. Or, Omega!Buck has been pretending to be an alpha for more than half his life and everything changes when Eddie finds out.

faded from the winter by Daisies_and_Briars | @cal-daisies-and-briars (2025•T•9.9K)

Eddie struggles to bounce back after the shooting. Buck starts leaving him with his service dog, Cranberry.

gravity in between us by charmingqueenie | @alexisrosemullens (2025•T•16.7K)

Eddie’s not used to explaining his relationship with Buck. Everyone in LA just knows what they are. They’re Buck and Eddie. There isn’t one without the other. He knows that he’s been vague about what Buck is to him with his new coworkers. He knows this and yet he can’t stop himself. The first few times were an accident. He doesn’t mean to be vague and what he said could imply platonic. This time though. or Eddie accidentally implies that he's dating Buck to his new team in El Paso.

We're Overdue for a Revival by BespectacledBunny | @bespectacledbunnys (2024•M•60.8K)

“If I had,” Chris lingers on the words, watching Eddie intently through the screen, “If I had conditions?” Eddie feels his stomach knot up. It’s the first time Chris has ever alluded to a willingness to come home. Usually he just shoots Eddie down with a flat “I know” before hurrying off the call. Eddie Diaz will be damned before he lets this chance slip through his hands. “Anything,” his voice rings with desperation in his own ears, “Whatever you need to feel ready to come home. If I can make it happen, I will.” Chris eyes him, young face serious as a judge presiding over trial. An apt comparison because only Chris could condemn or parole Eddie. His fate is in his son’s hands so completely that if he was going to therapy, Frank would probably be concerned. Finally, Chris opens his mouth and says something so earth shattering as to crack the foundations of his father’s mind. “Marry Buck,” Chris says firmly.

cat-astrophic by smilingbuckley | @smilingbuckley (2025•T•5.5K)

Buck falls in love with a kitten. The kitten falls in love with Eddie. (Buck doesn't blame her.) -- It doesn’t take long before a familiar truck approaches. Eddie looks unimpressed as Buck gets into the car, holding the kitten tightly to his chest. “I’m surprised it took you this long to pick up a stray.” Buck snorts, “Well, you picked me first, so.” Eddie shakes his head, starting to drive again. “I didn’t pick you. You just appeared.” “Well, this one just appeared as well,” Buck tells him. “I couldn’t leave it, Eddie. What if a predator eats it?”

What if All I Need is You by serenelystrange | @serenelystrange (2025•GA•2.9K)

“Does Ravi actually think me and Eddie are dating?” “Maybe,” Chim says after a moment of consideration. “Or he’s just really good at fucking with you.” “50/50,” Hen agrees. “Eddie doesn’t even like men,” Buck says with a frown. “I asked.” “Of course you did,” Chim says, dropping his head into his hand with a murmured whisper of Jesus Christ.

oh brother, I see (you burn like me) by canadadry (2024•M•47.9K)

Adriana doesn’t tell their parents that she’s going to LA. She doesn’t tell Eddie, either—or ask, for that matter. She does ask Chris, and he thinks it’s a good idea—says as much, on the phone, and doesn’t say much else. “Buck will probably be hovering,” is what Chris does volunteer. It still surprises her when the man who opens the door is not Eddie. It’s—Captain America, is the thing that actually comes to mind—a man close to a foot taller than she is, if not more than that, with blond curls and broad shoulders, and he’s got a question in his very blue eyes that’s probably less friendly than the one he actually asks her. “Uh,” he says. “Can I help you?” — Or: Adriana arrives in LA. Maddie has been here the whole time.

Don’t hang up on me, cause I’m hung up on you by creatures_that_dont_die | @creatures-that-dont-die (2025•E•5.8K)

“What are you making for dinner?” “I was just going to reheat some leftovers,” Buck says. Eddie makes a noncommittal noise on the other end, sounding almost disappointed. “What, were you hoping I’d make you something?” “No, I—” Eddie hesitates, then sighs. “I sort of wanted to listen to you cook.” The softness in his voice shifts to teasing. “You talk so much while you do it, I figure it’ll fill all the silence here. But I can just watch TV instead, once I figure out how to—” “No, no, I’ll cook something. Only because you asked so nicely. I’ll put you on speaker, okay?” As Buck sorts through Eddie’s fridge, deciding what he can throw together, he and Eddie fall into their usual chatter. When he’s at the stove, facing away from his phone resting on the table, he can almost imagine that Eddie is here with him and not 800 miles away. (Buck and Eddie talk on the phone almost constantly, and one thing leads to another.)

one way out and we're gonna find it by atlasblue85 | @atlasblue85 (2025•T•6.9K)

He just needed a little more time, is what he kept telling himself. A little more time to work through it and he’d be okay, wouldn’t feel like there’s a vice grip over his heart and lungs and the voices of his childhood priests in the back of his head at the thought of being seen in public with a man. There’s tears rolling silently down his cheeks now as Buck cradles him, and he finally manages to whisper, “How’d you do it? Go on a date with a guy, in public?” “Eddie?” Buck’s hands still from where they’ve been rubbing soothing patterns across Eddie’s back. “I don’t– I can’t–” Eddie tries, but he can’t make the words come, and he grips Buck’s shirt tighter instead.

younger than clouds by seachanged | @spacesongs (2025•T•1.1K)

When Buck drifts back awake the sun is about to drop over the horizon, its last light bathing the cabin in buttery pinks and corals. Eddie is leaning against the kitchen island dressed in a pair of boxer briefs that appear to be Buck’s, at least judging by how low they hang on his hips.

check me out and take me home by prioritizelove (2025•GA•1.4K)

“Chris really likes you, you know. One time–” Eddie laughs, “One time I brought him here during the evening, so you weren’t here, and he was literally pouting when we left. Said the librarian at the desk wasn’t as good as his friend Buck and ended up just checking out one of those, uh,” he waves a hand, “wimpy diary books.” Or Buck's a children's librarian and Christopher is his favorite patron. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to seeing Christopher’s dad as well.

Meet Me in the Middle (Underneath a Little Bit of Mistletoe) by Princessfbi | @princessfbi (2022•E•40.2K)

“I’m sorry…” Eddie said, holding his hand out to stop the tumble of words falling from Buck’s lips. “You want to what?” Of all the things he thought Buck wanted to talk about at breakfast, the breakfast Buck had asked Eddie if he wanted to grab at the end of their long shift, this was nowhere near it. “Fake date.” Buck repeated with all the confidence in the world that Eddie didn’t believe for a second because what Buck was proposing was insane. “For the holidays.” aka Buck and Eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays!

Face to my face by EtoileGarden | @etoilegarden (2023•T•46.5K)

“Is your birthmark genetic?” Bobby asked, raising his eyebrow at Buck over the salami he was slicing. “Does it match one of your parents?” Buck spoke through the slice of salami he’d snuck into his mouth. “Nah,” he said. “I’m the first.” “Maybe your kids will have it,” Hen suggested. “If you end up having kids.” “Poor kids,” Chim said, patted Buck on the back. “I can not imagine that was a kind birthmark to wear during school. Kids are mean.” Buck tried to laugh it off. Was filled with the cold memory of his classmates teasing him. He’d managed to bluster his way into popularity as a teenager - once he’d shot up and became broad in all the right places. But before that? “Maddie - my sister - she always said I looked cool,” he said in an attempt at bravado. “I think - I think - I was fine.” Or - another dad!Buck fic because I always love writing baby fics. Eventual Buck/Eddie.

[neospade]

DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love

pairing- Dj!Portgas d. Ace x fem!reader

MODERN AU word count - 5.1k genre - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. smut , explicit sexual content, mild sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, nipple/breast play, drugs mentioned once. synopsis- October's Halloween party interaction with the masked DJ got you crushing, that would make you go to his parties a lil too often just so you could see him, but this time it ended differently. note- this is my first time writing a one shot to begin with, let alone my first time writing smut. This has been a thought of mine since 2021 at least, fully based on Usher ft.Pitbull- DJ got us fallin' in love. I hope my Ace girlies enjoy it. Suggested music: Usher ft. PItbull- DJ got us fallin' in love (ofc); Akcent- My passion; The Weeknd- Sao Paulo + your favourite party songs

So we back in the club

With our bodies rockin' from side to side

The bass thumped through the crowded club, the beat vibrating in your chest as you weaved through the sea of dancing bodies. The neon lights flickered in time with the music, painting the room in flashes of electric blue and hot pink. You weren’t here to dance, though. Not really.

You were here for him.

“Really? Front row again?” your best friend, Nami teased as you both squeezed through the crowd. “You didn’t come for the music yet again, did you?” You rolled your eyes and snickered.

 “What? I just like being close to the action.” you joked, but you could feel Nami’s look on you. That devilish smile she always had on, when she was ready to let out her significant snarky comments. “Sure,” she snorted, nudging you playfully “Close to him, you mean.”

“Shut up!” you hissed unable to cover your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up. You finally reached your reserved spot near the front after what felt like forever. Your friend let out an exaggerated sigh. “All this effort for a view of your future boyfriend, huh?” Nami teased.

 You swatted at her playfully, but your heart raced as you looked up at Ace. The spot gave you a perfect view of him, perched above the crowd on an elevated platform was the DJ, lost in his world of sound. His fingers danced over the mixer, effortlessly blending tracks and controlling the energy of the room. His compression shirt tight on him, highlighting his defined muscles. Headphones on his head, not holding back his messy wavy hair that bounced with every nod of his head, and the most interesting detail of him, the sleek black mask that covered the lower half of his face.

 “Totally worth it,” you whispered, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“Please,” Nami laughed. “The only reason we keep coming to these parties is so you can drool over him. But I won’t complain because he makes such a great atmosphere, I’ll admit it. How long are even gonna continue to do so until you find a way to talk to him?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I don't even know what I'd say.” Nami raised an eyebrow. “How about ‘Hi, I’ve been shamelessly staring at you for weeks now, want to grab coffee?’” You giggled. “Very subtle.”

“Hey, subtle isn’t getting you anywhere,” Nami teased. “Next time, I might just walk up to him and tell him for you.” you just give her a stern look and you both break into a laugh.

Thank God the week is done

I feel like a zombie gone back to life

Back, back to life

 As the crowd pulsed with energy, Ace stood behind the decks, completely in his element.  With every nod of his head and wave of his hand, the crowd responded, lost in his music. His energy was electric, each movement commanding attention, and even from afar, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. For that moment, it felt like the entire room moved to his heartbeat—and so did you.

Turning over at Nami, you notice her staring at you while sipping on her tequila. "What?" You ask her confused.

"Quit glazing. Let’s go out there and have some fun!" Nami grinned, pointing toward the dance floor. "Come on. I’m not letting you just watch all night." You hesitated still not processing her words, but Nami wasn’t having any of it. Without another word, she grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the crowd.

It had been back in October, at that unforgettable Halloween party, when you first saw him—Ace, the DJ who would unknowingly capture your attention from that moment on.

The night had been buzzing with energy, the crisp autumn air clashing with the warmth of too many bodies crammed into the decorated party venue. Fake cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and carved pumpkins flickered with eerie candlelight in the corners. You remembered wandering through the crowd, your ghostface costume slightly askew from weaving through so many people.

Then you heard it—the perfect blend of beats, a smooth transition from one song to the next that pulled you in without you even realizing it. Your eyes were drawn to the DJ booth, perched slightly above the dance floor. And there he was.

Ace stood behind the turntables, completely in his element, effortlessly mixing tracks as if he’d been born to do it. But what caught your attention more than his skill was the mask he wore—a Jason Voorhees hockey mask, cracked and worn, making him look straight out of Friday the 13th. It was both terrifying and intriguing, and you couldn’t look away.

You remembered standing there for what felt like forever, the music vibrating through your chest as you watched him. His head nodded in time with the beat, and every so often, he’d raise his hand, hyping up the crowd without ever saying a word. The anonymity of the mask somehow made him even more captivating. Who was he behind it?

When he finally glanced up from his set, his dark eyes locking with yours through the eye holes of the mask, your breath caught in your throat. It was only for a second, but it stayed with you. The flickering lights, the pulse of the music, and those intense eyes behind a killer’s mask—it was a moment burned into your memory.

After a while, as the party was slowly dying down, and you were weaving through the maze of people heading for the exit, your head slightly fuzzy from the night’s excitement. You weren’t paying much attention, too caught up in your own thoughts, when suddenly, you collided into something—or someone—solid.

Before you could even react, a strong hand gripped your wrist, and another pressed lightly against your waist, steadying you before you could stumble backward. Your breath hitched as you looked up, heart pounding in your chest, only to be met by the blank, chilling stare of a Jason Voorhees mask.

It was him. The DJ.

“Careful there.”

Your mind raced as you tried to process what just happened. His hand was still firm on your wrist, keeping you steady, and you could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of your costume.

“S-Sorry,” you stammered, completely thrown off. His other hand lingered on your waist for a moment longer before letting go, but the sensation stayed with you.

“Nice costume ghostie,” he said, a hint of a smirk in his tone. “Looked good on you.”

The ghostface mask on top of your head. He had noticed it. Before you could even process the unexpected compliment, he straightened up and disappeared into the crowd without another word, leaving you standing there, stunned, with your heart racing faster than the beat of any song that night

The music pulsed through the room, and you and Nami were completely lost in the moment, dancing like no one was watching. The crowd around you swayed and moved, the bass vibrating through the floor beneath your feet. Nami laughed, spinning you playfully before throwing her hands up in the air, her energy contagious.

Hands up, uh

Yeah, suddenly we all got our hands up, uh

No control of my body

But even as you danced, a familiar pull tugged at your attention.

Your eyes flicked toward the DJ booth—toward him. Couldn’t help but stare at him. It was something about him that catches your attention again and again.

“Joe Goldberg , pretty much?” Nami teases,her tone playful. You laughed, shaking your head, but as the two of you danced and lost yourselves in the music again, your gaze still found its way back to Ace. And maybe, just maybe, you caught him glancing your way too.

As the song shifted into another upbeat track, you felt the heat of the crowded dance floor catching up to you. Your breath came a little quicker, and you could feel a light sheen of sweat on your skin from all the dancing.

You leaned in close to Nami, raising your voice over the music. “I need a drink!” Nami grinned, her eyes sparkling under the colorful lights. “Same! Let’s go.”

She grabbed your hand, leading you through the throng of people as you both weaved your way toward the bar. Even as you moved through the crowd, you couldn’t help but sneak one last glance at the DJ booth. Ace was still there, completely focused on his set, but for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he noticed you leaving the dance floor.

Keep downing drinks like there's no tomorrow

There's just right now

You and Nami finally reached the bar, leaning against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. The cool air away from the crowded dance floor was a relief, and you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“What are you having?” Nami asked, still grinning from all the dancing. “Something cold. Surprise me,” you replied, still feeling the beat of the music thrumming in your chest. While Nami flagged down the bartender, your eyes instinctively flicked back to the DJ booth. Ace was still there, effortlessly switching tracks, his fingers gliding over the mixer with precision. His expression was focused, like he knew exactly how much control he had over the room with his music.

You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head at yourself. Get it together, you thought.

“Still looking, huh?” Nami teased, nudging you playfully with her elbow as she handed you a drink. “You’ve got it bad. Suit yourself. But if you keep looking at him like that, he’s bound to notice.”

You took a sip of your drink, hoping the cold liquid would calm the fluttering in your chest. But even as you stood there, trying to play it cool, you felt that familiar pull—the one that kept drawing your gaze back to him. And when your eyes flicked up to the DJ booth again, you froze.

Because this time, Ace was already looking at you.

And he didn’t look away.

Nami noticed immediately, of course. She raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin. “Ohhh, he definitely caught you staring.” You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “So what?” you said, shrugging. “I don’t care if he notices or not. I’ve made up my min-”

“Finally. It was about time, but be careful because you never know who will approach who first” she cuts me off. “Yeah…right…but chill out first.” you answer back nervously taking a sip off your drink again.

As you leaned against the bar, sipping your drink, your mind refused to stay quiet. No matter how much you tried to focus on the music, the crowd, or even Nami’s playful teasing, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Did he really notice me? Or was it just a coincidence? you wondered, biting your bottom lip absentmindedly. And why does it even matter? It’s not like I came here for this, you try to lie to yourself.

You shook your head at yourself, frustrated. You barely knew him, and yet, the memory of that Halloween night still clung to you like a shadow. The way he had steadied you with such ease, the slight compliment he had left hanging in the air as he walked away—it had stuck with you longer than you wanted to admit.

Get it together, you thought. It’s just a crush. Just a moment. Nothing more.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, your mind betrayed you. Every time the bass dropped or the rhythm shifted flawlessly, you thought of him. Every glance toward the DJ booth made your pulse quicken, wondering if he’d look back again, which unfortunately he always did. Every single time he did.

'Cause baby, tonight

The DJ got us falling in love again

---

After what felt like forever the party was dying down and may people had already left. Nami had gone off with some blond guy, who happened to be her co-worker.  Now you found yourself standing alone in your reserved space, the energy from the dance floor a distant hum compared to the whirlwind of thoughts in your head.

The alcohol had started to wear you down, leaving you more tired than tipsy, so you swapped your drink for something lighter—a soda lemon—the cool fizz a relief as it hit your tongue.

You leaned against the small table, the condensation from your glass dripping onto your fingers as you absentmindedly traced patterns on the surface. The party around you carried on, people laughing, dancing, and living in the moment, but you felt like you were somewhere in between—still present, yet lost in your own mind.

The thumping bass vibrated through your chest, but you felt distant, the high from the night’s excitement starting to fade into something quieter. Your body was tired from dancing, and the weight of everything—the memories, the glances, the what-ifs—was settling in.

Meanwhile Ace was still there, focused on his set, and even though you were tucked away in your little corner, you couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed you were gone from the dance floor. Not that it matters, you reminded yourself for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

But still, you lingered.

“Yo,” he drawled, his tone casual but laced with amusement. “Looks like the dance floor wore some of y’all out already.”

A soft chuckle rippled through the crowd, but you barely noticed—because something about the way he said it made your breath catch.

Then, with a slight pause, he added, almost too casually, “Or maybe... some of you were too busy stealing glances to keep me up.”

Your eyes shot up to the DJ booth, heart pounding. Ace stood there, one hand on the mixer, the other holding the mic close to his lips. His gaze lingered on you.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’s about that time.” A collective groan echoed from the crowd, but Ace just chuckled softly into the mic.

“I know, I know,” he teased. “Wish we could go all night too. But let’s wrap this up the right way.” The beat dropped one last time, a perfect blend of energy and finality. The crowd surged with renewed excitement, determined to make the most of the last few moments.

You, however, stood frozen in your little corner, the reality settling in. The night was ending, and with it, the lingering anticipation that had been crackling in the air between you and Ace. As he worked through his final mix, Ace’s voice came through one more time, low and playful.

“Hope y’all had fun tonight... some of you more than others.” you found him already looking your way. That little motherfu-

The crowd had thinned out, the music fading into a soft hum as the night finally came to an end. People gathered their things, laughing and chatting as they headed for the exit. You exhaled softly, still feeling the remnants of the night’s energy buzzing through you. The memory of Ace’s teasing words lingered in your mind, refusing to let go.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure approaching until a voice, smooth and unmistakable, pulled you back to reality.

“Leaving already, ghostie?” You blinked, turning—and there he was.

Ace stood in front of you, close enough for you to catch the faint scent of cologne and a hint of something smoky. His dark hair was a little messier now, a few strands falling over his forehead and finally without a mask on, a signature smirk played on his lips like he knew exactly what effect he had on you. He had remembered you.

“Didn’t think you’d notice, either remember…” you teased, trying to match his energy. Ace chuckled softly, his eyes locking onto yours.

Swear I've seen you before

I think I remember those eyes

 “Hard not to,” he replied smoothly. “You’ve been catching my eye few nights now.”

Your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Guess the feeling’s mutual.”

He tilted his head slightly, amused. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “I figured.”

---

You don’t remember where along the lines of sharing a drink and a joint with Ace and hopping on his motorcycle, you ended up at your door making out with him. The heat between you intensified as his hands gently cupped your face, pulling you closer, while yours found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Every movement felt electric, a mix of urgency and tenderness as you both lost yourselves in the moment. His lips were rough against yours,yet a slow, teasing rhythm that made your heart race. There was something about the way he kissed you—like he was savoring every second of it, as if he wanted to remember it forever, his hand roaming all over your body.

“Find that goddamn key” he says and leans to kiss you again. He tilted his head slightly to allow himself access to deepen the kiss. His tongue ran along your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance. Ace slowly pulled away just enough to look at you. A smirk crept onto his face while keeping his hold firm on your waist, not allowing you to move away. His pupils dilated at the sight of your flustered expression.

You immediately look away and search for the keys in your bag. After finding them you quickly open the door. With a swift motion, Ace lifted you into his arms in a bridal style and carried you inside, then he shut the door behind him with a kick. As soon as the door closed his lips were back on yours in a rough, heated kiss. His tongue immediately demanded access to your mouth. Hands holding onto your waist firmly and slowly walking you backwards until your back is pressed against the wall.

His body pressed against yours, pinning you between himself and the wall while his hands traced along the sides of your body, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your jaw. Ace continued his ministrations, his lips trailing down to your neck, biting and sucking on the sensitive area to leave a mark. One of his hands slowly crept up to intertwine with one of yours while the other began to wander lower to your hip.

“The bedroom is that way” you mention towards its door.  

Ace chuckled against your neck, the sound being muffled as he continued placing kisses over your skin, "As you wish~" He replied before suddenly hauling you up and throwing you over his shoulder. One of his hands gently spanked your buttcheek as he began walking towards the bedroom.

He walks over to the bed before suddenly dropping you down on it with a soft thump. His body was between your legs, the sudden action placing him over you as he hovers his own above you. He looked down at you a cocky smirk on his lips.

"Look at ya … All flustered for me.” He leaned down to nuzzle your neck once again, peppering it with kisses as he spoke. "I could get used to this view…” He moved off you and took off his shirt. His board shoulders, defined biceps and abs at your display. You couldn’t help but stare and touch, your hands now roaming on his body, feeing every muscle of his.

What took you off was the tattoo in his left arm. It was just his name in a colon, with a crossed “S”, which got you wondering who the mysterious “S” could be.

“You like it?” he asks with a smug grin on his face.

“Luv it. What’s the ‘S’ for?” you answer looking directly into his eyes. He chuckles for a moment and turns his head tom the side before facing you again. “This would be the worst moment for me to start talking about my brothers..” he says and you were still staring at him a little confused.

 Before I could even ask him further more Ace leaned back down on you  and started pulling your clothes off, his hands slowly move to the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them one by one in a tantalizing pace like he was unwrapping a present. Ace's gaze was focused on your body as he revealed it to his eyes, tracing the curves with his eyes before his lips began to follow suit. Soft, gentle kisses were peppered across every piece of newly exposed skin. He took his time taking off your top and most importantly, unclasping your bra.

Put your hands on my body

His lips kissing all over the valley of your breasts while one arm wraps around your body and he pops the bra open with one hand. His other hand immediately pulling the bra off so now your chest is exposed for his eyes. He leans to take a nipple in his mouth, licking at it and giving it little bites while his other hand plays with your other breast. You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling oh him playing with your breasts and nipples, giving both of them the same affection.

 ‘’Squishy” he mumbles with a tiddie in his mouth, which made you giggle a little.

Then his hands roamed across your body with a certain confidence and familiarity while he slowly made his way down lower and lower, taking off your bottoms.

Leaving you on your panties only, Ace drops to his knees, hands drawing you towards his awaiting mouth. You watch the way his eyes are fixated  on your core. “Nice panties,” he pulls at the flimsy material “looks like someone planned on getting laid tonight.” Ace teases as he keeps nipping at your inner thigh, your thighs placed on his board shoulders.

“Yeah, and exactly with you” you spat back with a confidence that got washed off you as soon as he slipped your panties to the side.

“So wet” he smirks, his thumb coming in contact with your clit as he spreads your slick around. His other hand pushes your thighs to open more to give him more space, but his shoulder are too damn large-

You hold your breath when Ace moves closer, tongue taking its hirst taste lick that made your toes curl. Ace doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ace-”

You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans. His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation.

you’re also probably sensitive because this is Ace, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up. Ace groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already. When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to. His finger were so skiller, no wonder he is a DJ after all.

“Fuck, Ace-” You want to tell him how close you are to your release, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-” Ace finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.

“Release for me Y/N. Don’t hold back. I want to taste all of you” he says and dives back into you, his mouth fully on you. You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Ace’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.

“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up. Ace reaches for his discarded jeans that were laying on the floor, grabs them and pulls out two condoms from his back pocket.

“And I was the one getting teased for planning this..” you tease him, you legs rubbing against each other to create a little friction as the view in front of you was so tempting. Ace was now  naked, this boner fully hard, his abs looking delicious as he was ripping open the condom plastic wrap with his teeth. Could have asked him to go raw just for the show he was giving you, but you decided to zip it this time.

“You’re okay with this, right pretty?” he asks, needing reassurance from you one last time, and you nod eagerly. He just chuckles at your reaction

He leans down to hover over you once again, your legs wrapping around his waist. One of his hands is around the side of your neck, forcing your face upwards as he captures your lips into a slow but yearning kiss. His other hand his lining himself against your core, teasing you buy rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your slit. Whimpering from the feelings, his mouth swallowed every single one of your noises. After teasing for what felt like forever, he finally pushes himself in.

“So tight-“ he groans from the feeling, while pushing his cock fully into your hole. He felt so big, making you feel full. It took you a little to get used to him. “No one has fucked this pussy in so long, right baby..” such a talkative teasing man, but two can play this game.

“Been waiting for someone to fill it good” you say, which caught him off guard but it was enough to make him go. He started properly thrusting into you, his moves not so fast, but pounding, and hitting all the right places. It felt so good that it made you want to turn your head backward but Ace’s hand that was holding your head firm stopped you from doing so.

“Feeling yourself already Y/N?’’ he whispers , nibbling on your ear. This felt too intimate. Ace’s lips lingering from your skin behind your ear to your neck, giving it little bites that will most likely leave hickeys tomorrow, but you’re not complaining.

‘’It feels so good-  fuck” out moan out to the feeling on his thrusts. The way your walls sucked him in drove the two of you crazy. You felt the way his vein pulsed within you that it made you clench down onto him. Ace swore under his breath at the tight feeling you were creating around his pulsing length. “Fuck — keep clenching me like that angel and I'm not gonna last long for you.” Ace said as he held onto your hips tightly.

Incoherent words fall from your lips as you savored the delicious feeling of Ace’s cock gliding in and out of your sopping entrance. Ace traced his free hand up from its place on your hips and brought it to the front of your chest. Ace takes one of your breasts and places it into his hand, giving it a squeeze causing the two of you to moan. Ace takes one of your hardened nipples between his fingertips and pinches it. 

Moan, after moan leaves your lips as the sensations he is giving you. Behind the noise of your moans, you could hear the sound of skin slapping against one another and the squelching sounds coming out from your entrance. “Look at me as I fuck this pretty pussy of your angel.” He speaks roughly as he continues to plough into you. “Look at how. You. Take. It.” Ace emphasizes with each hard thrust into you.  You were so fucking

close, and his cocky attitude wasn’t making it better. He turned you on so much. Ace snaked his hand away from your breast and down to your front. His fingertips started to press down onto your clit and moving them side to side, causing you to moan out loudly. 

The repetitive sensation of Ace hitting your spot within your walls makes you see double the stars than before. “I’m gon—” Without warning you started to come around Ace’s length. You felt your body shiver at how intense the orgasm was. Your legs started to shake as you started to feel the overstimulation take its course considering that he had already made you cum once.

“That’s my good girl” he groans, feeling you clenching around him. “Come for me again baby” he says and captures your lips into an eager kiss. After a few more thrusts, strings of curses left Ace’s lips as his stomach clenched and thighs shake slightly as he let go inside of the condom completely.

As the two of you rode out your highs together, the weight of the situation between the two of you started to settle within the two of you. As Ace pulled himself out, cleaning you and throwing the used condom in the bin in the process, a deathifying silence fell. He fell lip next to you, and leaned on your arm to keep looking at you. You weren’t sure how to approach the topic. Do you say this was a one-time thing or are you guys actually together now? 

Noticing the way that  you were staring at him, he kind of figured out what you were thinking. He started laughing which made you feel uncomfortable at this point.

“What’s so funny?” you ask with a stern look on your face.

“Stop overthinking this. Instead fall asleep as I’m taking you out when you will wake up tomorrow.” He says and wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him, your back on his chest as he snuggles into your neck.

“Good. You got me worried for a second” you giggle “Good night deejay”. It was worthless waiting for his answer as he was already asleep. Kind of suspicious how fast he fell asleep so quicky but not much of a big deal at the moment, as sleep took you also.

'Cause baby, tonight

The DJ got us falling in love

author rights go all to @neospade

[oeuvrinarydurian]

So, a couple of us were reworking season seven. It wasn’t working for everyone for a number of reasons, so we pressed pause on it, and I’ve been wanting to return to it in a very specific way with the help of @too-antigonish, but my schedule is really intense from September to about March and I just haven’t had the bandwidth.

I’ll tackle it again in the spring, but in the meantime, @jessieren reposting this reminded me of a little moment that I had written that I quite like that goes along with this very scene. Reposting just to blow off the dust. I’ve really missed you guys, and I really miss how creative being part of this cult community makes me. 

It starts at the beginning of the doorway scene, just after they leave the basement and Thursday says the line about “a hunch.”

Morse felt a little lost without Thursday at his side. He followed Thursday to the doorway and stood next to him. Despite their rupture, there was something about the older man’s physical presence that was solid and reassuring. He needed to tie himself back to earth.

“What was it brought you here?

Morse looked away. He didn’t have the energy for this. “You don't want to know. Strange'll tell you.

Thursday didn’t know what to say. It felt wrong to say nothing when Morse could have been killed, but the easy kinship they had always shared was in ruins and he couldn’t think of a thing.

“When do you start at Kidlington?

“New year. Fourth of Jan. Like you said, it's for the best.”

Shame kept him mute to anything more. He’d chased a dream-life and left the real life he’d worked years for in tatters. He had traded grey reality for vivid, liquid, scarlet-coloured fantasy that turned out to be a lie, after all. There was nothing to say.

Thursday walked away from Morse towards Siddle who was waiting for him at the car.

Thursday nodded at his new bagman. “Siddle.”

Thursday and Siddle got into the car. Morse didn’t take his eyes off the mundane movements of Thursday reaching for the handle, removing his hat and lifting the bottom of his overcoat to keep it from catching in the door. Every motion the old man made was practised, was routine, was the rhythm of a thousand times before, with him, the Morse before Venice.

In his mind, he heard the little sound of the brush of Thursday’s coat as it slid onto the leather seat of the Jaguar, the slight scrape of his shoes as they rested on the car floor, the heavy, reassuring slam of the Jaguar door as he settled himself in the seat, and the whispery plop of the hat landing on his lap as Morse would start the ignition and take them on their way.

Thunder punctuated his dreamlike trance, jarring him back to now, and the everpresent rain began once again. He stared at the vanishing tail lights of the car carrying Thursday away until he couldn’t see them any longer, and then went to head inside, but as he walked back into the house, he couldn’t help turning and looking over his shoulder one last time.

There was nothing but darkness.

When do you start at Kidlington?

The New Year, 4th of Jan.  Like you said, it’s for the best.

[duachai]

Till' The World Ends - PARK CHANYEONG | SWEET HOME

In the midst of a monstrous apocalypse, former idol M/n is rescued by the military and brought to a safe base where protector Park Chanyeong takes him under his wing.

Your soul's half alive, and I'll be by your side, I've come to take you there, show you how to care

♱ PAIRING : PARK CHANYEONG (JUNG JINYOUNG) X MALE READER ♱ CONTENT WARNING : Slightly detailed gore, SPOLIERS (I guess?) ♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : I want to note I've only seen season 1-2 of this show, so I'm quite behind so if this makes no sense contextually that's why lol. ♱ REQUESTED : YES (ANON) - Can you pleaseseee write something for Private Park Chan-young from Sweet Home? Maybe something like male reader gets picked up off the street and becomes one of the soldiers along side of him and there's this big fight with the monsters and he confesses his love. Maybe also reader was and idol too. Thank you!!

LINKS : Wattpad

The air outside was heavy, thick with the stench of blood and decay. M/n stumbled through the wreckage, his breaths ragged as he tried to keep moving. His jacket was torn, caked in grime, and he clutched a makeshift weapon; a rusted pipe he’d picked up days ago. The world had long since crumbled into chaos, but M/n had refused to let it break him. Determined, but weary, he fought to keep going. 

The faint roar of an engine in the distance made him freeze. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned, squinting against the setting sun. A military vehicle approached, its headlights cutting through the haze. For a moment, hope flickered in his chest; a dangerous, fragile thing. M/n raised his hands, signaling for them to stop. He wasn’t sure if they’d help or just run him over, but he didn’t have much of a choice. 

The vehicle came to a halt. Soldiers spilled out, their weapons drawn, faces hardened. One of them barked, “Stay where you are! Hands where we can see them!” 

“I’m not infected!” M/n shouted, his voice hoarse. He dropped the pipe and raised his hands higher. “I swear, I’m clean!” 

The soldiers exchanged glances, their expressions skeptical. One of them, a tall man with a scar running down his jaw, muttered, “We can’t take risks. We’re stretched too thin as it is.” 

“Please,” M/n pleaded, his voice cracking. “I’ve been out here for weeks. I just- please, don’t leave me out here.” 

The scarred soldier scoffed, gesturing to the others. “We don’t have room for strays. Move out.” 

Before they could pile back into the vehicle, another voice cut through the tension; calm, but commanding. “Wait.” 

M/n turned to see him. Park Chanyeong stepped out of the vehicle, his expression unreadable. There was something in the way he carried himself; strong, deliberate, that made the others hesitate. 

“He’s not infected,” Chanyeong said firmly, his sharp eyes studying M/n. “Look at him. No signs of transformation, no erratic behavior.” 

The scarred soldier frowned. “That doesn’t mean he’s not a liability. We can’t afford-” 

“We can’t afford to lose more people, either,” Chanyeong interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “He’s a survivor. That counts for something.” 

M/n’s knees nearly gave out as relief washed over him. But the others weren’t convinced. “And what happens if he turns on us later?” one of the soldiers argued. “It’ll be on you.” 

“It’ll be on me,” Chanyeong replied coldly. “I’ll take responsibility.” 

The soldiers grumbled but didn’t push further. Chanyeong stepped closer, his gaze locking with M/n’s. “Get in the vehicle,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’ll be safe.” 

M/n hesitated for a heartbeat, as if waiting for someone to change their mind. But when no one did, he nodded and climbed into the back of the vehicle. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the seat, his heart still racing. 

Chanyeong joined him a moment later, sitting across from him. For a while, the vehicle was silent, save for the rumble of the engine and the distant cries of monsters in the wasteland. M/n dared to glance up, meeting Chanyeong’s steady gaze. 

“Thank you,” M/n whispered, his voice barely audible. 

Chanyeong gave a small nod, his expression as stoic as ever. “Don’t thank me yet.” 

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but for the first time in weeks, M/n felt a flicker of hope. He wasn’t alone anymore. 

The vehicle slowed as it reached the underground safe zone. The heavy steel gates creaked open, revealing a dimly lit corridor bustling with survivors. Soldiers on patrol watched with wary eyes, their hands resting on their weapons. The air was tense; too many people, too much fear, and too little space. 

M/n stepped out of the vehicle, his legs unsteady from both exhaustion and anxiety. As he followed Chanyeong through the narrow passage, he felt it; the weight of dozens of eyes on him. Whispers spread like wildfire. 

“Is that him?” 

“No way. He’s still alive?”    “He was there… the apartment complex.” 

M/n kept his gaze fixed on the ground, his jaw clenched. The memories of what happened at Green Home; the screams, the betrayal, the monsters; flashed through his mind. He didn’t want to remember. Not here. Not now. 

A small group of survivors gathered near the entrance, openly staring. One of them, a woman with dark circles under her eyes, took a hesitant step forward. “You were… an idol, weren’t you?” 

M/n didn’t answer, but the silence spoke for him. The woman’s expression hardened. “You ran, didn’t you? Back when things went to hell.” 

“I did what I had to,” M/n said quietly, his voice steady despite the weight of the accusation. 

Before anyone could say more, Chanyeong stepped between them, his presence like a wall. “That’s enough,” he said. His tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it. “He’s here now. That’s all that matters.” 

The crowd slowly dispersed, muttering under their breath. Chanyeong turned back to M/n. “Come on. You need rest.” 

They walked in silence until they reached a small, dimly lit room near the edge of the safe zone. Chanyeong opened the door and gestured for M/n to enter. It wasn’t much; just a cot, a chair, and a few supplies, but it was a haven compared to the outside world. 

M/n sat on the edge of the cot, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’m wanted here.” 

“They’re scared,” Chanyeong replied, leaning against the doorframe. “Fear makes people lash out.” 

“You’re not making second guessed about me?” 

Chanyeong’s lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “No.” 

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. M/n looked up, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Why’d you stand up for me out there? You didn’t have to.” 

Chanyeong’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “Because I know what it’s like to have people give up on you.” 

M/n tilted his head. “You mean before all this?” 

Chanyeong nodded, resting against the door frame. “I played baseball. Before the world ended, it was my life. But I made mistakes. Got injured. People stopped believing in me. Said I wasn’t worth the trouble.” He paused, as if weighing his next words. “I didn’t want to do the same to you.” 

M/n’s chest tightened. He’d spent so long feeling like a burden, like the world would be better off without him. But Chanyeong didn’t see him that way. 

“I used to be an idol,” M/n admitted quietly. “I loved it; performing, being on stage. But when things got bad at Green Home, all that didn’t matter. All people saw was someone who couldn’t protect anyone.” 

Chanyeong studied him for a long moment. “You survived. That’s enough.” 

M/n swallowed hard, emotion threatening to choke him. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like it.” 

Chanyeong stepped closer, his expression as steady as ever. “Then stay alive. Long enough to figure out what it does feel like.” 

The words weren’t comforting in the traditional sense, but somehow, they settled something deep in M/n’s chest. 

“I’ll try,” M/n said, meeting Chanyeong’s eyes. 

“Good.” Chanyeong gave a small nod. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.” 

The underground safe zone was a far cry from the life M/n once knew. The constant hum of generators, the flickering fluorescent lights, and the steady patrols of soldiers made the air feel tense and suffocating. Every day was a battle to maintain order amidst the fear of what lurked beyond the gates. 

For M/n, blending in wasn’t easy. The other survivors kept their distance, some out of fear, others because of lingering resentment. But he forced himself to adapt. He helped with chores, cleaned communal areas, and volunteered for supply runs; anything to prove he wasn’t just a burden. 

One morning, M/n found himself summoned to the central training area; a wide, open space lined with sandbags and obstacle courses. The air smelled of sweat and metal. A group of soldiers stood waiting, their uniforms crisp and their expressions unreadable. 

Chanyeong was there too, his arms crossed as he watched from a distance. M/n’s heart rate spiked, but he didn’t let it show. 

The scarred soldier from before, now identified as Lieutenant Kim, stepped forward. “You’ve been here long enough to catch your breath. Now it’s time to see if you can actually contribute.” His tone was clipped, full of skepticism. 

“What do you mean?” M/n asked, though he already had a sinking suspicion. 

“We’re short on fighters. If you’re going to stay, you need to be more than just a survivor. We need soldiers. Fighters who can defend this place if the monsters breach the gates again.” 

M/n’s fists clenched at his sides. “And if I fail?” 

“Then you’re just another mouth to feed.” 

Chanyeong’s gaze darkened, but he stayed silent. 

The first test was simple; a physical evaluation. M/n had to run laps around the training area, climb walls, and navigate through an obstacle course designed to simulate urban terrain. Sweat dripped down his face, his muscles screaming in protest. 

By the time he finished, his lungs burned, and his legs felt like lead. But he hadn’t stopped. He’d refused to quit. 

Lieutenant Kim gave a curt nod. “You’re determined. I’ll give you that.” 

The second test was combat. M/n was handed a dull training knife and pitted against a soldier twice his size. The fight was brutal; every swing and jab testing M/n’s reflexes. He dodged as best he could, but his opponent’s strength was overwhelming. He hit the ground more than once, his knees scraped and bloodied. 

“Enough,” Chanyeong’s voice cut through the tension. He walked over, his expression neutral but his eyes burning with something M/n couldn’t quite name. “You’re not training him to get beaten. You’re training him to survive.” 

Lieutenant Kim scowled but didn’t argue. “Fine. You take over, Park.” 

Chanyeong tossed M/n a water bottle before taking his place in the sparring ring. “Get up,” he said quietly. “Again.” 

M/n wiped the sweat from his brow and forced himself to his feet. His body protested every movement, but he wasn’t about to back down; not with Chanyeong watching. 

They squared off. Chanyeong’s movements were deliberate, precise. He didn’t go easy on M/n, but he also didn’t aim to break him. With every step and swing, he pushed M/n to find his limits and then push past them. 

By the end of the session, M/n was panting, bruised, and exhausted. But there was a spark of pride in his chest. 

“You did well,” Chanyeong said, offering a hand to help him up. 

M/n took it, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me,” Chanyeong replied. “You earned it.” 

Lieutenant Kim gave one last, assessing look before turning on his heel. “We’ll see if you can keep it up.” 

As the soldiers dispersed, M/n stayed behind with Chanyeong. The ache in his muscles was sharp, but there was something else; an odd sense of belonging.  

The underground gates groaned open, revealing the desolate wasteland beyond. The world outside the safe zone was eerily silent, the air thick with the stench of decay and abandonment. Concrete rubble and twisted metal were strewn across the landscape, remnants of humanity’s fall. 

Chanyeong led the group of soldiers, M/n walking beside him. It was M/n’s first mission outside, and the weight of anticipation hung heavy over him. He could feel the judgmental eyes of the other soldiers drilling into his back. 

“Don’t slow us down,” one soldier muttered under his breath. “He should’ve stayed underground where it’s safe.” 

Another snickered. “He’s not cut out for this. Idol or not, he’ll get someone killed.” 

M/n’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze forward. His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. Chanyeong shot the soldiers a warning glare, but M/n shook his head. “Let them talk.” 

The group pressed on through the ruins, their boots crunching against broken glass and gravel. They were scavenging for supplies; a routine mission but one that could turn deadly in an instant. 

They hadn’t gone far when the first sound came; a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down everyone’s spines. 

“Contact!” Lieutenant Kim barked. 

A monster emerged from the shadows of a crumbling building. Its skin was pale and cracked, its eyes hollow but filled with a ravenous hunger. It lunged with terrifying speed. 

The soldiers scattered, weapons raised. Gunfire erupted, but the monster was fast; too fast. It zigzagged between them, slashing with razor-sharp claws. 

“M/n, move!” Chanyeong shouted as the creature charged straight for him. 

Time seemed to slow. M/n’s heart thundered in his chest. The soldiers’ words echoed in his mind. Weak. A burden. Not good enough. 

No. 

M/n surged forward, a primal fury igniting inside him. He grabbed a broken pipe from the ground and swung with all his strength. The metal connected with a sickening crunch, sending the monster staggering backward. 

It roared, blood dripping from its mouth, but M/n didn’t stop. He attacked again, driving the pipe into the creature’s side. His strikes became relentless, each blow fueled by anger and desperation. 

The monster fell to its knees, but M/n kept going, the world around him blurring into a haze of adrenaline and rage. Every fear, every insult; it all exploded in that moment. 

“Enough!” 

Chanyeong’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. 

M/n froze, panting. His hands trembled, the blood-slicked pipe slipping from his grasp. The monster lay still, its body broken and lifeless. 

And then it hit him. 

He had killed it. 

The world tilted. M/n staggered back, his vision swimming. His stomach churned violently, and he collapsed to his hands and knees, retching onto the cracked pavement. 

Chanyeong was at his side in an instant, dropping to a crouch. He placed a steadying hand on M/n’s back, his touch firm but gentle. “Breathe, M/n. You’re safe now. Just breathe.” 

“I-” M/n’s voice cracked. “I killed it. I didn’t mean to-” 

“You did what you had to,” Chanyeong interrupted softly. “It was you or the monster.” 

But M/n couldn’t stop shaking. His hands were stained with blood; proof that he wasn’t the same person who had stepped outside those gates. 

“It’s different out here,” he whispered. “I thought I was ready. But I’m not.” 

Chanyeong knelt in front of him, their faces inches apart. His usual stoic mask had slipped, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “No one’s ever ready the first time. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.” 

M/n’s breath hitched. He wanted to believe Chanyeong, but the weight of what he’d done felt suffocating. 

Chanyeong reached out, wiping a streak of blood from M/n’s cheek. “Look at me.” 

M/n’s eyes slowly met his. 

“You’re alive,” Chanyeong said firmly. “You fought back because you wanted to protect us. That’s what matters.” 

For a long moment, they stayed like that; M/n sitting chin to his knees on the broken ground, Chanyeong steadying him. The chaos of the world faded into the background, leaving only the quiet connection between them. 

“Ypu’re not alone,” Chanyeong promised. “Not now. Not ever.” 

M/n swallowed hard, the knot in his chest loosening just a little. “Thank you.” 

Chanyeong helped him to his feet, his grip never faltering. The other soldiers approached, their expressions a mixture of surprise and respect. 

“Maybe you’re not all useless,” one of them admitted grudgingly. 

M/n didn’t respond, but he held his head a little higher as they made their way back to the safe zone. 

M/n leaned against the wall of the underground compound, his arms folded across his chest. The dim lighting overhead cast shadows on the rough concrete, and the air smelled faintly of metal and disinfectant. He had just returned from the mission with Chanyeong, his mind still replaying the moment he killed the monster. His hands were clean now, but he couldn’t stop seeing the blood in his mind’s eye. 

“Hey.” 

The voice pulled him from his thoughts. M/n looked up to see Jung Ye-seul standing a few feet away. She was one of the few civilians allowed to move around freely within the safe zone, her resourcefulness and sharp mind earning her respect among both the survivors and military personnel. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her sharp eyes locked onto M/n with a mix of curiosity and something harder to read. 

“You’re the one they found outside,” she said, her tone neutral but guarded. 

“Yeah. That’s me.” M/n’s voice was flat. 

She took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. “You were on the mission with Chanyeong earlier. I heard what happened.” 

M/n nodded slowly. “Word travels fast down here.” 

Ye-seul crossed her arms, mirroring his stance. “You saved him.” 

“I did.” 

There was a beat of silence. 

“I guess I should say thank you,” she said, but there was no warmth in her voice. 

M/n raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound very grateful.” 

“I am.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “But I also know what happens when people get close to Chanyeong. They start thinking they can rely on him too much. They make him a crutch. And Chanyeong’s already carrying enough on his shoulders.” 

M/n felt a flare of irritation. “I’m not a burden to him.” 

Ye-seul’s gaze sharpened. “Are you sure about that? He’s always been the protector. It’s who he is. People lean on him, and he never says no. But that doesn’t mean it’s good for him.” 

“I didn’t ask him to protect me,” M/n shot back. “In case you missed it, I’m the one who saved him today.” 

Ye-seul’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t change anything. You’re still someone he cares about now. And that means you’re a risk.” 

M/n felt a pang of guilt, but he pushed it aside. “I didn’t choose to care about him. It just happened. And I’m not going to walk away because you think I should.” 

Ye-seul’s expression flickered with something—pain, maybe, or jealousy. “Chanyeong doesn’t let people in easily. If you hurt him…” 

“I won’t,” M/n interrupted, his voice firm. 

For a moment, they just stared at each other, two stubborn forces unwilling to back down. 

Finally, Ye-seul sighed. “I hope you’re right. For both your sakes.” 

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving M/n standing alone in the dim corridor. 

M/n exhaled slowly, his heart pounding. He didn’t know what the future held for him or for Chanyeong, but one thing was certain; he wasn’t going to let anyone push him away from the person who had become his anchor in this chaotic world. 

The mission had been simple; retrieve medical supplies from an abandoned hospital a few miles from the safe zone. The military had cleared the building once before, but the monsters were unpredictable, and the place was still a danger zone. 

Despite the risks, M/n had volunteered to go. He was determined to prove himself again; not just to the others, but to himself. And in the days since the last mission, things had been better. The soldiers who had once mocked him now showed respect, their gazes lingering with a newfound acknowledgment. Even Yeseul had kept her distance, a quiet truce settling between them. 

Chanyeong had insisted on coming along. His ever-stoic demeanor gave M/n strength, an unspoken promise of protection. They moved together like a machine, sweeping the darkened hospital halls with precision and efficiency. 

But nothing ever went according to plan. 

They had just reached the hospital’s old surgical ward when the air shifted; a low, guttural growl that sent shivers racing down their spines. 

“Get ready,” Chanyeong muttered, gripping his weapon on his hip tightly. 

The monster exploded from the shadows, its pale, sinewy form illuminated by the flickering overhead lights. It was larger than anything they had faced before, its limbs unnaturally long and its teeth razor-sharp. 

Chaos erupted. 

M/n swung his weapon, the metallic pipe connecting with the monster’s ribs. The creature roared in pain but didn’t go down. It lashed out, its claws narrowly missing M/n’s face. 

“Fall back!” Chanyeong barked. 

They moved in sync, dodging the creature’s attacks as they retreated down the hall. But the monster was relentless. It lunged again, forcing them into the surgical ward; a sterile, cold room with no exit. 

Chanyeong’s eyes darted around, calculating their next move. The monster was blocking the only doorway, and it was too fast to take down easily. 

“We’re out of options,” M/n panted, adrenaline coursing through him. 

Chanyeong’s gaze softened for a brief moment. “Trust me.” 

Before M/n could respond, Chanyeong surged forward. He slammed the emergency door controls, and the steel door hissed shut, trapping M/n on the outside and locking Chanyeong inside with the monster. 

“Chanyeong!” M/n shouted, pounding on the glass window that separated them. 

The monster roared and charged. 

Chanyeong didn’t flinch. He met the creature head-on, his movements precise and deadly. He dodged its swipes and struck with brutal efficiency, his fists and blade a blur of motion. Blood sprayed across the white walls, staining the sterile room with crimson. 

M/n watched in horror, his fists clenched so tightly they ached. The glass barrier felt like a prison. Every instinct screamed at him to break through, to help, but there was no way in. 

The fight raged on, and Chanyeong was relentless; but so was the monster. It struck him hard, sending him crashing into a surgical table. The force knocked the breath from him, and for a terrifying moment, he didn’t move. 

“No!” M/n shouted, his voice raw with desperation. 

The monster loomed over Chanyeong, ready to deliver the final blow. 

Then, with a burst of strength, Chanyeong drove his blade into the creature’s throat. It let out a choked howl, its body convulsing before collapsing to the floor. 

Silence fell. 

M/n’s breath hitched as he saw Chanyeong slump against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Chanyeong!” He banged on the glass again, tears stinging his eyes. “Stay awake!” 

Chanyeong’s eyes barely opened. His voice was weak, but his gaze found M/n’s through the glass. 

“I-” He coughed, blood flecking his lips. “I think I... love you.” 

The words hit M/n like a lightning strike. 

“No, no, you don’t get to say that now!” M/n’s voice cracked. “You’re not dying. You hear me? You’re not dying!” 

But Chanyeong’s eyes closed, and his body went still. 

“Chanyeong!” M/n’s scream echoed down the empty hallway. 

Frantic, M/n slammed his shoulder against the door controls until they gave way, the steel door sliding open with a hiss. He rushed to Chanyeong’s side, his hands trembling as he checked for a pulse. 

It was faint, but it was there. 

Relief flooded M/n, and he let out a shaky breath. He tore a strip of fabric from his sleeve and pressed it against Chanyeong’s wounds, his hands steady despite the chaos still swirling in his mind. 

“I think I love you too,” M/n whispered, his voice breaking. “So don’t leave me.” 

Chanyeong didn’t respond, but M/n felt the faintest squeeze of his hand. It was enough. 

M/n’s muscles screamed in protest with every step, but he didn’t stop. Chanyeong’s unconscious weight rested on his back, his arms draped over M/n’s shoulders and head leaning against his neck. Blood soaked M/n’s shirt, both Chanyeong’s and his own from cuts and scrapes. The road back to the base was long and treacherous, every shadow a potential threat. But M/n’s mind was fixed on one goal; getting Chanyeong back alive. 

When the base finally came into view, M/n’s legs nearly gave out from exhaustion. A group of soldiers rushed forward, weapons raised until they saw who it was. 

“Help him!” M/n’s voice cracked as he knelt, lowering Chanyeong onto a stretcher the medics had brought. He stumbled to his feet, covered in dirt and blood, as the medics took Chanyeong inside the makeshift medical ward. 

But the moment of relief was short-lived. 

“Why are you the one walking around fine?” one soldier sneered, stepping forward. “Chanyeong’s the best we’ve got, and now he’s half-dead.” 

Another soldier scowled. “You were supposed to have his back. Instead, you let him get locked in with a monster.” 

The accusations hit M/n like a punch to the gut. His fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t defend himself. He couldn’t. The truth was, he felt the same crushing guilt. Chanyeong had saved him; again and now Chanyeong was paying the price. 

“Enough!” Yeseul’s sharp voice cut through the crowd. She stepped between M/n and the soldiers, her glare fierce. “Blaming him won’t help Chanyeong. And if you’re so concerned, why aren’t you in there helping the medics?” 

The soldiers muttered under their breath but backed off. 

Yeseul turned to M/n, her expression softening. “Go inside. He’s going to need you.” 

M/n nodded, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, but his feet carried him forward. 

The makeshift ward was a bleak, sterile space. Cots lined the walls, and the air was filled with the acrid scent of antiseptic. Chanyeong laid on the closest cot, pale and still, an IV drip hooked to his arm. Bandages covered his torso, and his breathing was shallow but steady. 

M/n sank into the chair beside the cot, his body sagging with weariness. He hadn’t realized just how heavy his grief and fear had been until now. 

“I’m here,” he whispered, reaching for Chanyeong’s hand. It was cold to the touch. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

The hours blurred into days. M/n never left the ward. He barely slept, catching fitful naps in the chair. He hardly ate, ignoring the rations Yeseul and a few other soldiers brought him. Every time Chanyeong’s breathing hitched or his body twitched, M/n was there, his heart racing with hope. But Chanyeong never woke. 

The medics warned him to take care of himself, but M/n didn’t listen. Guilt gnawed at his insides like a parasite, and every second spent away from Chanyeong felt like a betrayal. 

On the third night, M/n sat in the dim light of the ward, his head resting on the edge of the cot. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his body trembled with exhaustion. 

“I should have protected you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I should have done more.” 

A tear slipped down his cheek, falling onto Chanyeong’s hand. 

“Please,” M/n whispered. “Come back.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. But then; a faint twitch. M/n’s head shot up, hope lighting his eyes. Chanyeong’s fingers twitched again, and his eyelids fluttered. 

“Chanyeong?” M/n leaned forward, his heart pounding. 

Slowly, painfully, Chanyeong’s eyes opened. They were clouded with confusion at first, but when they locked onto M/n’s face, recognition dawned. 

“M/n...” Chanyeong’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was the most beautiful sound M/n had ever heard. 

“You’re awake.” M/n choked on a sob, gripping Chanyeong’s hand tightly. “You’re awake.” 

Chanyeong’s lips curved into a weak smile. “I told you... I’m not going anywhere.” 

M/n pressed his forehead to Chanyeong’s hand, the weight on his chest finally lifting. 

M/n couldn’t let go of Chanyeong’s hand, not even for a second. His heart was still pounding from the overwhelming relief of seeing him awake. Every rise and fall of Chanyeong’s chest felt like a victory, fragile but real. 

“You need rest,” Chanyeong murmured, though his voice was weak. “You’re worse off than me.” 

M/n let out a short, tired laugh. “You’re the one in the hospital bed.” 

“And you’re the one who hasn’t slept or eaten in days. I can tell.” Chanyeong shifted slightly, wincing from the movement. “C'mere.” 

M/n hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Chanyeong said, his gaze soft but insistent. “Please.” 

The vulnerability in Chanyeong’s eyes was rare, and it was enough to make M/n’s resolve crumble. Slowly, he climbed onto the cot, careful not to jostle him too much. The cot was narrow, forcing them close, and M/n lay on his side, his face only inches from Chanyeong’s. 

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. The dim light of the ward softened the harsh edges of the room, and the world outside felt far away; nothing but the two of them, suspended in this fragile, stolen moment. 

“I thought I lost you,” M/n admitted, his voice trembling. “I’ve never been so scared for anyone before.” 

Chanyeong’s fingers tightened around M/n’s. “I’m still here.” 

M/n swallowed hard. “I know... but seeing you like that, I-” 

Chanyeong reached out, his fingers brushing against M/n’s cheek. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver through M/n’s entire body. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Chanyeong said quietly. “But I meant what I said. I love you.” 

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. M/n’s breath hitched. He could see the truth of it in Chanyeong’s eyes; there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. 

“I love you, too,” M/n whispered. The weight of everything; the fear, the guilt, the uncertainty, dissolved in that moment. 

Chanyeong’s hand slid to the back of M/n’s neck, and M/n leaned in without thinking. Their lips met, tentative at first, but the kiss quickly deepened. It was desperate and full of emotion; a kiss born from the fear of almost losing each other and the joy of finding one another again. 

M/n’s fingers curled into Chanyeong’s cut up shirt, holding him close. Their breath mingled, and the world outside the ward melted away. 

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together. M/n’s heart was racing, but it was no longer from fear. 

“We’ll get through this,” Chanyeong said softly, his thumb brushing over M/n’s cheek. “Together.” 

M/n nodded, tears glistening in his eyes but a smile tugging at his lips. “Together.” 

[rosiesgambit]

Wie schön, dass du geboren bist || michael kaiser/reader

summary; you were nothing but a constant mockery, tormenting him. he hated you more than anything, and the fact that he was nothing but entertainment to you, made it somehow even worse. Or: Michael Kaiser gets a birthday present.

tags; sfw, psychological, character study, reader is about as mentally stable and nice as Kaiser is, they match each others freak

author’s note; hiya! first time writing and posting anything on here! been sucked back into blue lock among other things and I do have some stuff saved up! This is but one instalment with this particular reader, with more to come!

->the title and story itself is inspired by a german happy birthday song, roughly translating to “how beautiful that you were born, otherwise we would have missed you very much”

“What the fuck is this supposed to be?”, Kaiser asked, clutching the poorly wrapped package between his hands, an annoyed look in his eyes.

“Try thinking about it, I know it’s hard for you”, you cooed, shaking your head as you rested your hands on your hips, “It’s a present duh.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t. I don’t need your pity.”

“When have I ever done anything for anyone out of pity?”

That was true actually. You weren’t exactly the easiest person to get along with, even if it was rich coming from him.

You were truly an enigma Kaiser could not quite wrap his head around. Psychologists would have a field day with you no doubt.

“You only get one though. Sucks you are born the day after Christmas. Don’t worry though, I made sure it’s more to accommodate for it.”

Kaiser held the box in his hands. It was light, wrapped in obnoxious green Christmas paper, a red bow adorning the package. The exterior seemed to be put together to the best of your abilities which… wasn’t a lot it seemed.

He looked back at you. He was almost expecting an anticipated look in your eyes, hoping he would unpack the gift, as you had dubbed it, but your face was unreadable and your smile as unnerving as always. There was something about the way you never acted quite how he thought you would that unsettled him deeply.

“I am not opening this”, Kaiser said, waving the present dismissively.

“I know. I am not asking you to open it.”

Your response only further cemented his lacklustre opinion of you.

“What the fuck is this even supposed to mean?”, Kaiser sighed, feeling a headache forming.

“It’s a philosophy I follow”, you explained, “whether you follow along with it is irrelevant.”

“So you are doing this for yourself?”

“Yes.”

“How selfish.”

“Absolutely.”

It was silent for a moment as Kaiser turned the present in his fingers.

“You want to know”, you pointed out, the grin on your lips widening.

“I don’t care.”

“You do. This is going to give you sleepless nights. Do not fret, I am a merciful god.”

Somehow, Kaiser doubted that.

“It is a celebration you know?”, you elaborated, closing the gap between you two. Kaiser didn’t flinch nor move back, but the anxious, pathetic lump forming in his stomach whenever you were around was certainly there, frustratingly enough.

He didn’t respond. ‘What for?’, you could almost read in his fixated gaze, watching your every move with great interest.

“It’s a thank you”, you said, voice dropping lower, more serious tone, “For being born. Otherwise, you would have been missed very much.”

The lamp atop his table burst into a million pieces as he harshly moved back, hitting the table, a bewildered, angry look in his eyes. You didn’t flinch. You were analysing him, gauging for some sort of reaction surely, like he was some sort of lab rat for you to study, he was sure of it.

“You are such a fucking weirdo. Leave me alone.”

You continued to smile. Your lips curved upward, as if permanently tattooed on your stupid face, gauging for his reaction.

Kaiser hated you. He hated how his heart lurched at your carefully crafted words. Your silver tongue lulled people into a state of perpetuate ease. He had no doubt that this was part of the reason you were where you were today.

“You are a fucking sociopath.”

“Would it make you feel better if I was?”, you countered, your eyes flittering from his face to the broken lamp on the ground, kneeling down to collecting the shards to the best of your ability.

“Why would that make me feel better?”, Kaiser sneered, the wrapping crumpling under his fingers. Whatever was inside would surely be destroyed by now. By him. As per usual.

“Because then it would be easier for you Michi!”

“Easier?”

“Of course! You don’t think you are capable of being someone that can be loved after all”, you stated, casually, as you rose back to your feet, your eyes finding his again. Unreadable as always, with that goddamn smile on your lips, an eternal limbo between honesty and dishonesty that made Kaiser want to hide,”So perhaps that would make it easier for you no? If I was, I mean. Then you could chalk it up to me being crazy.”

His reactions entertained you like no other. You loved the way his face scrunched up. He was about to cry, no doubt, but he would never let himself cry. There was murder in his eyes too, oh he wanted you dead, how amusing.

“Leave.”

His tone was quiet, but dead serious nonetheless.

“Of course”, you beamed brightly as you moved to the door, carrying the large shards with you, Kaiser still frozen in place, gift in his hands. Oh he looked ready to murder you. How endearing.

You turned back, lingering in the doorway for a moment, for a mere second, you let your facade drop. Your voice was soft, devoid of your usual playfulness, almost genuine, not that he believed you were capable of that, truly capable of that.

“I love you Michael. Happy Birthday.”

The door closed with a soft thud. Kaiser exhaled shakily, eyeing the package for a moment before throwing it into his closet.

Oh, how he despised you.

[softroundbunny]

A short sweet story for Valentine’s Day, inspired by a follower of mine who i’d definitely let breed me ♡

- “God I messed up again didn’t I.” I thought to myself as I glanced around the fancy, bustling establishment you had taken me to. First dates were getting repetitive. There wasn’t much hope left in me, too many first introductions had been made and rejected on my end. I always ended up saying too much. Obviously hinting how making a family was definitely in my future.

I was beginning to think I was doomed to only yearning for a full womb and ring on my finger until- you. A friend of a friend. “He wants a family just as much as you!” Well, we’ll see about that. As the first course came and went, I noticed a slight stammer in your speech when we talked about our goals for the future.

Stumbling around the words wife and family. I felt myself sigh once more, another man I’ve scared away with my marriage and babies rant. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of the other men either. I knew it was me and my delusions I badly wanted to make a reality.

A crashing wine glass in the distance brought me back to reality. I blinked and straightened my spine. Determined to leave this date as friendly as it could get after the crushing disappointment that yet again, another one bites the dust. I smiled at you and reached for my glass of water. “Thank you again for taking me out, I really appreciate-“

Just then our waiter arrived. Immediately snatching the wine menu from beside you. He began to nervously fiddle with it, ears turning red as he glanced between the both of us and … my stomach? “I am deeply sorry, today has been hectic and usually I pay great attention but for some reason-“ I glanced at you, confused. You returned my gaze and sat up straighter.

Suddenly, you weren’t the nervous, fumbling date I thought I was with. “Is something wrong son?” You asked the clearly frazzled young man. “Well- my manager informed me that I accidentally offered our wine menu to an expecting guest.” Our gazes clashed.

Yours, moving south. My cheeks blazed red. My breaths came out in short bursts as I glanced down. I had worn a full length, long sleeve dress. A modest but close fitted dress I deemed perfect for our first date. Now, I’ve realized my grave mistake.

With my already chubby figure, and embarrassing tendency to bloat when I eat food I enjoy, my already plush tummy had rounded out. Becoming a harder and rounded presence on my body. I looked pregnant. 6 months gone at least. I gasped and gently laid a hand on my belly, cheeks practically on fire as I imagined every possible scenario in which you laugh at me and explain to this young man that your date is neither expecting nor your wife. But a chubby young woman you were about to leave here at this table alone because “god does she only talk about her wants.”

I braced myself for the hard blow.

“Ah, no worries son. It was an innocent mistake. And, I’m quite protective of them. I made sure no alcohol was ever near her.” You smiled as the young man apologized once more and offered us free dessert. You assured him it was no problem and that you’d happily pay, the young man profusely apologized once more and offered the dessert once more. You chuckled and nodded, not wanting to put more stress on our young waiter.

He had offered to bring our dessert out now, as you looked back to me to confirm, I could see the stress now lining your face. The slight wrinkle between your brows made me think you were starting to overthink your response. Did you go too far? Would I have been more comfortable if you corrected him? Should you have-

I spoke up, hoping to ease your mind. And hoping you were who I have been looking for all this time. I cleared my throat nervously, rubbing a hand over the rounded curve protruding from my knit dress. “T-the baby would quite like that, thank you so much.” I smiled shyly at our waiter as he nodded in response and swiftly turned to put in our order.

I was too shy to look back at you. Scared that I read all of this wrong, you were probably trying to be polite and not want to embarrass this young man further. God, I really messed this up again didn’t I. I felt my smile slip. I should just leave. Thank you for the meal and the time and assure you that I can find a ride back home.

I didn’t want to make you feel like you’d be forced to take me back home, suffer through a terribly awkward car ride. I frowned as I saw my hand still placed on my tummy. I quickly placed my hand back on the table. Wishing for a hole to appear beside me that I can crawl into you.

“The baby.” Your voice broke my thoughts. A soft, gentle smile played on your lips. I searched your face for any signs of discomfort. Your eyes warm as you trained your gaze on my face. Briefly looking at my eyes, lips, and nose as if you were trying to study me. Your eyes traced down my body, stopping at my belly. Your smile got warmer, your longer fingers twitched. As if you were wishing to touch my belly, as if there was a baby in there you were waiting to feel kick.

Your smile remained, it softened. And I felt myself smiling back. My hand returned to my tummy. My thumb gently tracing the curve back and forth. “The baby.” I whispered softly.

Little did we both know, two years later, we’d be back in the same restaurant. This time, sitting side by side, as our hands laid atop my round belly. Chasing not only one, but two kicks.

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Trouble comes to town while Jamani flees and celebrates their reunion. It all leads to a final realization that's guaranteed to blow everybody's worlds apart.

Warnings: smut (18+, minors dni), toxic relationship, absentee parent, mentions of an affair, sexual activity (p in v, squirting, creampie), dirty talk, explicit terminology -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.2k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Julian had never liked the city. Even when he lived in Los Angeles, even when he was in love, even when he was married to a woman who made the air feel lighter – it had never quite felt like home. He’d only moved there to make Ana happy. To be with her while she chased her dream. Leaving his son had been heart-wrenching but leaving the city had been a relief.

And yet, here he was again, helping his son—his other son—set up an apartment like any normal father would.

Lucian moved through the space with an easy energy, cracking jokes as he unpacked a box on the kitchen counter. The apartment was sleek, modern, and absurdly expensive, but Lucian didn’t seem fazed. He had that same effortless confidence Julian recognized in his mother at that age, back when he thought Toni St. Cirie could stop the world with her fortitude.  

“I still can’t believe I got this spot,” Lucian said, grinning as he looked around. “Rent’s brutal, but the view? Man. Makes it worth it.”

Toni, standing near the counter, nodded in quiet approval. She had barely looked at Julian since they walked in. He was used to that by now.

“It’s a good place,” she said. “You did well for yourself.”

Pride swelled in Julian’s chest, unexpected and uninvited. He’d always strived to be the parent Lucian deserved. The father he should have been for Jameson. He had failed Jamie just once but it cause a ripple effect over twenty years. It wasn't a thing he could take back. But seeing his youngest son settled, seeing him on the verge of something new, made Julian feel something he hadn’t let himself feel in years.

He didn’t have a name for it.

Lucian moved to another box, rattling off a mental list. “The furniture delivery should be here later. I still need to grab some essentials, though. Towels, groceries... maybe some actual plates.” He laughed. “Might as well make a Target run. You coming, Ma?”

Toni hesitated.

“I’ll let you two go. I have a few things to take care of.”

Lucian shrugged, unfazed. “Your loss.” He turned to Julian. “Pop?”

Julian waved him off. “I’ll stay back. Unpack a few things.”

Lucian accepted that easily, grabbing the keys to his rental and heading out. The door shut behind him, leaving Julian and Toni alone in the kind of silence that carried too much weight.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Julian ran a hand over his jaw, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Los Angeles stretched before them, golden and sprawling, the kind of city that made it easy to get lost. He hoped like hell his son didn't lose himself in it. 

Toni adjusted a vase on the counter, still not looking at him.

He finally broke the silence. “Anaïs…does she know he's in town?”

She stilled, just for a second, before answering. “She knew he was moving. I’m going to tell her tomorrow that he’s here. She and I will figure out how to navigate it.”

He could hear the quiet rebuke in her words. It was amazing that his wife and his mistress had become a family all on their own. The only thing they used to have in common was him — and now he wasn't a factor in either of their lives. 

A short, humorless chuckle left Julian’s lips. “You and her. As if these are just your children.”

“What do you want me to say? Do you want to be involved? Seriously, Julian?”

“Yes. Now. What's wrong with that? They're my sons.”

“You're twenty years too late. Jamie is a man now. Anaïs is…she grew beyond you. And me? Well, you were a mistake. There's no room for you in our lives.”

The weight in Julian’s chest pressed heavier. His ex-wife had always been lovely. She was a dreamer, head in the clouds kind of girl. In a way, it made her unforgettable. He had left her, but she had never really left him.

And Jameson—

He took a breath, forcing his voice steady. “Jameson. Is he…does he know about Lucian?”

Toni frowned, her eyes sharp but unreadable. “No. He doesn't know a thing. I thought it was better that way.”

“What if they run into each other? Luke is your son. You're his mother’s best friend. They're bound to meet.”

“That isn't a problem right now. He's out of town.”

That made Julian pause. “Where?”

“With my niece.”

The pointed way she said it told him everything he needed to know. His jaw tightened.

“Imani?”

She nodded.

Julian exhaled slowly, running a hand over his head. “So, they're back together then.”

“Not that you deserve an explanation but yes. Looks that way. They haven't told anyone yet.”

He wasn’t sure why that stung. Maybe because it was just another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he had missed.

Jameson was twenty-nine. A man now. He had been just a boy when Julian left. Girls hadn’t been on his mind but now he made music for women. He fell in love, he had an extensive dating history. For so long, Julian had told himself that his son was better off without him. That Jameson had Anaïs, had Kendrick, had a life that Julian couldn’t be part of without unraveling it.

But now, standing here, the years felt like a mistake he couldn’t fix.

Toni crossed her arms. “When he gets back, Anaïs and I are telling him. He's been old enough to understand but I…it's hard for her. Facing our child has always been hard for her.”

The words landed hard. Hurting Anaïs had just about destroyed him. Knowing that Lucian’s mere existence pained her killed him. Julian straightened slightly. “You’re going to tell him about Lucian.”

“Yes.”

His pulse kicked up.

“And you weren’t going to tell me?”

Toni tilted her head, giving him a dry, unimpressed look. “What exactly would you have done with that information, Julian? Did you want to be there? Great idea! The first time you see your son in twenty years will be to introduce him to his brother.”

He had no answer for that.

She pressed on. “We’re telling him, and when we do, I suggest you not be in town.”

That stung worse.

Julian clenched his jaw. “You think he won’t want to see me?”

“I know he won't. But I think it won’t matter if he does. He deserves the truth first. Without you hovering, trying to explain yourself and get forgiveness. Anaïs deserves that opportunity first..”

He turned away from her, staring out the window again. The city outside looked the same, but everything inside him felt different.

Jameson was coming home.

And Julian had never felt further away from him.

Imani didn’t have any issues dropping everything and jetting off to St. Lucia to be with Jameson. With the first phase of therapy officially over, as he promised, he orchestrated a lush vacation for the two of them. Her heart swirled with a mixture of emotions—excitement dancing alongside a flutter of nervousness. Imani was ready to take that next significant step with Jameson. He was already hers, an unspoken truth between them, but she wanted to show him that she was committed to their relationship.

She wanted to officially ask him to be her boyfriend. 

Therapy was starting to transform their relationship for the better. It hadn’t magically resolved all their issues overnight, but Imani felt a newfound certainty that their bond could withstand any stumbles along the way. Together, they were stronger than ever before, and officially claiming him as hers felt right.

A candlelight beachside dinner while the sunset was perfect for setting the mood to ask him to be her boyfriend. They were on their last course and her stomach was in knots because she knew what awaited them after dinner. 

“Thank you, baby. This was perfect,” Jameson told her. He comfortably sat across the table from her, wearing an outfit that made her want to jump his bones. A button down t-shirt with the top button undone – his sculpted chest peeking through – a pair of slacks and dress shoes. She almost said fuck her plans after she saw his outfit. Her body longed for him in ways she could no longer describe.

“I’m glad you liked it. This is just the beginning,” Imani smirked at him. Her thumb slowly caressed his hand. 

“Damn, you went all out for me huh?” He chuckled. “Thank you. I mean it, baby. I'm grateful you trusted me enough to see a therapist. I’m glad we gave us another chance.” Jameson told her, leaning forward to hold her hand between his. “But uh…why are you sitting so far away?” he asked her softly, his thumb brushing against her wrist.

“Where do you want me, Daddy?” Imani asked sweetly, gazing into his hazel eyes. Imani knew exactly what she was doing. It’s been two months since they had sex. Her body longed – no, her body needed him. Her pussy throbbed when he got too close. Hopefully, tonight’s plan would work in her favor, because she was desperate. 

His hand fell away from hers as he glanced down at his lap -- then back up at her as if to answer her question. “I want you as close as you can get. C'mere.”

His request sent a flood to her core. Imani chuckled, trying to drown out the burning desire in between her legs. Her eyes dropped to his lap. “That’s where you want me?” She stood up and sauntered over to his lap, sitting down. Imani gazed into his eyes. “Is this better for you baby?” 

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

They made it through five courses. Their dessert plates were empty, not a morsel of food in sight. Luckily for Imani, she made it through dinner without tearing off his clothes and having her way with him right there on the beach. She didn’t know how she did it. They needed to stick to her planned schedule. 

She exhaled, her body already anticipating what was next. “I got one more surprise for you.” She confessed, standing to her feet. She reached out her hand, prepared yet anxious, to lead him back to their room. 

She unlocked their room door, pausing in her steps. This surprise was for Jameson, but she was left astounded by what the hotel staff did. Everything was perfect, but the view was even more breathtaking at night. 

Their living area, bedroom, and infinity pool seamlessly blended into one harmonious space. The absence of a fourth wall offered a sweeping panorama of majestic mountains, the shimmering Caribbean Sea, and the endless night sky filled with stars. The view was stunning, momentarily overshadowing the decorations she requested. 

Even they blew her away – a delicate trail of rose petals gracefully led the way to the bed. In a vibrant array of colors, more petals adorned the bed, artfully arranged to spell out, ‘will you be my bf’ at the top. She noticed the small gift bags on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, arranged just like she asked. 

“What’s wrong?” Jameson’s low baritone voice pierced through Imani’s dreamy trance, pulling her back to the present moment. She chuckled softly. 

“My bad, baby I–” She stepped into their room, her heart fluttering with anticipation for him to feel the same overwhelming awe she did. Imani turned to face him, her eyes tracing the contours of his face, now glimmering with wonder as he absorbed the ambiance.

“We’ve been through a lot over the past two years. I know shit is happening so fast right now, but I feel like I can’t even say that.” She confessed, moving closer to him. She took his hands, the warmth from them comforting her. “I feel like I’m right where I need to be – where I should have been a year ago. I love you, Jameson and I really do mean that shit when I say I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so it’s time that we take that first step and make this shit official again. Will you be my boyfriend?”

His grin was radiant, brighter than the moonlight and all of the stars twinkled in the night sky. Jameson was like a child finally receiving the Christmas toy they had wished for all year. “Yeah, I will.” He answered without a trace of hesitation, his voice filled with eagerness and sincerity. He wanted this just as badly as she did. 

“We go together now, huh?” Jameson murmured, his thumb gently caressing her hand as he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers.

“Yeah, real bad.” She laughed, her heart soaring as she leaned in to plant a brief yet meaningful kiss on his lips.

“I love you, Mani.”

“I love you too, Jay,” she replied, allowing a comfortable silence to envelop them, savoring a moment she knew was singular and precious. Everything felt right, perfectly aligned. This was where she was meant to be all along. Imani felt foolish for almost letting it slip away, vowing silently never to let that happen again. “I have another surprise for you,” she whispered, breaking their silence. “Give me five minutes.”

Genie hadn’t planned on stopping by. She was only in the neighborhood, running errands, and figured she’d check in on her father. She still had a key—had always had one—and he never minded when she let herself in.

But the moment she stepped inside his kitchen, something felt off.

The scent of coffee lingered in the air, but the sight in front of her made her stomach twist. Camille stood at the counter, dressed in a man's button-down shirt, her hair tousled in a way that made it obvious she had spent the night. Kendrick, standing near the fridge, looked caught. Guilty.

Genie’s heart dropped.

Camille’s eyes widened as she shifted uncomfortably. “Genie—”

Something inside Genie snapped. This was her father. This was Jameson’s father. Before she could think, she moved—fast, furious, launching herself at Camille. “You disgusting, opportunistic bitch! Are you serious?! My father?!”

Camille barely had time to react before Genie grabbed for her. Her hands curled into Camille’s shirt, yanking hard, nearly sending her off balance. The other woman let out a startled yelp, stumbling against the counter. She yelped, stumbling back, knocking over a glass in the process.“Have you lost your fucking mind!?” she screamed and that only served to piss Genie off even more.

She reared her arm back, ready to swing, but before she could land a hit, strong arms locked around her from behind. “Imogen — enough!” Her father’s voice was sharp, firm as he hauled her back, wrapping his arms around her torso to restrain her. Genie fought against him, her legs kicking, hands clawing to get free.

“Daddy, let me go!” She struggled wildly, eyes burning as she locked onto Camille. “You have some goddamn nerve—”

Camille, red faced and breathless, scrambled away, gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

“Baby, please.” Kendrick’s voice was tight as he held Genie against his chest. “Just relax and breathe.”

“Don’t you tell me to breathe!” She thrashed once more before finally going still, her body trembling against him. Her breaths came hard and fast. “Have you gone senile?” she spat at him.

She heard her father exhale sharply and slowly his arms loosened around her. “I can explain.” Camille slowly edged away from the kitchen, fear and anger in her eyes. “Ken, I’m gonna—”

“Get the fuck out!” Genie cut in coldly.

The moment she was gone, Genie wrenched herself away from her father, turning on him with eyes full of betrayal. “What is this?”

Kendrick ran a hand down his face, exhaling. “Genie—”

“No. No, you do not get to ‘Genie’ me right now.” Her voice shook, but not from fear. “Do you even know who she is? What she’s done? She lied to Jameson. Manipulated him when he was at his lowest point.” She stepped closer, glaring up at him. “And now you’re letting her do the same to you.”

Kendrick’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing.

“How pathetic.”

His expression darkened. “Watch yourself, Imogen.”

“Or what?” She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You gonna punish me? Ground me? You’re wrong, Daddy. And you know it.”

“We understand this is difficult. It’s a strange situation but —”

“We? Don’t talk to me about ‘we’. Even if I didn’t hate her fucking guts…she was sleeping with your son a couple of months ago!”

“Jameson isn’t my son.”

The words stopped Genie in her tracks, her heart dropping down into her feet. “What did you just say?” Tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t quite believe the words came from his mouth. “Why? He can’t be your son so you can fuck his ex?!”

Her father shook his head and she could see him struggling with the words he was saying. “Because I got reminded that in the end, I don’t matter to his life.”

The fight went out of Genie. She couldn’t believe any of this. It was overwhelming and disgustingly cheap. Everything she never considered her father to be. Her upstanding, intelligent, warm, and loving father was…just a man at the end of the day. “Fine. Sleep with her. Date her. Make a complete fool of yourself. But I won’t be around until she’s gone.” Her voice turned scathing, tears rolling down her face. “Jameson would be disgusted.”

The words landed hard.

He flinched—just barely—but Genie caught it. And for a moment, silence stretched between them. Finally, she released a shaky breath, blinking back the sting in her eyes. “Do whatever you want.” She turned for the door, her voice quieter but no less firm. “But don’t expect me to sit back and pretend this is normal.”

She walked out, slamming the door behind her.

The walk to her car was short but full of pain and disappointment. She fumbled with her phone, dialing Imani’s number several times. It went straight to voicemail. Calling Jameson to tell him seemed so hurtful. She didn’t know if she could pull the words from her throat if she heard his voice…so she called Imani again and left a message.

“Mani. Call me when you get this. I…I can’t…I can’t even describe it. Just call me. I’m okay but something happened.”

“Jamie? Do you have the notes for Dr. Madison’s class?”

Imani’s voice, lilting yet authoritative, floated down the hallway as she emerged from the bedroom. Jamie’s eyes widened as he turned to get a second, lingering look at her; in that heart-stopping moment, he knew he was in trouble. His words tangled in his throat, leaving him mute as Imani stood in the doorway. The majorette uniform clung perfectly to her curves as if tailored solely for her -- a vision that reignited his fond memories of his Howard days. In that instant, his mind brimmed with what-ifs: What if their paths had crossed sooner? What if they had met in college instead of now? The possibility that destiny was twisting their fates together filled him with anxious anticipation and delight.

“I... uh… yeah. I do,” he replied and Imani rewarded him with a dazzling smile before sauntering closer. As she advanced, Jamie’s eyes trailed every graceful step, his hands instinctively finding her hips as she pressed her body against his.

“I was at practice. You mind if I borrow them?” she asked in a tone that was both casual and teasing.

“Uh… I’m sorry. I need them. You can study with me, though, if you want,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with reluctant longing.

She gave a coy shrug, adding with a hint of a smirk, “Hm. I don’t know. You probably don’t study the way I study.”

Unfazed and driven by a magnetic pull, Jameson didn't flinch when she insistently pushed him toward the bed. When she finally propelled him down onto the soft, rumpled sheets, he surrendered. His pulse quickened as his heart skipped a beat when she straddled his lap.

It had been several months since they last surrendered to their desire -- besides a few lapses in judgment. Yet now, as tension buzzed in the charged atmosphere, they were both on the brink.

Imani had already been perched on his lap for what felt like an eternity, a distraction. Jameson's hands traced slowly along her thighs, creeping upward methodically. “...How you study?” he murmured with a soft sigh, his voice a dark purr as his hands inched toward her waist. His hands gripped her hips confidently, encouraging her body rhythmically against his own.

Imani assertively placed her hands on his chest and rocked her hips in perfect sync with his, eliciting a deep, guttural grunt from him -- hinting at lost control. “Wait, wait. Slow down,” he whispered, trying to steady the sensations surging through him.

“For what? I thought you wanted to study with me,” she cooed mischievously.

With another deliberate movement, Imani repeated her seductive maneuver and Jamie became acutely aware of just how hard he was. He knew she could feel it too. The concept of celibacy, a great idea at the time, wasn't just in danger -- it was obliterated. Their therapist let them set the pace. They didn't talk about when it would end...but he knew it was over now.

“You staying right here. You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” she murmured with a husky insistence. “It’s been too long, Jameson…”

For what felt like endless hours, they remained wrapped around each other. Their hips grinding a slow, sensuous rhythm as soft, tentative kisses deepened into a heated embrace. Before long, his hand found its familiar place pressed firmly against her ass, pinning her delightfully against him. It wasn't long before her eyes closed and jaw dropped. They were both completely dressed but she was halfway to an orgasm.

"I swear, I missed this dick so much." She flinched against him, circling her hips hard as Jameson arched his own to hit that exact spot she needed him to. She rocked her hips slowly against his lap, each movement sending ripples of delight through him, so encompassing that he closed his eyes for what seemed like an eternity. It caught them both by surprise when she came, her thighs squeezing his hips as they ground against one another. She came hard, clinging tightly to him.

Jameson moaned into her mouth and immediately tugged at her shorts. Imani moved slowly, the orgasm sapping much of her energy. She helped him roll her shorts down her hips and wiggled to kick them down her legs. The two kept kissing, tongues tangling as they lay together...until they couldn't avoid it anymore. Imani stood on her feet by the bed and hurriedly undressed. Their foreplay hadn't been completed but they were both more than ready.

Jameson unbuttoned his slacks, his length springing free. Coated in pre-cum and standing tall, he watched as Imani eyed his dick. The undisguised desire in her eyes made him moan, length twitching with desire. "C'mere." He mumbled, not even wanting to waste time but letting her put her mouth on him. He needed to be inside her. Now.

“You knew you had me as soon as you put this on, didn’t you?” he teased, marveling at how predictable his surrender felt. Imani had never forced him before -- but with a hint of pressure from her, he immediately folded. Rising slightly, he reached for her, his hand finding purchase on the smooth, supple back of her thigh, drawing her ever closer until they both tumbled backward onto the bed.

"Mhm." She said softly, giggling as she straddled his waist again. "Knew you wouldn't be able to resist me."

Tonight, it was her turn to command.

"Okay, you got me,” he murmured against her lips, savoring the sweet intoxication of her kiss. In that moment, all resistance melted away, just as it had the first time their eyes met over five years ago—a moment that had set his heart ablaze. His love for her was unyielding, a fervor that had not diminished with time. “Do what you want with me." he whispered.

And she did.

She pressed him inside her and they moaned together -- Imani was already trembling. He should have stopped her. They should have used protection...but fuck it. This was his.

Her breasts, heaving with each thrust, swayed in his face and Jameson lifted his head, tongue licking against her skin every time she moved forward. Her hips, grinding against him in a slow rhythm that sent pleasure coursing through his veins. Their moans mingled together in the air as she leaned down to capture his lips once more -- tongue dancing with his. It felt so damn good that he knew he'd never do celibacy again.

"Fuck, daddy." she meweled, her hands pressed to his forearms. His hands roamed freely over her body, tracing the curves of her hips and rib cage before settling on her luscious ass. He squeezed gently as he kept pace with her movements above him. "Don't stop. Keep it right there."

Imani arched her back in ecstasy and Jameson was damn near willing to do anything and everything for her. "Spank me." She begged. The words were barely out of her mouth before he lifted his hand, smacking down against her cheek. The sound echoed throughout their room and Imani clenched tightly over him. She didn't say a word but he could feel it building between them both.

Jameson lifted his hand again, repeating the movement once...twice...thrice. She shook hard, shaking her head as if it would stave off the orgasm that was rising. "Don't hold back." Jameson said lowly. "Soak this dick, baby. Make my shit look good with your cum."

She bounced on his lap, skin against skin -- tapping against one another. She leaned in and licked her tongue across his lips...He almost came right then.

"I'ma cum, daddy. Choke me."

Dutifully, he did as she asked. With a final slap against her ass, he slid that hand up her body and carefully wrapped his fingertips around her neck. He held her tightly there, constricting her movements but making sure every time she came down on his dick, he ground her clit against him.

That did the trick. She moaned, screamed, and thrashed against him as she came. The hand at her throat didn't restrict her speaking voice. In fact, it made her louder. She said every nasty thought that popped into her head and Jameson groaned.

"This your pussy!" "You got my shit squirting, baby." "I'ma cum all over you." "I'm gonna suck your dick dry tonight, I promise." "I'ma give you everything, daddy. I promise."

His heart melted at the confession but all he could do was match her intensity, giving as good as he got from this goddess of a woman. She wasn't lying. Every time he lifted her from his lap, she soaked his dick in a new coat of release. It tricked down his thighs and his balls, soaking the sheet below them both but he couldn't stop. He kept lifting her, her moans growing strangled the more that came from her body.

There they were -- teetering on the edge of bliss together -- their breaths ragged pants as they moved together in harmony towards his finish. She could tell he was on the brink. He panted against her lips and she smiled, knowing she was about to send him spiraling.

"You love me?" she asked him softly. Jameson whimpered, nodding his head as she bit down on his lower lip. "Then show me." Imani encouraged him. "Cum for me."

One last deep kiss sealed their connection and he did what she asked, grasping her thighs tightly as he came deep inside her. Imani cradled his head against her chest, encouraging him on.

And that was the last time Jameson ever thought about celibacy.

Anger had coursed through her body not even ten minutes ago. She could still hear Genie screaming downstairs, but it sounded far away as she clung to the toilet, throwing up her meager breakfast. It was a wave of sickness that stuck with her for a week. Her body rejected everything she ate. Overwhelming fatigue clung to her like a parasite. Her breasts throbbed with a constant ache, a sensation that was new and unsettling. Initially, she brushed it off as the stomach flu or some other illness.

But it had gotten alarming last night when she had completely thrown up dinner. Without Kendrick by her side, she had gone to the store and bought a pregnancy test. They were supposed to talk that morning. She had told herself she would tell him but then Genie had interrupted. Now, she was back in the bathroom and it was clear that her first instinct was correct.

Shit. 

She couldn’t be pregnant. She and Kendrick were still navigating the early stages of their relationship. She liked him. She craved his presence in ways that transcended physical desire. She cherished their conversations and the comfortable silence that enveloped them when they were together. She wasn’t ready for a baby to disrupt that.

The idea of taking a pregnancy test filled her with dread. She was scared her worst nightmares would become a reality. Yet, she needed to know the truth, no matter how terrifying it would be.

She summoned enough energy to get the test from her back and heard a door slam in the distance. Either Genie was gone or Kendrick had left and she didn't think he'd leave her in the house with his crazed child. Either way, Camille hurried back to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes passed but she still didn't know the truth. Sitting on the cool porcelain toilet seat, Camille cradled her head in her hands. Her phone timer had been going off for five minutes, but she remained motionless, trapped in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

The small white stick on the counter was more terrifying than any horror movie she had ever seen. If the test was positive, she feared she would lose everything.

With a deep, tremulous breath, Camille braced herself. She had to face it. Her hand trembled as she picked up the pregnancy test, eyes squeezed shut in apprehension. Slowly, she opened them to confront the result. Pregnant. She was pregnant. Panic surged through her. What would she say to Kendrick? Would this spell the end of their promising relationship? She raked her fingers through her curly hair, her foot tapping in an anxious rhythm. The thought of losing him already was unbearable.

She felt lost, unsure of whom to turn to. She couldn’t call her parents. She couldn’t go down and tell Kendrick, could she? Her thoughts spiraled inwards, a chaotic whirlwind. She reflected on the times she and Kendrick didn’t use protection.

Then, an unsettling thought intruded—Jameson. They hadn’t used protection several times during their relationship. Including the day before they had gone to Aspen together. It was faint but there was still a chance. The baby could be his. What the fuck was she going to do?