#this was the first time i tried doing this kind of lighting and i think it looks fucking great

[hy6erion]

Hear ye! I have a request my liege, how about a fem reader trying to win over viktor multiple times but fails all attempts until it is revealed he does in fact reciprocate🤭

𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐮𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬-𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧.

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐦𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐱𝐱

You were nothing if not persistent.

Viktor was sharp, focused, and hopelessly oblivious to the fact that you were doing everything in your power to win him over. It wasn’t that he was cold—far from it. He was kind in that absentminded, half-listening way of a man too buried in his work to notice the very obvious signs of affection right in front of him.

And so, you tried. Again. And again.

Attempt #1: The Lunch Offer

Your first plan was simple: food.

You had spent hours preparing something special, something homemade, something that you knew he’d like. You weren’t the best cook, but you had carefully followed every step of the recipe, determined to impress him.

Approaching his workspace, you cleared your throat, balancing the carefully wrapped meal in your hands.

“Viktor?”

He didn’t look up. His fingers twitched slightly as he adjusted the mechanism he was working on, the dim light of the laboratory casting sharp shadows along his face. His brow was furrowed in thought, lips parted slightly as if he were mid-calculation.

You tried again.

“Viktor, I made lunch for you.”

That got his attention. He blinked, finally shifting his gaze toward you. His golden eyes flickered between you and the carefully packed meal in your hands.

“You did?”

You nodded enthusiastically, setting it down on his cluttered desk. “Yeah! I figured you probably haven’t eaten much today, so I thought I’d bring you something homemade.”

A pause. Viktor regarded the meal with mild curiosity before offering you a small, appreciative smile. “That’s thoughtful of you, thank you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Progress.

But then— Without hesitation, Viktor picked up his fork, poked at the food once, then twice, before taking a single bite. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable.

Your fingers curled anxiously. “So? What do you think?”

“…It’s interesting,” he said diplomatically.

Your stomach dropped. “Interesting?”

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I appreciate the effort.”

You deflated.

“I might have miscalculated the salt,” you admitted sheepishly.

Viktor, ever the gentleman, coughed lightly. “Ah, yes. A bit… potent.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Okay, okay, I get it! It’s bad, isn’t it?”

He chuckled, nudging the plate slightly away but still offering you a kind smile. “Not bad. Just… an acquired taste.”

You groaned. First attempt: failure.

Attempt #2: The Book Gift

You knew Viktor loved books. It was one of the few things that could pull his attention away from his work—albeit briefly.

So, you found a rare book on Hextech theories and wrapped it neatly, tying a ribbon around it for good measure.

You waited until he was in a rare moment of relaxation—well, as close to relaxation as Viktor ever got. He was seated at his desk, flipping through his notes with a cup of tea beside him.

Perfect timing.

“Viktor,” you called softly, holding out the book.

He turned, glancing at you before his gaze landed on the package in your hands. “What’s this?”

“A gift,” you said, smiling. “I thought you might like it.”

His brow furrowed slightly, curiosity shining in his eyes as he reached for the book. He unwrapped it carefully, the ribbon slipping off with ease. When he saw the title, his lips parted in surprise.

“You found this?”

You grinned. “I did! It took some effort, but I figured you’d love it.”

For a moment, he seemed genuinely touched. His fingers traced the spine of the book as he flipped through the first few pages, skimming the text.

“Oh, this is the outdated version.”

Your smile froze. “…What?”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, scanning the pages. “This edition was published before Heimerdinger updated his findings on Hextech decay rates. The later editions corrected a few errors in the theory, particularly in chapters three and five.”

You stared.

He looked up, noticing your expression. “…Not that I don’t appreciate it!” he added quickly. “It’s a thoughtful gift, truly. I will still read it.”

You sighed dramatically. “I was trying to impress you, you know.”

Viktor blinked. “Impress me?”

“Yes! And instead, I gave you an outdated book!”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s not about the edition. It’s the effort that counts.”

You folded your arms. “So I failed, huh?”

His lips quirked up. “Not at all. You are very persistent.”

Not exactly the answer you wanted, but you supposed it wasn’t a complete loss.

Attempt #3: The Stargazing Invitation

This time, you were going for romance.

You had set up a small spot on the Academy’s rooftop, a cozy little corner with blankets, pillows, and even a small lantern to give off a warm glow. The sky was clear, the stars bright. It was the perfect atmosphere.

Now all you needed was Viktor.

Dragging him away from his work had been no easy task. He had resisted at first, insisting he had equations to finish and calibrations to check, but you had practically pulled him by the arm, determined.

When you finally reached the rooftop, you gestured grandly. “Tada!”

Viktor looked around, brow raised. “…You brought me here to sit on the ground?”

You huffed. “Not just sit—stargaze. Relax. Take a break.”

He hesitated before carefully lowering himself onto the blankets. His cane rested beside him as he leaned back, gaze flickering toward the night sky.

You watched him closely. “What do you think?”

He was quiet for a long moment, then finally spoke. “…It’s peaceful.”

Success!

Encouraged, you scooted closer. “I thought you could use a moment to breathe. You work too hard.”

Viktor hummed, seemingly considering your words. “Perhaps you are right.”

You turned your head to look at him, the glow of the lantern casting soft shadows along his sharp features. He looked beautiful like this—lost in thought, his golden eyes reflecting the starlight.

Heart pounding, you gathered your courage. “Viktor… can I ask you something?”

He glanced at you, intrigued. “Of course.”

You swallowed. “Have you ever… thought about taking a break? Not just from work, but from everything. Spending time with someone. Maybe… me?”

Viktor blinked.

Then, with all the grace of a man absolutely oblivious—

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to burden you with that,” he said sincerely.

You stared.

He continued, oblivious to the weight of your question. “My work is demanding, and I would not want you to feel neglected. Relationships require time and attention, and I would hate for you to be disappointed.”

You nearly groaned out loud.

For a man as brilliant as Viktor, he could be painfully clueless.

With a resigned sigh, you flopped back onto the blanket, staring up at the stars. Another attempt, another failure.

—

You weren’t expecting much when you walked into the lab that evening.

In fact, you were expecting nothing at all.

After weeks of trying—pouring your heart into homemade meals, thoughtful gifts, and starry rooftop nights—you had resigned yourself to the truth: Viktor either didn’t notice your feelings, or he didn’t want to notice them.

And honestly? You were tired.

You had been visiting him less and less, not completely avoiding him, but pulling back just enough to protect yourself. You still cared—you would always care—but unrequited love wasn’t something you could keep torturing yourself with.

So when you stepped into the lab that night, you told yourself you were just here for work. Nothing else.

Jayce and Viktor were deep in conversation when you entered. Jayce stood by Viktor’s desk, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Viktor, seated, was scribbling something furiously in his notebook, barely acknowledging his friend’s presence.

They both turned when they saw you.

“Oh, hey!” Jayce greeted, his usual easy-going grin in place. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

Viktor’s head snapped up so fast you almost thought he hurt himself. His eyes flickered to you, studying your expression for a fraction of a second before returning to his notes.

You forced a small smile, holding up a stack of reports. “Just dropping these off.”

You moved to place them on Viktor’s desk, careful not to linger, but Jayce’s next words stopped you in your tracks.

“You know,” he mused, voice dripping with playful amusement, “for someone who constantly complains when she’s not around, you sure don’t act like it, Vik.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that immediately thickened the air, made it heavy, charged.

Your brain took a full three seconds to register what Jayce had just said.

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

Viktor froze.

His pen, mid-stroke, halted against the page. His entire body went rigid, his fingers tightening around the notebook in his lap.

Jayce, bless his completely oblivious soul, continued without a care in the world. “Yeah, seriously. Every time you’re not here, he—”

“Jayce.”

Viktor’s voice cut through the air like a knife. Low. Sharp. Warning.

Jayce finally seemed to sense the weight of the situation. He looked at Viktor, then at you, then back at Viktor, realization dawning like a slow-motion catastrophe.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Ohhh.”

You barely heard him. Your entire focus was on Viktor, who was currently staring a hole into his notebook as if he could will the conversation out of existence. His grip on his pen was so tight you thought it might snap in half.

You took a step closer. “Viktor,” you started carefully, “is that true?”

He didn’t answer. Your stomach twisted.

Jayce shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—”

“Leave.”

It was barely more than a breath, but Jayce immediately straightened. “Yeah. Yep. That’s my cue. I am—definitely—leaving.”

And then, with the speed of a man fleeing imminent death, he was gone.

The door shut behind him, leaving you alone with Viktor.

And still—he didn’t look at you.

You took a slow breath, willing your voice to stay steady. “Viktor.”

Nothing.

So you took another step closer, moving carefully, deliberately, until you were standing directly beside him. Close enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tight.

“…Is it true?” you asked again, quieter this time.

A long, heavy pause.

Then—finally—he exhaled. A slow, controlled breath, like he was preparing for something.

“…Yes.”

Your heart stuttered.

He still didn’t look at you. His eyes remained fixed on the desk, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his notebook.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your pulse was hammering in your ears. “Then why—?”

“Because it is irrelevant.”

That caught you off guard. “What?”

Viktor let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You deserve someone who is not married to his work. Someone who can give you their full attention, not just stolen moments between projects.”

Your chest ached. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

He went still.

Slowly—hesitantly—he finally turned to look at you.

His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were guarded. Careful. But beneath that, beneath the walls he so carefully constructed, there was something else.

Something hesitant. Something fragile.

Something real.

“…You would grow tired of me,” he said quietly. “Of the late nights. Of the exhaustion. Of the way I forget to eat unless someone reminds me.”

You stared at him, barely able to breathe. “Viktor—”

“I am not good at this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I do not know how to—” He stopped, inhaled sharply, then exhaled again. “I do not know how to be what you need.”

Something in your chest cracked open.

You reached for his hand before he could pull away. Your fingers brushed against his—warm, steady, certain.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you said softly. “You just have to be you.”

Viktor stared at your intertwined fingers like they were some kind of impossible equation.

Like he wanted to believe you, but didn’t quite know how.

“…And if I disappoint you?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

You squeezed his hand. “Then I’ll let you know. And we’ll figure it out. Together.”

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue. But for once—for once—he didn’t.

Instead, after a long, drawn-out moment, he simply closed his fingers around yours.

Not tightly. Not desperately.

Just enough.

A quiet, tentative acceptance.

“…You are remarkably persistent,” he murmured, the smallest, softest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Viktor shook his head, exhaling something that almost sounded like a chuckle. “Jayce is going to be insufferable about this.”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

And then—finally, finally—Viktor let himself relax.

[wolvietxt]

𝓣HIN 𝓦ALLS.

pairing : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : injury detail (hardly), hurt/comfort, fluff, light angst, neighbour!frank, sensitive reader, no use of y/n summary : you’ve been dealing with a noisy neighbor for weeks, constantly hearing grunts, gun cleaning, and the occasional heavy sigh through the walls. one night, you hear him groan in pain, followed by a loud thud. you knock on his door, only to find frank castle bleeding out on his floor. wc : 2.1k a/n : neighbour!frank idea from @agirlcandream84 thank you so much i adore your neighbour!frank�� also i wanna make this a little snapshot series lmk if any of you have any ideas

the first time you noticed your neighbor, it wasn’t because of anything he said. it was because of the sounds.  

deep grunts, the metallic clicks of a gun being cleaned, the occasional heavy sigh that made your stomach flip in ways you didn’t want to think about. at first, you tried to ignore it - people made noise, it was an apartment, thin walls weren’t exactly a rare struggle. but after the third night in a row of hearing the same steady rhythm of deep, measured breathing and the scrape of metal, you started to feel a little unnerved.   

he was quiet in the hallways, never said much more than a rough “hey” when you crossed paths. but you noticed things - like the way he never seemed to make eye contact, like he was used to keeping his head down. or how he always smelled like gunpowder and something a little like blood, a little like sweat.   

still, he wasn’t the worst neighbor you could have. he wasn’t throwing parties or blasting music, wasn’t yelling on the phone at odd hours. but there was something about the way his presence filled the silence between you that made you feel hyper-aware of every sound he made. it didn’t help that you were sensitive - jumpy at loud noises, easily overwhelmed when things got too chaotic. so every scrape, every sigh, every muttered curse in that low, gravelly voice of his sent a shiver down your spine.  

you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal.  

until tonight.  

you’d been curled up on your couch, a blanket pulled up to your chin, trying to block out the world with some mindless tv when you heard it - something heavier than usual. a groan, low and rough, followed by a sharp curse. then a thud.   

your stomach twisted.  

for a second, you told yourself to ignore it. it wasn’t your business. but then silence stretched out on the other side of the wall, a kind of stillness that felt wrong. you hesitated for all of two seconds before you were up, hurrying to your front door. your fingers trembled as you knocked.  

no response.  

you knocked again, harder this time.  

“hello?” your voice came out softer than you wanted, barely above a whisper. “are you okay?”  

nothing.  

your heart was hammering as you reached for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. you barely pushed the door open before the smell of blood hit you, sharp and metallic.  

and there he was.  

your neighbor - frank, you remembered hearing someone call him once - was sprawled on the floor, blood seeping through his shirt, his face pale. his breathing was uneven, rough. panic surged through you, your throat tightening.   

“oh my god,” you gasped, dropping to your knees beside him. your hands hovered over him uselessly. “you - you’re bleeding, you’re - ”  

his eyes cracked open, dark and heavy-lidded, scanning you with something slow and unreadable.  

“shit,” he muttered, voice thick with pain. “you shouldn’t be here.”  

but you weren’t listening. your hands were already moving, pressing against the wound even as your eyes burned with unshed tears.  

“you need help,” you choked out. “i - I don’t know what to do, should i call someone? an ambulance - ”  

his hand shot out, gripping your wrist - not rough, but firm.  

“no hospitals,” he ground out.  

you swallowed, chest tight.  

“then - then what do i do?”  

his gaze softened, just a fraction.  

“just stay,” he rasped. “just - keep pressure. don’t go.”  

and even though your hands were shaking and your eyes were threatening to spill over, you nodded.  

your fingers trembled as you pressed harder against the wound, the warmth of his blood seeping through your hands. you sniffled, trying to keep yourself from completely breaking down, but your chest felt too tight, too full of panic.   

“i - i don’t know what i’m doing,” you whispered, voice shaking. “i don’t - i’m not a doctor, i can’t - ”  

“hey.” his voice was rough, but softer now, like he could hear the way your breathing was getting uneven. like he could tell you were a second away from losing it. “you’re doin’ fine. just keep pressure on it.”   

his hand was still on your wrist, warm despite how much blood he was losing. his thumb brushed over your skin, barely there, but the little touch sent a different kind of shiver through you. your brain felt scrambled, like you couldn’t focus on anything except the way he was looking at you now - less sharp, less closed off. like he was seeing you for the first time, really seeing you.   

you swallowed hard, nodding even though your eyes were wet, even though you felt like you were about to burst into tears any second.   

“okay,” you murmured. “okay.”   

you kept pressing down, watching the way his jaw clenched, his breathing rough as he tried not to react. he was tough - you knew that just from the way he carried himself, from the way he never seemed phased by anything. but he was hurt now, bleeding, and the sight of him like this made your chest ache in a way you didn’t know how to handle.   

“what happened?” you asked, voice small.   

he exhaled slowly, blinking up at the ceiling. “got into it with the wrong people.”  

you bit your lip, your fingers twitching where they rested against his stomach. you wanted to ask more, wanted to know what exactly he meant by that, but something about the way he said it told you not to push.   

instead, you focused on keeping pressure on the wound, on the way his breathing evened out just a little under your touch. your own breathing was still unsteady, but he wasn’t looking at you like you were weak. he wasn’t rolling his eyes at how easily you teared up or how your voice trembled when you spoke.  

he just looked... tired. and something else, something softer.  

“you always this jumpy?” he asked after a beat, his voice quieter now.   

your cheeks burned. you tried to wipe at your face with your shoulder, embarrassed at how quickly you’d teared up.   

“sorry,” you mumbled. “i just - i get overwhelmed easily.”  

he hummed, like that made sense to him. his fingers flexed against your wrist again, and you weren’t sure if he even realized he was still holding onto you.   

“s’nothing to apologize for,” he muttered. “just didn’t peg you for the type to come runnin’ to help a guy like me.”   

your brows furrowed. “what’s that supposed to mean?”  

he sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “means i ain’t exactly good company.”  

you frowned at that. you might not have known him well, but you knew enough to know that he kept to himself, that he didn’t bother anyone. sure, he was intimidating - quiet, intense, the kind of person who felt larger than life even when he wasn’t saying a word - but he’d never given you a reason to be afraid of him.  

“that’s not true,” you said before you could stop yourself.   

his eyes opened again, locking onto yours. for a second, it felt like you’d said too much. like you were pushing into something he wasn’t ready to talk about. but then his expression shifted, something in his face relaxing.   

he didn’t say anything right away, just looked at you for a long moment before exhaling through his nose.  

“you got a name?” he asked finally.  

your lips parted in surprise. “you - you don’t know my name?”  

“never asked,” he said simply.   

you blinked at him. you’d lived next door to each other for months. all this time, you thought he just didn’t care to acknowledge you, but now you weren’t so sure.   

“it’s - ” your voice caught, your heart still racing, and for some reason, that made you want to cry all over again. “it’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now,” you said instead, shaking your head. “you should be resting.”   

he watched you for a second longer before huffing out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.   

“crybaby,” he muttered, but it wasn’t mean. wasn’t teasing.   

your face burned again. “am not,” you said weakly, sniffling.   

he smirked, just a little. “sure, sweetheart.”   

your stomach flipped. you didn’t know if it was from the nickname or the fact that he was still bleeding under your hands, but either way, you were feeling way too much at once.  

you looked away, trying to get yourself under control.  

“you should probably get stitched up, right?” you murmured. “have you got a first aid kit?”  

he nodded toward the bathroom. you hesitated, biting your lip, not wanting to take your hands off the wound.  

like he could sense your hesitation, his fingers curled a little tighter around your wrist.  

“i’ll be fine,” he said. “go on, sweetheart.”  

your stomach flipped again. you swallowed hard and nodded, moving quickly toward the bathroom.   

as you rummaged through the cabinet, your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. this was insane. you were in way over your head. but when you came back and saw the way his gaze softened just a little when he saw you again, you knew one thing for sure. you weren’t going anywhere.

you worked as quickly as you could, hands still shaking as you set the first aid kit down beside him. his blood was everywhere - on his shirt, his skin, your hands. the sight of it made your stomach churn, but you forced yourself to focus.  

frank watched you, quiet and steady, even as you fumbled with the supplies. he was still pale, but there was something almost amused in his expression, like he could tell how hard you were trying to hold it together.  

“you done this before?” he asked, voice low.  

you swallowed, shaking your head. “no.”  

his lips twitched, just barely. “figured.”  

your face burned. “you - you don’t have to be mean,” you mumbled, grabbing the antiseptic.   

“ain’t bein’ mean,” he said, and the way he said it made your breath catch. “just think it’s real sweet, you tryin’ so hard.”  

your chest felt too full. you bit your lip, blinking rapidly as you poured the antiseptic onto a cotton pad.   

“i think… this is supposed to hurt. right? it looks like it’s gonna hurt, frank, i don’t know if - ,” you started, unaware of the fact you were beginning to ramble.   

he grunted, cutting you off. “been through worse, sweetheart.”  

your face was still hot as you pressed the pad to the wound, and he tensed beneath your touch, muscles going rigid. you winced, sniffling despite yourself.  

“sorry,” you whispered.   

he exhaled through his nose. “told you, you don’t gotta - ”  

“i do,” you cut in, voice soft but firm. “i do, frank.”  

his expression shifted at that, something unreadable passing over his face. but he didn’t argue. you kept going, hands as steady as you could make them, cleaning the wound and prepping the needle. you hesitated before threading it, biting your lip hard.  

“you sure about no hospital?”  

“positive.”  

you swallowed. “okay.”   

he stayed quiet as you stitched him up, but his hand rested lightly against your knee, his fingers curling slightly whenever you pulled the thread through. it was grounding, in a way - like he was the one keeping you steady, even though he was the one bleeding all over the place.  

by the time you finished, your body was thrumming with nerves, exhaustion, something else you didn’t know how to name. you sat back on your heels, exhaling shakily.  

“all done,” you murmured. “you should rest.”  

frank huffed. “don’t need to be fussed over.”  

your face scrunched up. “you were literally bleeding out on the floor,” you argued, sniffling. “let me fuss.”  

he looked at you, long and hard, before sighing through his nose.  

“fine,” he muttered.   

you moved to stand, but before you could, his hand closed around your wrist again, stopping you.   

your heart skipped.  

“thank you,” he said, quieter this time. like it was hard for him to say, but he meant it.  

your throat tightened. “you’re welcome.”  

he didn’t let go.  

you swallowed, eyes darting to his fingers around your wrist, then back up to his face.  

“i should - um, clean up,” you whispered.  

his grip loosened, but he didn’t pull away.  

“stay,” he murmured instead. “just for a bit.”  

your breath caught.  

he wasn’t looking at you now, but you could see it in the way his jaw was tense, the way his fingers flexed just slightly like he was waiting for you to pull away. like he expected you to.  

but you didn’t.  

“okay,” you whispered, settling back down beside him.   

his shoulders relaxed just a little. his fingers brushed against your wrist one last time before letting go, and you knew, somehow, that this was only the beginning.

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[goldfades]

does Hayes ever have times where he’s a total momma’s boy and Joe has to fight for her attention? I feel like you’d have to juggle two pouty whiny children because they’re not getting your full attention and one of them is your husband

i got like five million requests for momma's boy for hayes, and honestly he IS momma's boy, through and through and always will be

It started slowly at first—little things you didn’t think much of.

Hayes had always been attached to you. That much was obvious from the moment he was born, but lately? Lately, it was like he had developed a sixth sense specifically for when Joe got too close to you.

It was in the way he’d suddenly appear the second Joe pulled you into a hug, his tiny hands wedging their way between you both, his little face scrunching up in disapproval. If Joe so much as rested a hand on your thigh while you sat on the couch, Hayes was there in an instant, wiggling his way onto your lap like he was reclaiming what was his.

And bedtime? Forget it.

The second Joe tried to wrap an arm around you in bed, Hayes—who had miraculously woken up from a perfectly fine sleep—would start calling for you through the baby monitor, like some kind of territorial alarm.

Joe brushed it off at first, laughing whenever Hayes pulled one of his little stunts.

"That’s my boy, fighting for what’s his," he’d joke, ruffling Hayes’ hair, acting like it didn’t bother him.

But over time, as the baby barricade between you and Joe grew stronger, the amusement started to wear off.

Especially when Hayes began glaring at him.

You first noticed it when Joe had leaned in to kiss you goodbye before heading to practice one morning. Hayes, perched in his high chair with a fistful of pancake, scowled at his father like he had just committed an unforgivable crime.

Joe paused mid-kiss, catching the look. "Did—did he just mug me?"

You tried not to laugh as you glanced at Hayes, who was now hugging your arm possessively, his chubby fingers clutching onto you for dear life.

Joe scoffed, hands on his hips. "Oh, you think this is funny?"

Hayes remained stone-faced, gripping you tighter.

Joe really tried to be the bigger person.

At first, he played along with Hayes’ little antics, humoring him like it was some kind of funny phase.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he’d mutter whenever Hayes forced his way onto your lap, effectively kicking Joe out of his spot. “You’re trying to replace me, huh?”

Hayes would just blink up at him, completely unbothered, before turning to nuzzle into your chest like some kind of smug little prince.

Joe would shoot you an exasperated look. “You’re really just letting him do this?”

You tried to be neutral about it, but honestly? It was kind of adorable. Hayes was still so little, still so attached to you in that way only toddlers could be. And truthfully, it wasn’t like you hated all the extra snuggles.

But the real breaking point came one Saturday afternoon, when Joe had the absolute audacity to wrap his arms around your waist while you were standing at the kitchen counter.

The moment his hands made contact with your hips, you heard a small gasp from behind you.

Then— "NO!"

Joe barely had time to react before Hayes came barreling into him, tiny hands pushing at his thighs like he was physically trying to separate you both.

Joe stumbled back, throwing his hands up. “Are you serious right now?”

But Hayes was dead serious. His little brows furrowed, lips pouted in betrayal as he latched onto your leg, looking up at you like, Mommy, I can’t believe you’d do this to me.

"Buddy," Joe tried again, voice light and reasonable. "I was just hugging Mommy."

"No!" Hayes clung harder, sending a defiant glare in Joe’s direction.

Joe turned to you, mouth slightly open in disbelief. "Okay, I think I’ve been replaced. This is—this is an actual hostile takeover."

You couldn’t help but laugh, running your fingers through Hayes’ soft hair as he cuddled into your leg, victorious.

"Joe," you soothed, glancing up at your husband’s genuinely offended face. "It’s just a phase. He’s a mama’s boy right now."

Joe folded his arms. "Right now? He’s been a mama’s boy his whole life."

"Can you blame him?" you teased, giving Joe a playful smirk.

Joe groaned, running a hand down his face. "I just want one kiss. Just one."

But Hayes was not having it. The second Joe leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek, Hayes wiggled between you again, little arms pushing at Joe’s chest with all the strength his tiny body could muster.

And Joe? Joe was finally fed up.

"Alright, that’s it. You wanna go, little man?" Joe bent down, grabbing Hayes under the arms before tossing him into the air. Hayes squealed—part delighted, part indignant—before Joe caught him again, holding him up so they were face to face.

"You think you can just take my wife?" Joe challenged, squinting at him playfully.

Hayes giggled, but still, his tiny hands grabbed fistfuls of Joe’s shirt, as if making sure his dad wouldn’t get too close to you again.

Joe groaned, holding him out dramatically. "Babe, he’s obsessed with you."

You smirked. "Welcome to my world."

But Joe wasn’t giving up. He pulled Hayes in closer, staring him down. "Listen, buddy, we’re gonna have to share, okay? You can’t just claim her."

Hayes blinked. Then, very seriously— "Mine."

Joe gasped. "Did you just—?" He turned to you, absolutely betrayed. "Did you hear that? He just called dibs on you."

You shrugged. "I mean, technically, I did bring him into this world, so…"

Joe’s jaw dropped. "You’re taking his side?"

Hayes grinned, sensing his win.

Joe sighed dramatically, plopping Hayes back down. "Unbelievable. My own son. Stabbing me in the back like this."

You rolled your eyes, walking up to press a kiss to Joe’s cheek. "Don’t worry, babe. You’ll always be my first love."

Joe grumbled, wrapping an arm around your waist again. "Yeah? Tell that to our tiny little homewrecker over there."

But you knew, despite all his complaints, Joe secretly loved it. Because later that night, when Hayes finally (finally!) let Joe tuck him into bed, you caught your husband lingering at his door, watching him sleep with that soft, completely smitten look in his eyes.

And yeah, maybe Hayes had stolen you away for now…

But Joe would let him. Every single time.

[duckybarnes1917]

Bad Idea, Right?

18+ Only

Ex-boyfriend! Gojo x Reader

Summary: You left Gojo Satoru for a reason. He wasn't reliable. He wasn't serious about building a future together. He was always gone. But one thing he was...amazing in bed. Much better than your new husband. Could anyone really blame you for falling back into his bed just one more time?

Warnings: The only actual trigger warning is this fic contains cheating. Reader is cheating on her husband with Gojo. It's angsty. Other than that...it's smut...be pleasantly surprised 😘

AN: This is my first time writing in the JJK fandom! I just finished season 1 a couple of days ago so this fic is based on limited knowledge of the characters! Happy Valentine's Day! Oh and I took liberties with the powers and such!

Thinking about ex-boyfriend Gojo, who you can’t help but call. Dealing with his infuriatingly cocky attitude is worth it for the way he fucks you like no one else can. Every time you fell into his bed, you swore it wouldn’t happen again, especially now that you were newly married. You didn’t love your new husband, but he was rich, and he took care of you. You married him hoping to secure a future for yourself–and hoping the sex would get better–you could teach him, right? Gojo wasn’t that special– right?

Wrong. 

It had been a month since you got married and as many times as you tried to teach your new husband what you liked, what turned you on, he just couldn’t get it right. Tonight had been your last straw, you had tried so hard to be patient. He was doing better, but he had finished before you got off. And then had the audacity to fall asleep. 

You shot a glare his way as you climbed out of bed noisily and slunk off to the bathroom. The door slammed behind you and you waited for any kind of response. You got nothing from the other side of the door but more heavy snores.

The drawer across the bathroom, where you kept your toys, was calling your name. You knew it wouldn’t be the same, but what choice did you have? Maybe if you set the mood, it would be better. You turned off the overhead light, lit a candle, and listened to soft music on your phone. Still, you stared at the toys in the drawer with disappointment. Your most trusted wand was waiting for you on top, and you sighed as you picked it up. 

You tried to block him, to picture anyone else except for him as you worked the toy over your sensitive flesh. But there was no one else. And you were too close to the edge to care anymore. You let him flood your thoughts. His hands, his scent, his voice, his mouth–the toy died in your hand and you let out a groan of despair. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” you nearly yelled in frustration. No, you were beyond frustrated. You were aching, and desperate, and only one name was running through your mind. 

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed your phone off the counter and opened his contact. The last message from him was dated a little over a month ago. A slight tickle of shame nagged at you, but your fingers pressed on. 

You up?

His typing bubble appeared immediately. And you bit your lip anxiously, excitedly, as you waited for his response.

Be there in 5 minutes. 

Maybe less.

You rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even try to pretend you were texting him for anything else. Despite your annoyance, your body clenched in anticipation. You bent over the sink to splash cold water on your face–you couldn’t stand to face him so achingly desperate, you needed to cool down. Just as you were thinking you should probably go wait for him on the porch–because he was obnoxious enough to ring the doorbell at three in the morning–he suddenly appeared behind you in the mirror, that obnoxious grin on his face. His big hand covered your mouth before you could scream. 

“Don’t want to wake hubby before I even get you off,” Gojo teased in your ear before he let you go and spun you around to face him. 

He wore his familiar deep blue-black uniform, a black blindfold over his eyes that held his white hair perfectly in place. He always towered over you, but you felt smaller than usual in nothing but your robe, looking up at him from where he was caging you against the marble sink. Even in your dark bathroom, with only the light of one candle to guide your sight, his beauty still struck you in all the right places. 

“Fuck you,” you huffed as you pushed his chest. He didn’t move, unaffected by your attempt.

He grabbed your wrist before you could pull it back. “Well, hello to you too.” He leaned in closer, his grin spreading wider and you held your breath, prepared for his lips to meet yours. But he pulled back quickly and moved next to you to lean against the counter. 

“So,” he dragged the word out as he crossed his arms. “What's up?” He could barely keep the smile off his face as he toyed with you. 

“Satoru,” you crossed your arms, mirroring him. 

He simply raised one arched white brow, waiting. Was he really going to make you say it? Asshole. 

“You know why I called you,” you grumbled. 

He tapped his chin with one long finger, humming in thought. “A chat? Is your dishwasher broken again? Oh, I know,” he snapped his long fingers and jumped up from the counter. You winced at the volume of his voice. “You want a rematch on Mario Kart! Sore loser.” 

“Shut up,” you hissed, anxiously glancing at the bathroom door, “dumbass.” You were starting to regret this already. 

“Would it have anything to do with this?” 

You turned back to him and found that he had moved to the other end of the counter where you had left your drawer open, your failed toy now in his hand.

“Hey, don’t touch my stuff!” You moved to snatch it back from him, but of course, he easily moved it out of your reach.

 He waved it tauntingly at you before he pushed the button to turn it on. 

“Doesn’t work very well,” he fake pouted. “Need some help?”

You swallowed your desire to fight him. “Yes,” you answered, just barely above a whisper. 

“Sorry, didn’t catch that sweets.” Gojo leaned down as if to hear you better. 

You clenched your hands into fists. “I called you because I thought you would get me off, not talk my ear off.” 

“What do you take me for?” Gojo straightened himself, his hand on his chest. “I’m not a whore, you could have at least made me dinner first.” 

“Seriously, Satoru, fuck you. I don’t even–”

“Where?” He cut you off and tilted his head as if he was thinking about it. The playfulness was seeping away as he stepped closer to you. “Should I fuck you right here, keep you quiet so your husband doesn’t hear?” The word husband rolled off his tongue with a mixture of annoyance and glee that you knew meant he was getting off on this more than he should be. “Or take you back to my place so you can be as loud as you want?” 

Your mouth opened to answer him, to give him the only logical answer, but no sound came out. You hated this effect he had on you. 

“What do you want, sweets?” He moved closer, lifting you with ease onto the bathroom sink. His fingers trailed up your thigh under your robe and you opened your legs for him, trying to force him to make the decision. You were not in the mood to think right now. 

He smirked and moved his fingers teasingly up your inner thigh and over your hip instead of where you wanted him.

“Toru,” you pouted, too wound up for his teasing. “I want your mouth–please,” you added on the please to try to win him over. The word felt like broken glass in your mouth.

Gojo’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you nearly whined. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, sweets.” Gojo leaned in and placed his lips at your ear as his fingers finally started to explore where you needed him most. He paused, losing his words for a moment, and you felt your cheeks heat at how wet he found you–how needy. 

He cleared his throat once and continued, “You’re gonna come on my fingers like a good girl right here in this room next to your sleeping husband. And then I’ll take you home and fuck you however I want for as long as I want.” 

His long fingers were already inside of you–you would have agreed to anything he said. You nodded your head frantically as you gripped his shoulder. “More, faster,” you were trying to be quiet, but when he added a third finger, the sound that came out of your mouth was foreign to your ears. 

“Fuck, I like you desperate,” Gojo’s voice was husky in your ear. All traces of his playful attitude were gone as he expertly crooked his long fingers inside you.   

“I’m close,” you gasped. “Don’t stop.” 

“Already?” He teased. “He’s not taking care of my pretty little pussy at all, is he?” 

You wanted to argue with him. No part of you was his . But you both knew you would have been lying. Your head hit the bathroom cabinet as your hips arched up, trying to get even closer to him. You covered your mouth as you came on his fingers. His smooth voice faded in and out, praising you as your ears rang. Before you could come back down to earth, your surroundings shifted as he teleported you both to his apartment. 

Your back hit his soft bed, and you immediately reached for him, pulling him closer to you as you devoured his mouth. He tasted sweet, and you imagined he had been eating candy before he appeared in your home. His tongue worked against yours deliberately, sliding across the roof of your mouth and you knew he was teasing you on purpose. You wrapped your legs around his waist and moved your hands to his face. The sticky substance your hand came into contact with on his cheek made you pause and pull back. 

“Toru, what the fuck?” You sat up as he began laughing. He flipped on the light and you gasped at the blood on your hand and over his face. “What the fuck?!” 

You jumped off the bed and ran to his bathroom. He was still laughing as he followed you. 

“It’s just a little blood. Don’t freak out. I was working when you called.” 

You scrubbed your hands furiously in the sink as you glared at him in the mirror. “Why the fuck would you answer your phone if you were on a mission?!” 

Gojo wasn’t fighting. He was sitting with his back against a tree trunk, long legs stretched in front of him and a bag of sour candy in his hand. He watched his students work together to exorcise a curse. It was well within their ability to handle it, with a little guidance from him. He had already handled the more serious threats–it got a little messy, but it was easy work. 

He smiled proudly as Itadori landed a skilled hit. Then his phone buzzed, and he glanced at it quickly. It was probably just Ijichi asking for an update on the reports he was behind on. He had to do a double-take to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating your name on his screen. 

Nope. 

Not crazy. 

It was you. 

“YES!!” He yelled, jumping to his feet and pumping his fist in the air. 

“What is it?!” Itadori yelled from across the field, blocking an attack, as he looked back at Gojo with concern. 

“Gotta go! You got this team!” 

“What?!” Itadori and Kugisaki yelled. “Where are you going?!” 

“Don’t bother asking,” Fushiguro said with the knowledge of someone who had spent plenty of time dealing with Gojo and his antics. 

“You’ll understand when you’re older, bye! Proud of you!” Gojo gave them one last wave before he disappeared. They’d be fine. He had waited too long for this…okay like a month.. but still that was much too long. 

  “It wasn’t a big deal. My students are taking care of it,” Gojo shrugged.

“Jesus,” you muttered as you wrung out a washcloth and turned to clean his face. “I could have waited.” 

“Please,” Gojo scoffed as he took the washcloth and cleaned the places you were too short to reach on your tiptoes. “You practically came as soon as I touched you.” 

“I really hate you.” 

You snatched the washcloth back from him and threw it on the sink for him to deal with later. The heat of his gaze followed you as you walked back to his bedroom, dropping your robe on the way. 

“I know.” Gojo smiled at you as you laid back on his bed. “Need something, sweets?” 

You groaned and sat up on your elbows to glare at him. “You can not seriously be as unaffected as you pretend to be.” 

You couldn’t see his eyes, hidden under his blindfold, but something shifted momentarily on his face. It made you shiver. 

“I asked you a question.” He crossed his arms as he leaned against the door frame. “Or I can send you back home?” He raised his fingers in threat. 

“No!” You glared at him again. “I need you, Toru. Need your mouth, please.” 

“Good girl,” he smirked but finally made his way to where you lay on his bed. He kissed you gently before trailing his lips down your neck, your chest, and over your stomach. 

This is what you had missed the most about him. His damned mouth was both the bane of your existence and your personal nirvana. Your husband didn’t share Gojo’s talents or desire in that department. The few times he had even offered to go down on you had left you more frustrated than pleased. 

Gojo’s big hands held your hips down as he teased your belly button with his tongue. “Tell me I’m the best.” 

“Wh–what?” You nearly laughed even as you were trying not to moan.  

“You heard me.” His mouth moved lower and goosebumps erupted over your skin as his breath hit your swollen clit. 

“Toru, please,” you breathed out, body tense. 

“Say it.” His fingers entered you slowly, hitting that spot that made your toes curl with ease. 

Fuck him. Seriously. 

“Come on sweets, I’ll make you feel so good, just tell me–”

His breath on your clit had you close already. 

“Fuck! Just—” he blew cool air on your clit and you lifted your hips in desperation. “You’re the best, Toru, fuck , you fuck me so good!” 

“Better than your husband?” 

“Yes!” You pulled on his hair, urging him forward. “So much fucking better it’s not fair.”

His mouth wrapped around your clit, and you came instantly. Thighs shaking around his head as he moaned against you. His tongue replaced his fingers as he drank you up. It truly wasn’t fair how easy this was for him. And how were you ever supposed to move on knowing that this was one text away, anytime you wanted it?

Gojo’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading them further apart as he lost himself in you. His once teasing tongue, now filling you so nicely that you were babbling nonsense. Praising him like you never would normally. But you would have said anything to keep his mouth right where it was. The arrogant asshole had the biggest praise kink you had ever seen. 

“It’s so good, Toru,” you whimpered. “You feel so good, fuck!” You buried your hand in his white hair as your hips bucked up, grinding against his face. 

He pulled back, and you whined at the loss of sensation.  

“Aww, you wanna ride my face sweets?” 

You nodded and watched with rapt attention as he stood and undressed himself. He grabbed the high collar of his jacket with his teeth as he yanked the zipper down. The rest of his clothes disappeared just as quickly. You gulped at the sight of his cock, heavy and ready for you. 

“Focus,” Gojo pointed to his face and your eyes snapped up. He laid back on the bed and beckoned you forward. He was beautiful, as always, all lean-toned muscle and ridiculous abs. You could have stared at him for hours, spent even longer worshipping every part of him. But right now, you have one sole purpose. Your eyes moved to your prize. His pretty mouth, smirking at you. “Come on sweets.” His words are honeyed and tempting. 

Hurriedly, you crawled over him until you hovered over his ridiculously handsome face. His hands splayed over your waist, ready to pull you to him. 

“Wait,” you paused him and ran your fingers over his blindfold. “Can I?” 

“Always.” 

You pushed the silk black blindfold off his face, revealing his sparkling blue eyes. They were dilated with hunger that made your thighs clench. 

“You’re so pretty Toru.” 

He didn’t give you time to regret the words. 

“Not as pretty as you, sweets. Now come on, ride my face like I know you’ve been dreaming about.” 

“Cocky bastard,” you muttered as you sat on his face, not giving him a chance to respond. 

Even you had to admit that riding his pretty face, hand buried in that pretty hair, staring into those pretty eyes–he had the right to be cocky. How could anyone else ever compete with this? 

You were close, thighs clenching around his head. You looked back to watch him stroke himself–knowing he needed this too made you come all over his pretty face. 

He groaned against you, moving both his hands to your waist to hold you in place while he fucked you through your orgasm. 

“God, fuck that was good,” you sighed as you slid off of him. You intended to ask for a break, your legs felt like jello and you were sensitive after so many orgasms back to back. But Gojo had other ideas. He flipped you onto your stomach and lifted your hips, he was inside you before you could protest. 

“Fuck sweets,” he groaned, “you feel so good every damn time.” 

His cock was too much. The stretch burned, and his blunt tip hit the perfect spot with every thrust of his hips. 

“Too much–Toru” you gasped as he gave you another sharp thrust. 

“You can take it,” he answered, his body weight falling on you as he ran his tongue over the shell of your ear. His hand wrapped around your throat, two long fingers dipping into your mouth. “ You called me. You’ll take what I give you, yeah sweets?” 

Seriously, fuck him. 

You hummed around his fingers and nodded. 

“Good girl,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. “Take it, know you need it.” 

He moved his hips faster, and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. He felt so good–otherworldly. Exactly what you had been craving. You couldn’t breathe, he stole each breath with each thrust of his hips. He leaned over you again and intertwined his hands with yours. You felt his lips as they began a path on your left shoulder, leaving searing kisses down your arm. 

“Fucking perfect. Just being wasted. I’d never let you out of my bed. Mine.” A sloppy kiss followed each word until he reached your wrist. You turned your head to watch him as he kissed the ring on your finger, running his long tongue over it. It was too much, you had to close your eyes as pure pleasure melted your brain. Stars twinkled behind your eyes and you couldn’t stop the tears born of ecstasy anymore. 

“Aww, are you cryin’?” His cocky voice should have made you want to punch him, but you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm. His tongue licked up your tears and you shattered around him. “So good for me, sweets.” 

Gojo pulled out and flipped you onto your back. His gaze devoured you from head to toe before he met your teary eyes again. His fingers brushed your cheek gently. “Need one more, sweets, just one more. You can do that for me, right?” 

You couldn’t speak, you made a small noise of consent and he rewarded you with a smile.

“You’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?” He nipped at your skin, tongue teasing your breast while he pushed your thigh up. “So pliant,” he spoke mostly to himself as you closed your eyes and let him slide into you again. “You don’t let him fuck you like this, do you?” 

You knew he was talking about the lack of protection. You also knew the answer he was hoping for and you couldn’t give it to him. You wanted kids, he knew that. Gojo had never offered the security you needed from him–he was always gone, always so flippant about everything. He was never going to be marriage material. That’s why you had left him in the first place. 

You felt his smile fade against your skin as he sat up to look at you. 

“Not yet, but Toru–I’m off the pill. You knew I wanted this.” 

His face darkened, and you saw a hint of anger in his blue eyes. He didn’t say anything as he lifted your leg and put it over his chiseled shoulder. His pace had slowed, but he was hitting those deep spots inside you that only he had explored. Finally, he took a breath and leaned back down to your ear. “Gonna send you back to him full of my cum. Full of my babies.” 

You gasped even as your pussy clenched around him, betraying you. “You can’t,” you tried to argue. 

“You want it, I can feel it.” 

You did want it, both the feeling of him cumming inside you and his kids. But you’d never let him know that second truth. 

“I hate you,” you whimpered against his lips, tears brimming your eyes again. 

“I know, I know, I hate me too.” 

He didn’t give you time to question what that meant. He quickened his pace, fucking you so hard you couldn’t form words if you had tried. 

Your back arched off the bed as you moaned for him. 

“Hold on sweets, not yet.” He lifted you off the bed and held you in his lap. He helped your hips move faster than you could manage on your own. He watched your breasts bounce for a moment, eyes transfixed, before he took one in his warm mouth. Your whole body was so sensitive, you cried out for him and one of his big hands moved to squeeze your free breast. He was messy, a string of saliva connecting him to you as he moved his mouth from your tits to your neck. He was going to leave a bruise, you could feel it. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped. “You have to–I can’t take anymore.”

“I said not yet,” he growled against your throat. “I’m not ready to be done with you. Not yet.”

Me neither. 

You wanted to say. 

I never want to be done with you. 

But you said nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hid your face in his snowy white hair.

Your world shifted, and you gasped as you suddenly found yourself back in your bedroom–in your bed–your husband still peacefully asleep right next to where Gojo was laying you back on your pillow. 

“Toru, what the fuck?!” you whisper-shouted at him as you hit his chest. He simply laughed, loud and annoying. You shot a panicked look at your husband, but he didn’t move at all. 

“Don’t worry, sweets, he won’t bother us.” Gojo put your legs back where they belonged, over his shoulders, and resumed his brutal pace. 

Your headboard rattled, and the sound of his hips snapping against yours filled the room. Still, your husband slept as if nothing was happening. You didn’t question it–Gojo had his ways. You couldn’t possibly think straight with how well he was fucking you, anyway. You dropped your head back and squeezed your eyes closed against the pleasure curling low in your stomach. 

“Do you think about me when he fucks you?” 

“Yes!” you answered with zero hesitation, and you felt him shiver under your hands. “Always you.” 

“I hate you,” he groaned quietly, painfully. 

“I–” you couldn’t think of a response to that line, which usually only came out of your mouth. You couldn’t think of anything but how deep inside you he was. 

“Come on, sweets,” his normal voice was back, cocky and needy. “Come all over my cock.” Gojo’s finger rubbed tight circles on your clit and you groaned. 

“God, fuck, fuck , Jesus !” 

“Say my name,” he panted against your mouth. “Say it, fucking say it.”

Satoru. 

Satoru. 

Satoru! 

You couldn’t stop saying it. 

“I’m cumming,” you gasped, “Toru, fuck!” You continued chanting his name and you could tell he was close, too. His thrusts got sloppy, and he whined in your ear when you pulled his hair. 

“Don’t make me stop,” he groaned, planting sloppy kisses on your neck. 

You should. You absolutely should make him stop. 

“Don’t,” you whimpered, “don’t stop, Toru.” 

“Fuck,” he moved from where he was hiding his face against your neck and pulled your head back to look at him. “Say it. Louder.” 

He was frantic, his eyes so dilated, that you could just barely see a ring of blue. His tongue swiped at your lips in a messy kiss. 

You never stood a chance. 

“Come inside me, Toru. Please. Please, fill me up. Want it, need you.” 

“Fuck yes, take it,” he panted against your lips as he came. “Such a good girl took me so well.” 

You whimpered against his lips as he gave you a few more sloppy kisses before pulling out of you. He laid on his side, propped up on his elbow to smile cockily at you. 

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that.” You glanced over at your husband, who still hadn’t moved. 

Gojo smiled and shrugged his shoulder. “You’ve called me worse.” He swiped his fingers through your folds, pushing his cum back inside and then licking his fingers clean. 

You stared at him in awe and hatred, no words coming out of your mouth. 

“Mmm,” he hummed as he laid his head on your chest. “What a great night. Killed some curses, had amazing sex, and I get to collect on my bet with Kento. I told him you’d cave in less than 6 weeks.”

Heat prickled up your spine. If you hadn’t been so blissfully fucked out, you would have thrown him off of you. You settled for pulling his hair hard until he babbled out an apology. 

“Idiot,” you hissed as you let him go. 

“Kidding,” he rubbed the back of his head as he frowned. “Come on, shower.” 

He hopped out of your bed like nothing was amiss and when you didn’t follow, he came back and picked you up as if you weighed nothing. 

“Sorry, forgot you probably can’t walk right now.” 

Too tired to argue with him any longer, you snuggled against his neck and let him carry you to the shower. You let him bathe you and dress you and carry you back to bed. You were half asleep by the time he laid you down on your pillow. That didn’t stop you from laughing at the sight of him in your robe. He didn’t think to teleport clothes with him. 

“Shush,” Gojo pulled your comforter up to your chin, and you nuzzled against your pillow, inhaling his scent now embedded in the fabric. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as he kissed you. 

“Anytime, sweets.” 

“Last time,” you mumbled. “Go get a girlfriend.” 

“Not likely,” he chuckled. “I’ll wait for you.” 

He meant he’d wait for your next text, for your resolve to break again. That’s it. You wouldn’t let yourself believe anything else. 

You felt him brush your hair back, a whisper of a kiss placed on your temple. 

You reached for him, to pull him closer, but your fist closed around air. You opened your eyes to find him gone, just as quickly as he had appeared.

        Gojo teleported back to his apartment before he said anything else stupid. He should change and go to sleep. But being alone was…hard. The silence in his apartment felt like it was choking him. His laissez-faire attitude worked best with an audience. 

Quickly, he put his uniform back on and secured his blindfold over his eyes. After a quick text to Kento to pay up, he teleported back to the field he had left his students in. Thankfully, they were still there. The curse was almost exorcised. They did not need his help at all. He could make himself feel better by watching their growth and achievements. Or…he could kill something. 

  Gojo removed his blindfold as he let himself float off the ground. The cursed energy that coursed through him built and built as he thought about you. He shouldn’t have gone. He told himself that every time. And every time he left you feeling shitty he told himself that next time he wouldn’t answer. He remembered the way he had literally leaped for joy at your text. Idiot . 

“Gojo?” 

Itadori’s voice from below. He’d be disappointed he didn’t get to finish the job. But Gojo couldn’t stop the cursed energy as it flew from his hands. The curse exploded into a million messy bits with a scream of horror. Gojo winced as blood splattered him from head to toe. He glanced down at the kids. Fushiguro was shaking blood out of his long hair and he could practically see the steam coming out of Kugisaki’s ears. 

“Ice cream?” Gojo asked cheerily, a big fake smile on his face. They ran to him as his feet found the Earth again. 

“Yes!” Itadori exclaimed. 

“What the hell was that?!” Kugisaki yelled, her hands balled into angry fists. 

“Where did you go?” Fushiguro asked quietly as Gojo led the way to the black car waiting for them. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Fushiguro fell quiet but looked up at him again hesitantly. “Are you okay? You looked…scary up there. And that curse was practically exorcised already.” 

Gojo ground his teeth. Now the kid chooses to get talkative. He looked down at Fushiguro and almost blew him off again. But the kid looked so earnest. Gojo put his arm around him and pulled him closer. 

“I did something I shouldn’t have. Something selfish.” 

“That’s not new.”

“I suppose not,” Gojo sighed. The ache in his chest had only been slightly dulled. Too bad there wasn’t another curse lurking around to kill. 

“How are you going to fix it?”

Gojo hummed, pondering. “Well, I guess when you love something, sometimes you have to let it go. I’ve been too selfish to do that.” 

“Something or someone?” 

Gojo flinched as Itadori popped up on his other side, big curious eyes boring into his face. 

“ That’s why you left?” Kugisaki groaned. “Ew.” 

“That’s not–no I–” Gojo stuttered, and they all broke into a fit of giggles. Even Fushiguro had a smile on his face. 

“No ice cream for any of you.” Gojo stomped off, leaving their pleas and apologies behind him. 

You had always thought that his love for his job and his students meant he would make a great father. You never understood why he never wanted that with you. It hurt you and he hated it. Hated that it cost him everything. But you never understood that his job was exactly why he couldn’t have that future with you. He couldn’t be there for you and you deserved someone who could. 

He sat in the car, staring at your contact on his phone. The next time you called, he wouldn’t answer. His finger slid across the screen and pressed the red delete button next to your name. 

His heart felt like it had been exorcised. A big empty hole in his chest that could never be repaired. He heaved a sigh, clutching his phone so tightly that it was a wonder it didn’t shatter, and said, “Last time.” 

He loved you enough to give you that.

[megumiluvv]

“Oh, by the way, what are you getting your partner for Valentine’s Day?” Choso hears his coworker ask him.

Valentine’s Day. He had almost forgotten. What is he going to get you? Should he plan a date? He can’t, you’re Yuji’s babysitter. He doubts Gojo will let the boy stay the night during Valentine’s of all days. What is he supposed to do?

“Uh, I’ll show you next time I see you.” He quickly covers for his coworker.

“Hah, can’t wait, see you later.”

He can’t believe that the coworker bought that poor excuse. Now he just needs to come up with something. He’s scrolling through his phone when his phone dings. A message from Sukuna.

Of course! How could he forget that he has an uncle? Sukuna can handle watching Yuji for a night, right? As if he has plans anyways. He checks the text from the older male.

“Are you needing a babysitter for tonight or do you not have plans?”

“I was just about to text you.” Choso replies, though he obviously just got the idea. “Can you watch Yuji for the night?”

“I guess, you’re so inconvenient.”

“You messaged me first, uncle.”

He can imagine the scoff his uncle just let out.

“Fine, but if he cries and asks to FaceTime you, it’s not happening.”

“Fine by me, I’m hoping I’ll be too busy to answer anyways.”

“Enjoy your date, wear protection.”

“Don’t be inappropriate, uncle. And thank you.”

With that handled, he hurries home and packs a bag for Yuji. The pink-haired boy enters the apartment with a big grin and a bag full of candy. He had a Valentine’s party in class today.

“Choso, guess what?? Megumi gave me his special present! He said he only gave it to me!” Yuji shows off a small stuffed tiger.

“Aww, that’s sweet, did you have fun?”

“Yeah! Lots and lots of fun! And I have a lottt of candy!”

“I see that. I’ll make sure it’s safe. You’re going to uncle Sukuna’s house tonight.”

“Why?” Yuji tilts his head.

“Because I have plans for Valentine’s Day.”

“Okay!”

Yuji plays with his new stuffed animal and you step into their apartment. The boy’s eyes light up and he runs to you.

“Look look! See what Megumi gave me? He gave it to only me! It’s a tiger!”

“I see, I see, Yuji. It’s amazing.” You reply and ruffle the boy’s hair.

Choso smiles and watches you two interact. Your smile is always full of kindness, so full of affection… Yuji giggles and tries to fix his disheveled hair.

“I’m going to my uncle’s tonight!” Yuji grins.

“Oh? Why’s that?” You tilt your head to Choso.

“I was planning a date for us.” Choso explains.

“Aww, how sweet! I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned.” You smile to the ravenette.

Sukuna picks up Yuji, and you go to your apartment to dress nicely. Now Choso has another dilemma. Every restaurant he would rather take you to is reservation only tonight. Talk about bad luck. He refuses to go somewhere less than five star, so he quickly sets up his table to look like it’s ready for fine dining.

When you re-enter Choso’s apartment, you smile a bit at the gesture. “Dining in tonight?”

“Sorry, it’s last minute. But I do have some meat ready to be cooked. Anything you want. We can even try making a cake again.” Choso rubs your hips with his thumbs, a little nervous for some reason.

“Hmm, let’s share a pasta. Like that dog movie Yuji watched.”

Choso grins and prepares the pasta while you make a cake. You decide to play some music so the kitchen isn’t silent. An hour later, everything is ready. You let Choso sit you at the table and he takes the seat opposite you. You both share a large plate of pasta and a slice of cake topped with strawberries.

“I think this is nicer than any other date I’ve had for valentines. Most guys just gave me flowers and chocolates and then took me to wherever they wanted for the date.” You think out loud.

“Yeah, this is much nicer than other dates. And we haven’t really had a date since that first one. Since I’ve been busy and Yuji hasn’t really been out of our hands.”

“I haven’t even realized that much time had passed. Feels like no time passes when I’m with you.” You smile.

Choso’s heart flutters. How can you continue to be so perfect, all the time? The two of you wash dishes and the music changes to a slow dance song. Choso dries his hands and offers one to you.

“May I have this dance?”

You grin and take his hand. “You may.”

His other hand meets your waist while yours rests on his shoulder. You keep eye contact as you both sway in the kitchen, soft music filling the moonlit room. The quiet click of heels on the tile matches the beat of the song.

“Thank you for tonight, Choso. You always manage to sweep me off my feet, no matter what you do. Cooking dinner with you and sharing it is more intimate than some restaurant, and I appreciate it more.” You smile as he pulls you closer.

“I should be thanking you for agreeing to everything last minute. I honestly forgot what today was until a coworker talked about it.” He huffs out of annoyance of himself.

“Things are worth waiting for if it’s you. Last minute or not, I’m glad to spend Valentine’s with you.”

“…you’re an angel after my heart.”

“Would you let me have it?” You giggle.

“Gladly.”

You both smile and share a kiss, lips pressing and molding each other’s as if they were made to connect. He carries you to his room, ready to celebrate Valentine’s Day in a different way with you.

Happy Valentine’s Day!! ᰔᩚ

Masterlist

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @mysteriaqueen @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf @theirlgarfield

@jasminelee324 @t-candy @luvdella

[jilymicrofics]

Our amazing writers have come together to sow a little extra love this Valentine's Day. Here to make everyone's heart blossom with joy at the astounding 19 fics!

Mia and Monty's Potion Shop by @tedwardremus for eclipsedechoesofmywords

After the death of his parents, James Potter takes over ownership of the family potion shop. He has to pass the Ministry's mandatory inspection to ensure he his following all safety regulations. Unfortunately for him, the Ministry inspector is his old Hogwarts rival and crush - Lily Evans.

Memories by @siriuslychessi for juniperpyre

James wants to show Lily a very special place in the castle but Lily is not patient enough to get surprised.

Neither Of Them by @eclipsedechoesofmywords for Constanzin

his wife by @juniperpyre for chiaraforfun

James interrupts an Order meeting to argue that Lily shouldn't be sent into the field under any circumstances. Lily is pissed, but kind of turned on. or Lily: you should be addicted to shutting the fuck up James: you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid

Castles Made of Sand by @practicecourts for Annabtg

Every single member of the noble and most ancient house of Black has to show up, however unwilling he or she might be, to any Black family event. It's the cursed tapestry. Sirius Black has tried pretty much everything he can think of to get himself off of the blasted thing, nothing so far has worked, until he meets an old friend from school. Lily Evans is absolutely sure she'll manage to turn the prodigal son and heir of the Blacks into a persona non grata, within three dates. Everything goes about as well as you'd expect.

Second Time's The Charm by @tinyluminaryzombie for @abihastastybeans

James kisses Lily and then dashes, leaving her to devise a plan. The goal? To be James's girlfriend by the end of the night.

Like I lived my whole life before the first light by @annabtg for Annasghost

The spark between them flares into life on the first day and never goes out. Lily thinks nothing of it at first — it’s just there, and he’s just a boy — but over the years, as she grows up and learns of life, there are some moments where it shines brighter. A heavenly provision, one might say; a little ray of light to brighten the cold, damp February mornings. Or: Five Valentine stories where James Potter came first in Lily Evans's heart and the one time he didn't.

Second Chances by @annasghosts for Emmathecasualauthor

Headquarters, 9 pm. For James Potter, it’s another Order meeting. For Lily Evans, it’s the crack that threatens to tear her carefully constructed world apart and force her to face the past she fled five years ago.

Something Big by @chiaraforfun for jjameslily

James wants to do a snowball fight

In Love, With Extra Credit by @livelaughlovetoread for Eastwindmlk

He's annoying. He's a nerd. He's handsome. And, He's hers. A Seventh-year Fluffy Sexy Jily

The Space Between by @jjameslily for Nena-96

Trapped at the Three Broomsticks during a snowstorm, James never expected that a night spent with a certain sharp-tongued rival would stir up feelings he hadn’t realized were there.

I Bet You Think About Me by @wearingaberetinparis for neverenoughmarauders

“Do you think about it sometimes?” Her voice was soft, shy almost, and when he looked up in surprise he noticed that her face was pinker than it had been a moment before. “About -?” He trailed off. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I mean…” he started, feeling as if he might as well lay his soul bare if he were to admit to the fact that he had never stopped thinking about what had happened between them just over a year ago, “… do you?

a woman taken by the wind by @littlefoldedpaperstars for siriuslychessi

“What?” James asked, slightly offended that he was being kicked out. “What are you guys doing?” “Performing human sacrifices,” said Marlene, heavy on the sarcasm. “Drinking the blood of men,” said Lily, notably less sarcastic than Marlene. James didn't have a vampire fetish, but if that was what Lily was into, he would be cool with it. - Or: James is immediately enchanted when he meets Lily and her one-eyed cat. Lily thinks she'd be better off alone (not counting her four cats).

In the Cracks of Light by @emmathecasualauthor for wearingaberetinparis

He blinks several times, and Lily can tell he’s trying to work out what he’s seeing. Who he’s seeing. Then, whatever has been keeping him( from registering the sight in front of him falls, because he manages to speak. “Lily?” Her heart positively plummets. In which Lily Evans is a Muggleborn street thief, and her latest target is a man she hasn't seen since she was seventeen.

Hold My Hand by @neverenoughmarauders for practicecourts

Lily Evans has spent months convincing herself that keeping her distance is the best way to protect her and James' friendship. On September 1st, her resolve to keep away must come to an end. However, the summer has only served to have her heart ache more for James, which spells trouble.

(Un)Happy Accidents by @eastwindmlk for tedwardremus

James Potter wants to ask Lily Evans something important, but it seems like the universe is against him and he regales his misadventures to his friends.

Scene from a Marriage Proposal by @constancezin for tinyluminaryzombie

A Sunday Kind of Love by @formerlympp for littlefoldedpaperstars

Lily never would have imagined moving into a flat where three men already lived together and all she could hope for were relatively tidy, non-axe murderers, who would let her live in peace. But life had other plans for her, and it all started with a simple Sunday morning.

Date Night by @nena-96 for livelaughlovetoread

James meets Richard Evans before taking Lily out on a date, but it seems that Richard wants to make sure his daughter won't get into any sorts of mischief. As always chaos ensues. or "What in Merlins saggy balls is going on here?!" Lily shouted.

[sunrisecaminus]

Ultra Magnus x Government Agent Reader SFW

Summary - Ultra Magnus falls in love with an human Agent after realizing she has a sweet side to her personality.

Warnings: Light Hurt/Comfort

Never have you ever thought you would be seeing real aliens when you first met the Autobots. Being one of the Agents from the US Government, you were assigned to see if Agent Fowler was doing his freaking job. That man has not gotten anything done to defeat the Decepticons that are trying to destroy the world. Now, you have been best friends with Fowler ever since college, but dang from what you have been hearing from your boss, he has been getting lazier and lazier. It was your job to see if he should be fired or not and get a replacement.

After a few months at the base, you have realized two things. One, the Autobots don't have enough recourses to even kill one Decepticon. Two, Fowler has been working his ass off for everyone to survive. Optimus was very kind to you when you arrived and introduced everyone to you. Ultra Magnus was professional, but you can tell he did not like your presence. The US government have been yelling at them about sitting on their afts, while also not providing anything for their survival. He has been warned by Fowler and Prime that humans don't understand what they were going through and so they will be very uncooperative if the bots even tried to explain themselves. "Prime sir, we should not be having anymore interference with these human leaders. Non of them have even came up once to listen to reason." He stared at Optimus with a pleading look, he didn't like to be similar to Ratchet, but he understood why Ratchet hated almost all humans. Optimus looked up from the data pad and gave him a stern look. "Ultra Magnus, I understand your lack of faith my friend, but you have to remember the humans that have helped us so far. Agent Fowler is one of the reasons we have not been kicked from this planet, the children have saved our lives, and Agent Y/n is here to help us get more supplies from the human's government if we give her reason that we are efficient enough."

Ultra Magnus hated that Optimus was right, but he was a bit suspicious of the last sentence. "I am sorry sir, but Agent y/n has not even once reported to the government in three month. I don't think we are up to her standards at all." Optimus closes his eyes to think. Magnus was right about that, you have not been really doing anything around the base except observe everyone's movements and work. Hell Ratchet has been quite annoyed by your presence since he has to stay at the base for most of the missions. He is holding on to you though, giving you hope. Only one person has been supportive of you, and that was Fowler. He told Optimus whole stories about you saving his sorry ass from college professors all the time. He told him many stories of you supporting him and even giving him a place to stay when he needed it the most. Fowler has said though you were a calculated person, and never really showed your emotions a lot. It was hard to tell if you are being nice or just straight cold. "We shall see Ultra Magnus, though I cannot confirm if she is as troubling as you say. I will talk to Agent Fowler once more, so please look over the kids."

When Optimus walked off, Magnus stayed around to make sure Miko wasn't going to prank Ratchet and helped Ralph with any questions he had about Cybertron. He than starts to hear the clicking of heels from the elevator. You had a clip board in hand and was already writing something down. Your h/c (hair color) hair looked all neat and your outfit seemed nice and custom made. Walking over to Ratchet, you ask for his latest findings from last night's mission and both of you started to talk about work. Honestly if Ratchet had a scale for which human was more annoying, you were probably around in the middle. He was able to keep a conversation with you, but from far away he would grumble about things he didn't like that you did. After a few minutes you walked over to Ralph and Ultra Magnus. You stood behind the couch and watched as Ralph was making a nice online form about his cultural findings. Of course, it wasn't public for other humans to see, but if he ever forgot about something he could always click over to his notes and see what he put down. "Ah, you are doing so well Ralph. Although you spells that wrong, the symbol you put down actually has a small line going across the bottom." You pointed out something on Ralph's computer and he gasps. "Oh crap! Your right! Dang I thought I studied that!" Magnus sees you smile for the first time. "Oh it's ok. It's impressive to see you learn so much already after only a week. Better than what I could do."

After you turn around, walking back to the railing from across the base to keep writing in your clip board, Magnus looks at Ralph confused. "What were you and Agent y/n talking about?" Ralph looks up at Magnus and shares his screen for him to see. "Oh? Y/n is teaching me how to read your alphabet! She knows a lot about Iaconian and helped me learn so I can surprise Optimus later! Don't tell him though." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You knew Iaconian?! When did you have the time to learn such a difficult language?! Magnus couldn't help, but be flabbergasted by the fact you took the time to learn Iaconian and finally had enough. Did you like them or not? Why were you not reporting to your bosses and why haven't you left yet? You were only here to stay for a week…why haven't you left yet? He was getting to the bottom of it one way for another. He excuses himself and walks over to you. You see that a shadow surrounds your body and looks up. "Oh, good evening Ultra Magnus." You put your pen away and stood up straight to give your full attention to him. Magnus narrows his eyes and leans down just a smidge to be a bit closure to your frame. Look he may not like you, but at the very least he did not like intimidating people who are not Decepticons. "I need to speak with you Agent y/n. You have been keeping secrets from Prime and the rest of us, but now all of sudden you are learning Iaconian? What is your motivation?"

The smile that grew on your face made him a bit taken a back by the reaction. The smile looked nice on you, but he wasn't going to tell you that. "I have been monitoring everyone's work so I can give a long report to the government if they should give you their energon findings." WHAT?! The government had not only supplies, but they had the one resource they have been dying to get this whole time?! He clenched his hands into fists and looked angry. "You have energon is your procession? That stuff is useless for your species. Why didn't you report us being useful sooner. We could use those energon cubes to help give us more energy to fight for your planet." Before he could get even more angry, you put a hand up to shut him up. "Do not worry, I have already reported to them about you all working your hardest even with such little food. They needed a better report from me just in case you were pretending to be efficient for a week, so they have extended my stay for five months. At the end of my stay I will be in a very important meeting with all the higher ups to give my findings. Then they will happily give you all the crates they have by helicopter or by truck, just matters how much they are willing to give you." He could not believe this right now. This was the worse news he could get from you and he is trying not to go ape shit. "I understand this could be frustrating right now, but understand I am trying to poke them as much as I can to give you what you need. All of you have past the bar. In my book I would have given you everything by now after the first week. Right now I can't do anything but listen to their orders so you can be granted free supplies. Oh, and Optimus told me about where he lived back on Cybertron, I was curious about your culture so I had Bumblebee and Ralph help me learn. I am now known as one of the only human translators for Cybertronians and Humans. Luckily it seems you all already know English, though I would not have minded to be your spokes person."

This kind of made his anger fade…Your voice was not cold to him anymore. It seemed…sweet. This was the most care he has heard from you and it made him feel things he didn't want to feel. "W-well I appreciate you trying your best from what you have." Did he just stutter?! Oh Primus no, he needs to control himself. Why was he feeling such lovely feelings for you now?! He was just pissed a moment ago! You snapped him out of his staring and giggled. "Awe you are too kind. I need to go to Fowler now. I will see you before you all charge for the night, ok?" He nods and watches you leave. Your laugh was so cute. He needs to stop himself from feeling this way before he says something he is going to regret.

...

Bonus: Ratchet glares at Ultra Magnus while he scans him. "So a professional lady who works at the top has taken an interest in our species, her personality is a sweet yet serious person who gets the work done before she does anything else?" Sighing, Ratchet grabs his data pad and walks over to Ultra Magnus who looks at him for an answer to his condition. "You are not sick, you are just an idiot who fell in love with a fleshy."

[secret-moonstruck]

THE SIREN'S CURSE | k.sn

Weekly challenge: secret-moonstruck x callmemonster68

— Pairing: sunoo x fem!reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Mermaids are cruel, they kill for pleasure, but she was naive when she fell in love.

— Genre: fantasy, light smut

— Warnings: sex, kidnapping, mention death.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

Mermaids are cruel, they kill for pleasure, Y/N was no different. All her existence she followed what should be done if see a man near the sea where mermaids live must kill him, men are cruel, they hunt mermaids and kill them.

The feeling of pride in getting rid of a creature that threatened her existence was incredible, she enjoyed herself as she lured them into the sea with her curse, enchanting them with her beauty, her sweet voice leading him to his death.

Normally they don't risked stay close to the beach, they lived further into the sea, but Y/I didn't like Being closer, watching the humans entertained her, she was too curious, she wanted to try the things she saw them eating, she wanted to wear the beautiful clothes and flashy accessories, in addition to the fact that whenever she saw someone getting too close to where she was she would curse him with her song, attracting him close by enchanting him with her appearance and making him follow her to the sea where she would see him agonizing to death. That was his favorite pastime.

The moon was beautiful shining over the night sky, the sea breeze calm as Y/N hummed one of her favorite melodies, watching the distant lights of the people on the beach, she took a while to notice his presence, it was a secluded place she didn't expect anyone there at that time, but as soon as she noticed him, a smile appeared on her face as she drew him closer. Y/N observed how beautiful he was, his appearance mesmerizing her, just like she normally did with her victims. When he finally reached her, her hands touched his face as she looked into his eyes ensuring that all he could see was her. 

- Be mine for eternity. - She whispered to him making him follow into the sea.

Just as she was about to make him plunge to his death Y/N ​​noticed something in his gaze, he wasn't under her curse, he was truly enchanted by her.

- I'll be yours if you're mine. - He said smiling at her, a beautiful, pure smile that made her doubt whether she was doing it right.

How could she kill him, he looked so pure, so angelic, she would be a monster if she destroyed someone like him.

- Escape, survive, never come back here again. - Y/N said in panic before disappearing into the sea, leaving him there stunned.

Every day the man who had bewitched her appeared there, looking for her, Y/N always ran away when she noticed his presence. But he still didn't give up, even if for a few seconds he wanted to see her.

Y/N was watching hidden behind some rocks while he was sitting on the beach, he seemed shaken by something, he had been drinking for a while, Y/N was already worried. When she saw him get up and head towards the sea she didn't think before getting out of the water, she knew that his weakened state in the water would attract mermaids who would try kill him, his tail disappeared.

He was transfixed by the sight of her transforming as she emerged from the sea, her naked body in the moonlight as she walked towards him. She threw herself at him, pinning him to her body to prevent him from going into the water.

- Please don't go, it's dangerous. - His voice covered in despair trying to save him.

- You really came. - A smile mixed with surprise and pride on his face. - I knew you would come for me.

When Y/N tried to move away she felt a twinge in her neck and then passed out.

Confusion, fear, anger, all kinds of feelings passed through her heart when Y/N woke up, she was naive, she always heard how cruel men were but still let herself be deceived by one, how foolish she was to fall in love with a human even though she knew they were dangerous. She should have killed him just like everyone else, she shouldn't have fallen for your fake innocence, she was stupid.

Finally working up the courage Y/N opened her eyes, she was in a beautiful room, it was all new to her, as she didn't know what a human's house was like, but she was too scared to think about how everything was different. She got up from the bed and saw herself in the mirror next to the bed, she was wearing a simple but pretty white dress, her hair falling in voluminous waves as always, but there were pretty embellishments on it, as well as a necklace with small crystals. decorating a heart, pretty bracelets with charms that made a pretty sound when she moved her hands, and rings on her fingers. Y/N was confused, it was like she was a doll that had been decorated.

- You finally woke up my love. - The man who had deceived her entered the room smiling happily when he saw her standing and pulling her into his arms.

- Who are you? - She was scared he asked walking away. - Why am I here? What do you want from me?

- I just brought you where you belong. - His expression was one of happiness and pride as if he was right. - You asked me to be yours, that you would be mine. But that wasn't possible if you weren't with me, was it? Now everything is as it should be, you belong here, with me.

- That's not what it meant... - you whispered, confused.

- Now that we are finally together, I need to know your name, my love. - He took her hand leading her to sit on the bed. - My name is Sunoo.

The soft touch of his hand on hers and his sweet smile almost made her forget what he had done and why she was there.

- My name is Y/N. - She replied scared.

- A beautiful name just like you. - Sunoo said before kissing her as if it were something common, natural.

Y/N should move away, he was crazy, it was wrong, she should run away from there, but she couldn't, at the same time as she was afraid and repudiated what he did, she wanted this for weeks while avoiding him. So instead of running away she just gave in.

Weeks have passed since Y/N was captured, she thought countless times how everything was so wrong, she thought about how to escape from there, she needed to return to the sea. She shouldn't have been there with him, what he did was horrible, he took her by force to that place, he was crazy, crazy about her, but crazy.

But every day that passed she gave in more, he was always so sweet, he never did anything bad to her, on the contrary, he did everything for her, always buying different foods, nice clothes, taking her to nice places, she completely forgot how she got there, it was all so normal, so natural, sometimes she forgot what he did.

Especially when they were at home comfortable on the couch watching TV while she was comfortable in his arms, him spoiling her and showing her how much he loved her. Especially when he kissed her and the whole world disappeared around her, when his hands traveled over her body causing goosebumps, when he pulled her onto his lap when the sweet kisses began to go further. But always pulling away when he knew he could lose control, he wanted her but would never do something against her will, even if she was so immersed in the moment he was afraid he might be doing something wrong to her.

It had been a long time since Y/N had been away from the sea, marks started to appear on her body signaling that she was weakening, she knew what it meant...if she didn't return to the sea soon her body wouldn't be able to handle it and she would die. She had been in human form too long, too long away from the sea. 

- Sunoo it's true, look at the marks, if I don't go back to the sea soon I won't last much longer, my body won't support this form any longer, I will die Sunoo, please let me go... I promise I will come back as soon as I recover, you know I love you, I will never abandon you.

- It's a lie, you never loved me. - Tears ran down his face. - You pretended to love me and now you're going to abandon me, I know that, you already abandoned me once.

- I didn't abandon you, I wanted to save you. I didn't know it was possible to be with you, but now I am, and I won't abandon you... if I go back to the sea I'll be fine and I'll be able to come back to you... but if I don't, then yes I will abandon you but not by choice, I will cease to exist. Don't you understand?

Sunoo's mind didn't let him understand what she was saying, he held on to the idea that it was a lie so he didn't allow her to leave.

Since the day he asked to return to the sea, he seemed to watch her 24 hours a day, afraid she would leave him.

A plan was all Y/N had, she knew she had failed to use her curse on Sunoo, but she decided to use all her remaining energy and try again, she just needed to seduce him, after spending the night with him and gaining his trust again, she would run away, and when she recovered, she would return to him just as she promised.

Y/N chose from the best clothes he had given her, she wasn't that confident in her curse, so she counted on everything she could to attract him with her beauty. She put on the clothes she found most attractive, wore the jewelry that most highlighted her beauty, makeup that marked all her mermaid features, emphasizing her look, using the perfume he loved. Her natural beauty was already mesmerizing, but she did everything to make herself as beautiful and attractive as possible.

She knew that Sunoo would arrive soon, so she began to sing her curse, so that as soon as he arrived she could hypnotize him.

Pretending to be distracted getting ready as if she hadn't noticed his presence, she felt him hug her from behind, his face in the crook of her neck inhaling her perfume before leaving a trail of kisses, before turning her towards him.

When their eyes met she stopped singing immediately, his eyes should have been glassy, ​​mesmerized by her, but they were normal.

- You this so beautiful to me. - His obsessive smile was back. - Do you know why you can't curse me? 

- I wasn't... - He interrupted her before she could try to convince him.

- Your curse doesn't work on me because it would create an illusion, a false love for you to deceive me, blind me... but I already love you, I'm already blinded by you, I don't need a curse to create an illusion of something real.

His hands lovingly arranging her hair as he admired her.

- You prepared so much for me that I won't refuse. - Right after he finished speaking, he kissed her, a hungry kiss covered by desire, a desire that he pushed away for a long time, but not anymore.

While kissing her he guided her to the bed making her lie down carefully without ever breaking the kiss, she could feel the heat that emanated from his body over hers, the desire with which his hands removed the clothes from their bodies, leaving them naked so they could finally feel themselves against each other, his hands running gently over her soft skin causing goosebumps all over her body.

When he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes she knew that even if she died there, that was where she wanted to be, under his gaze and his body, under his love and desire, that was all Y/N needed, her life had always been empty until she met him, nothing else mattered.

Her eyes closing as she tried to control her breathing as he kissed every part of her body, loving every little part of her, causing all kinds of sensations that she couldn't even imagine until now, increasing her desire for him.

- Sunoo, please. - Y/n said between sighs, she needed him.

He kissed her again as he slid inside her, their bodies seemed to belong together as they moved in sync, the heat emanating through the room as the sounds filled his ears, her singing was nothing compared to her moans, that was hypnotizing him, he wanted to hear more, and that's what he got. When they finally reached climax he was smiling in wonder at what had finally happened, but his smile disappeared as soon as he noticed the marks that were beginning to spread across Y/N's body and face, as her body lost strength.

- I really loved you Sunoo. - Y/N said before fainting.

- Y/N, no, please Y/N wake up, don't do this, don't leave me, you promised to be mine forever, this isn't forever, you can't leave me.

Sunoo was in a panic, trying to get her to wake up, he did the only thing he could think of, he needed to take her to the sea. Yes Y/N said he would be fine at sea, that's what he needed to do.

He drove out of control, his car stopping almost in the water. He took her in his arms and took her running to the sea, while asking for help, he knew there were other mermaids there, you had already said that, they would know what to do, they could help her.

- I warned her that she should have killed you when she had the chance, you killed her, you are exactly like all humans, a cruel monster, without a soul, she should not have spared your life. Look what you did to her.

The beautiful mermaid stared at him with hatred in her eyes, her voice, despite being covered in anger and resentment, was low and beautiful, sounding like a curse.

- You need to help her, she can't die, I can't lose her. Please, I beg you save. - He he begged crying in despair while other mermaids appeared staring at him with the same deadly look.

- It's too late for her, the marks have already taken over her entire body, she only has a few minutes, nothing can save her. You got what you wanted when you took her out of the sea, you killed her.

- NO, NEVER, I WANTED TO LOVE HER NOT KILL HER. - He looked at Y/N's unconscious face as she cried. - I was stupid, I should have believed her, but I was selfish, self-centered... a monster like you said. Please, there must be a way.

- Give it to me, let's see if something can be done, but it's practically impossible, we've never seen anyone reach this state and survive.

Sunoo kissed her before allowing the mermaids to take her away.

He was sitting on the edge of the beach crying in despair, guilt and hatred taking over him as he thought about how selfish he was, she warned him so many times, asked him to trust her…he was so stupid…he talked so much about loving her and killed her, talked so much about her leaving him, and now this happened. He would never have her again, and it was all because of his stupidity, he couldn't have her by his side... if he couldn't have her with him in life, he would follow her in death.

Being gnawed by guilt he entered the sea, this is what should have happened from the beginning, if she hadn't spared his life, he would have died at sea and she would still be alive.

The mermaid carrying Y/N was startled when Y/N's body seemed to receive a shock, the marks disappearing before she opened her eyes.

- I need to save him. - It was the first thing Y/N said when she woke up. - I can feel it, he's here, he's dying.

- No, he almost killed her, you need to stay away from him. - They tried to stop her but it was too late, Y/N had already left leaving them behind while she searched.

When she found him he had already passed out, sinking into the sea, she kissed him trying to help him catch his breath, but it was no use, so she quickly took him out of the water.

Y/N kept fighting to bring him back to life, until finally he started breathing again and his eyes opened.

- I found you even in death. - Sunoo said caressing Y/N's face.

- You're not dead Sunoo… neither am I, we're fine. - Y/N kissed him.

As she kissed him, Y/N felt a tightness in her chest and then her tail disappeared, that wasn't supposed to happen, she was still in contact with the water.

- What…. - Y/N was confused, Sunoo took off her shirt to cover her. 

- It's real, the legend...he really loves her. - One of the mermaids said

- What are you talking about? - Y/N asked confused.

- If a human and a mermaid really love each other, not just any love, one worthy of sacrifice. The mermaid will become human and will be able to live with her love. - The mermaid continued speaking. - This legend was forgotten, as many innocent mermaids believed they were experiencing love and were deceived.

- So I'm human now? - Y/N asked.

- Yes, now you are no longer one of us. - Upon saying this, the mermaids left, leaving them there, alone.

- Now you really belong to me. - Sunoo said smiling then kissed her.

They really liked going to the beach, even though she became human, Y/N still had a connection with the sea.

Sunoo watched her while Y/N was in the water just relaxing, his smile disappearing, he felt guilty, it was obvious that sometimes she missed her tail, and he hated that he took that away from her, he couldn't forgive himself for almost killing her and he also blamed himself for Y/N losing her tail.

But for Y/N none of that mattered, she really loved Sunoo and being with him was all she needed, she would never hesitate to trade her tail for him. For he was her everything now.

Next challenge: Under the Spell of the Moon

[shysuccubusstuff]

Xavier meeting the real you pt. 1:

Summary: So what if Xavier finally met the real you?

Note: Lately, I've seen several tiktoks of people talking about how the men of L&DS wouldn't look their way if they were actually real... WHICH I DISAGREE. Happy Valentines day by the way, I've been so busy and uni has barely started...

Xavier:

Xavier, who just as he is about to finish killing the last Wanderer gets swallowed by a strange portal, the light at the end blinding him for a few seconds. As he slowly got used to the new source of light, he soon noticed something. The place he had appeared was definitely not the place he had known before. Slowly, he got up, his legs almost giving up as he slowly looked out the window at the room, the few things that he was able to see were much different from what he had seen before. The buildings were much shorter, even if the cars and people that he was able to see were similar to the ones he had grown accustomed to see. Finally, he turned around, seeing you in your bed. Your face was completely flushed, trying your best to accommodate the few strands of hair that were falling in your hair while you used your other hand to try and hide your (slightly) shameful pyjamas from him. Your mouth had become completely dry, your phone still in your hand as you tried to stop yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs.

"... Where am I?" Xavier finally spoke, his hands still wrapped around his sword, his hunter uniform torn in a few places. "Who are you?" His voice sounded strangely familiar, almost as if you were listening to the first chapters of the story you loved so much.

"I... What in the...?" You slowly looked towards the screen, noticing how the game had suddenly crashed, a strange screen freezing the game just before you finished the stage. "I... I don't know, I really don't know, I was... I was doing my... and suddenly you were... you were here! With your... your sword, and your-- your uniform, and that... that shiny grey hair-- Anyways! I really have no clue how you-- you moved out." You kept trying to get the game to restart, opening and closing the game as an attempt to maybe... get an error and reset everything? At the same time, you kept pinching yourself, how could you evnen imagine having THE Xavier, the pretty boy next door in your own room in the middle of the night? Xavier slowly blinked, almost as if he had started to comprehend the situation he was in.

"I suppose this must be some kind of... effect of the protocore field. Since my phone doesn't even work, I suppose I will try to find somewhere to stay for now, I'm sure I will be able to find somewhere nearby." Just as Xavier was about to leave your room, you grabed him by his gloved hand, your body moving towards him as if you were the one inside the game.

"Wait! I think you should stay, I doubt your phone even works here, how am I supposed to find you? I can let you stay here, my room is fine-- Or maybe the sofa? I don't really know which one you prefer." Xavier stood confused for a second, finally deciding that your idea was the most plausible one, deciding to accept, apologising for the inconvenience as he finally hid his sword. "You should take a bath, I can try to search for some clothes that could fix you? I'll get to it, the bathroom is next to the--Oh right, you have no idea, I will show you the apartment" You quickly got up, ignoring the stupid pajama you had decided to wear that night since it was the confiest, after all, who would see you like that?...

Anyways, you moved around your small flat with Xavier following you behind, his face making small expressions each time you showed him something that he had never seen before. As soon as you finished showing him, you left him in the living room, almost running to your room to search around your wardrobe, finally being able to see some oversized clothes you had bought a few weeks ago. As soon as you gave them to him, he thanked you, making his way towards the bathroom. That was when you finally noticed something, the uniform had been torned, with a few of them even reaching his skin, the bleeding had already stopped, but the wound was still there. "If... If you don't mind, I would like to heal your wounds, I think they can get infected because of the battle." Xavier's eyes fixed on you, almost being able to tell what he was thinking just from the slight change on his gaze.

"That's fine, I will let you know when I'm done." With that finally set and done, the two of you moved to where you had to, with you still trying your best to understand just what the hell had happened with the game. A few minutes after, Xavier called out to you, making you get up from your bed so you could take the kit, rushing to where Xavier was. Shortly after entering the living room, you noticed something, Xavier was sitting on the sofa, his whole chest being unclothed as a few drops of water still fell from his hair. You swallowed, trying your best to avoid screeching as if you were some kind of animal in heat. After all, you would have been completely allowed to do so in your room, still, you clenched your fist, taking a deep breath as you sat down in the sofa, silently, you opened the kit, taking out the hydrogen peroxide and starting to disinfect the numerous wounds that were covering his arms and chest. You were confused, your mind rushing as you tried to find a reason why would Xavier do something like that for someone like Xavier to be able to undress himself like that.

"I'm sorry for annoying you once more." Xavier kept quite for a few minutes, the silence only being broken each time he let out a low hiss when the sting became too much. "This must be uncomfortable. After all, we met just a few minutes ago, I know this sounds crazy, but you remind me of... a certain someone." Xavier smiled softly, making your heart ache a bit as you realised that his memories were still filled with memories of the fictional "you". You hurried your hands, trying your best to not feel your heart slowly break as you kept reminding yourself of just how different you were from the you in game. Despite your poor attempt, Xavier was able to notice the change in your demeanor, his eyes drifting to your face as he saw you. "I did not mean that in a wrong way, I'm sorry if that was rude." Xavier clenched his hands, his expression changing to one of concern. "I... I'm just worried, I left her there, in the protofield, she's more than capable of fighting alone, I know that--" You were finally done with the small treatment, closing the kit as Xavier kept talking about the charming you he had fallen in love with.

"It's normal that you're worried about her, she's... your lover I assume." Xavier's face reddened for a moment, making him almost choke on the glass of water you had brought to him. At the same time, he looked confused, how was it possible for someone that seemed to be from a completely different universe to know so much about his reality? Still, he smiled with kindness, taking the sweater you had given to him as soon as you were done. "I will take my leave, you can sleep here, I left a few blankets, let's talk tomorrow. Rest well." You rushed to your room with the kit still in your hands. You left it in your desk, your eyes starting to get a bit wet because of the heartache you felt. You knew it didn't make sense, but how could you not react like that after you had finally meet the person you considered to be the love of your life? (At least if he had been actually real...). Confused by the past hour events, you threw yourself to your bed, trying your best to fall asleep without the soft voice of that sweet silver haired boy.

[hellfireloserclub]

Bottoms up

written for the feb pop up challenge @steddieholidaydrabbles

and to challenge myself to write this in two hours

Prompt: love

rated G

Tags : alcohol, dumbass for dumbass, fluff

It had seemed like such a good idea. A road trip to visit Robin on campus, a few days away from the boring day-to-day grind that had become the everyday norm back in Hawkins. Steve had to admit, it had been one of Eddie's better ideas right until it wasn’t anymore. He had been feeling on top of the world as the three of them had danced around Robin's dorm room earlier. Finally he felt like he had regrown a missing limb, part of him had been drowning and had come up for air for the first time in forever. Bottoms up, was very much the stuff of Robin's wildest dreams. They had barely made it through the door when Robin had been pulled away by one of her classmates, leaving Eddie and Steve to work out where the bar was and try to negotiate their way through the throng of sweaty dancing bodies that swayed under the disco lights.

Of course they had descended on the one weekend Robin was caught up doing things with her pride group, not that Steve minded, but he had kind of hoped that they could have spent the weekend doing things together, not sharing their well-earned quality time with strangers. As it stood he had spent most of his time with Eddie, something he could have done without driving across state. He had spent last night asleep next to Eddie on the mattress in the back of the van. Trying his hardest to not question the suspicious stains on both the mattress and the sleeping bag that Eddie had hastily thrown over them both to stave off the cold. Steve couldn’t say he minded that much when he woke up with a mouth full of Eddie’s untamable mane and his body starfished on top of him. He told himself it was because he was missing Robin, and Eddie wasn’t a replacement, just a place for that desperate need for closeness he craved to find refuge. He doubted anyone would believe him though.

Sure they could have forked out for a motel, but Eddie had pleaded his case, saying it would be like camping… and hadn't Steve promised him he would take him camping? Steve had a feeling that it was more to avoid the strange looks that the two of them had to endure whenever they tried to book a room. Eddie always used the excuse that Seve looked like he was turning tricks when you stood him next to a fucked up mess like himself.

Steve hated it when Eddie talked about himself like that, especially when right now most of the eyes that were looking their way were very much not looking at Steve. Two drinks down and on to the third and Steve was regretting the way the night had turned. A dark cloud had descended over him, and he couldn’t put his finger on why? Sure he had Robin back at his side, he should be happy, but right now all he could think about was Eddie. Eddie who had finally caved when the seventh incredibly handsome guy of the night had asked him to dance. Despite appearances, Eddie could dance when he wanted, drunk or stoned and bopping around Steve’s front room to many cheesy or heavy rock songs. Swaying Steve in his arms like he was some damsel that Eddie was destined to sweep off her feet. Now in the strobing lights and under the disco ball, here in a gay club miles away from anyone who knew them, Eddie seemed to have found a shining knight to sweep off his feet instead. Steve’s drink soured in his mouth, as his thoughts record scratched to a clattering halt. He should be the one that Eddie was wooing, he should be the one that Eddie was dancing with all eyes on them. He would call himself stupid, but Eddie had told him he wasn’t allowed to do that anymore, not on his watch. How had he not realised that he was in love with Eddie before now?

Robin grinned as Steve pushed his drink into her hand, “Oh! Is it time?” Robin asked, “Did you finally?” she nodded towards Eddie, “I was starting to think I was going to have to spell it out to you” she pushed him on his way “Go get em tiger.”

Eddie caught his eye as he joined the dancefloor, his eyebrow raising in a question as he looked over his Knights shoulder. He must have read something in Steve’s expression because he dropped his hands from the dashing man’s waist and excused himself to make his way to Steve. Ignoring the fallen noblemans irritated calls as he tried to follow him.

“Something wrong?” Eddie asked leaning in to make himself heard over the pounding sound of the speakers. Like a magnet Steve’s hand’s moved to Eddie’s waist, a possessiveness he hadn’t realised he had until he saw an active threat making him stake his claim.

“Not anymore.” he let his lips ghost across Eddie’s ear as he lent in to speak. He felt Eddie shiver under his touch, face turning to look at him properly.

“Yeah why’s that?”

“Saved something stupidly important that I love from falling through my fingers like a dumbass.” Steve said, sweeping one hand up Eddie’s side and twisting it into his hair. Eddie’s eyes sparkled but not as much as his smile.

“No calling yourself a dumbass either, unless that someone you love isn’t me then you can just go ahead and-” Steve didn’t give him a chance to finish. He had his own prince sweep off his feet, starting with a kiss, and hopefully an upgrade from the back of the van to a hotel on the way back to Hawkins.

[dirtytransmasc]

"You are the light It's not on you, it's in you Don't you ever in your motherfucking life dim your light for nobody" — St. Chroma - Tyler, The Creator

thinking about this in relation to Spider.

thinking about this good kid had the worst assumed about him his whole life. his very light was denied no matter what he did, no matter how good, how sweet, how kind, how gentle, how helpful, how smart, how caring, how much he sacrificed, how accepting he was of his treatment. the worst was assumed.

he wasn't human enough. too human. he wasn't Na'vi enough. he was too wild. too feral. to unkempt. he was a demon, deep down in his blood, he was always a demon. nothing would take that away. one day he'd always become his blood. his father's sins. his father's son.

but he continued to bask in his own light, in the light of his siblings. he was good. he watched out for them. he fought for them. he was one with them. he fought for their people, his people, no matter how much they denied him. he kept them safe. he gave himself for them again and again.

and then he was taken, actively abandoned by Jake and Neytiri— not arguing on whether or not they were justified in that. I think an action can be justified and wrong. and regardless, they actively abandoned a child, their responsibility or not, to be left for dead, to whatever fate awaited him at the RDA's hands. justification will never change that. they actively turned away from him in his time of need. and this was not the first time Jake wanted to leave Spider behind —left in the hands of his father and the RDA.

he was tortured. he was left in a cell. he was toted around as a glorified prisoner. made to be a translator and an educator to soldiers planning to pillage his planet and hurt his people and kill the closest thing to have to family. he witnessed crimes and violence and suffering. was forced to "aid" in it. tried his best to soften the blow.

and somehow, in that time, that was the first time he had felt parental love. parental affection. actually mattering to an adult, even just a little. he's not stray to Quaritch, just a son. even if he wasn't a perfect, or even a good father. but he was a father.

and at the end of the day, even when he is faced with more death and punishment, he is still so bright, so so bright. light itself casts down upon him. he feels love. he fights for his people. has mercy. is willing to give him life for his figment of a family, for his sister.

and that light will continue to shine, even when he is exhausted, even if he wishes it would dim, so he can rest. even when it is more than he can handle. even when he doesn't always know exactly what to do with it. when it hurts him.

but Eywa will always remind him not to let that light die. to keep burning on, bringing golden light to her world.

[empressofthewind]

Rating Death Note characters by how much I'd trust them to watch my drink at a bar

(Saw someone do this with Teen Wolf and loved the concept. Here is the original)

Light: 10/10. If we're talking Normal!Light, I think he'd be very trustworthy on this front. Taking Kira!Light into account might change things, but I don't think drink spiking is even a consideration in that scenario; if he wants me dead, I won't be making it back in time to finish the drink anyway.

L: 0/10. I adore him but he does not care enough about anyone to bother doing this for them. I'd come back and he'd be like "yes I watched your drink" while it's sitting 20 feet away from him and he's staring soulfully into a coffee cup. May even spike it himself just to study me under the effects of a drug.

Misa: 5/10. Depends on the circumstances. If Light didn't like me (or, in her eyes, liked me a little TOO much) she is absolutely not looking out for me. Otherwise I feel like she'd happily do it but may get distracted.

Mello: 7/10. I think he'd do it provided that I could offer him something in return.

Near: 3/10. Listen. I DO trust him. I just don't trust that his presence is enough of an incentive for someone not to spike the drink.

Mikami: 11/10. If he sets his mind to something, by God he will do it. He is guarding that shit with his life.

Takada: 7/10. She's not really a girl's girl but I'd trust her if she had reason to look out for me.

Sayu: 9/10. I couldn't rate her a 10 since she's a child for half the series, but older Sayu has for sure got my back. Would buy me another one if anything happened to it.

Soichiro: 8/10. Generally speaking, I'd say he's the most trustworthy on this list. Loses points because he may try to talk me out of drinking in the first place.

Matsuda: 6/10. Would very enthusiastically volunteer to do it but would be so anxious about it, I'd feel like a burden on him. He is not enjoying himself at the bar as long as he has this task to worry about.

Task Force: 10/10. I think any of the other Task Force members would be super reliable. Mogi would be one of my top picks out of anyone on this list; no one is coming within a 10-mile radius of my drink on his watch.

SPK: 10/10. Similarly, I think all the SPK's surviving members would be very trustworthy. If Ill Ratt is in the mix, the rating drops to -15.

Watari: 9/10. The guy kind of sucks, but I think he'd do it. Loses points anyway for doing fucked-up experiments on children.

Naomi: 100/10. Spaced out thinking about her and forgot what I was supposed to be rating her on.

Matt: 0/10. That man is watching his Gameboy, not my drink.

Rem: 10/10. Fiercely loyal, and has no reason not to look out for me. May even kill anyone who tries.

Ryuk: 0/10. Absolutely not. He would let someone spike it just to see what happens.

Higuchi: -1000/10. He is the one spiking it.

[it-was-summer]

Nevertheless (I'm In Love With You) 〰 2

A/N: I like to pretend that Spencer is a wanderer?? Like he thinks of a place and just starts walking without thinking twice. Just like me fr. Two grown adults... struggling with their emotions. Yummy... yummers to those who use that word (my bf). I actually proofread this bitch. Happy late Valentine's Day!!!! Hope you guys like it!

Link to the Ao3: Nevertheless (I'm In Love With You) Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Link to the: Nevertheless (I'm In love With You) Masterlist

Previous chapter: Enemies (If You Can Call It That) You are on: Friends (Associates at Best) -> (Better off as) Lovers Tags: Use of She/Her pronouns (I apologize), talk of forensic science, norovirus mention!!, the flu... my enemy, spencer has a 'oh shit,' moment, Spencer being a little oblivious to jokes and his feelings, gossiping students, something else?, this is a very soft and light fic.

Genre: Slight Enemies to friends to lovers. ForensicsProfessor!Reid x ForensicsProfessor!Reader

Plot: Two professors run into each other at a museum. One invites the other to coffee. They enjoy each other's company, and a friendship blossoms—a friendship teeming with affection.

Word Count: 6,414

Friends (Associates at Best)

Serial killers seldom rest during the holidays. Spencer has spent countless Halloweens, Christmases, and Birthdays working BAU cases. This is the first time in a long time that he can sit at home and not hover around waiting for his phone to ring… and he’s bored. 

Considering how fast his mind runs, the boredom comes and goes, but it’s still there. He feels lazy, like he should be doing some work. He’s planned out a rough outline of his lesson plans for the Spring Semester, updated his syllabus, and sent emails to his cohorts two weeks in advance. 

Now, he was just killing time for another week. Years ago, he would have begged for this kind of solitude. He could always catch up on some reading. However, the need to engage in some sort of social activity won’t leave him. 

He almost finds it laughable when he pieces it together. He isn’t bored. He’s lonely, and he blames all those hours spent surrounded by students and faculty. 

He pulls on his trench coat, tucks a technical book in the pocket, and pulls gloves on as he haphazardly drapes his purple scarf around his neck before heading out the door. He tries to think of things he’s never done in the city– everything he’s held off. 

He’s done the sightseeing, the occasional movie in the park, and trains to New York City; maybe he just needs to be out of the apartment. After all, he’s technically already seen seven people— mission complete. 

Spencer sighs as he pushes on. His feet take him to the metro, where he takes the Red line that will eventually take him to the Smithsonian Museum of American History. There are patches of ice on the sidewalk as he walks toward the entrance, happy to take his gloves off and stuff them in his pocket as he checks for new exhibits. 

He enjoys the electricity hall; it was a nice way to kill time. If he was being honest, there wasn’t a plan. He’s still debating the activity as he heads down to the second floor, his eyes scanning for something new, hoping it will catch his eye when he sees a familiar head of hair— or at least he hopes it is. 

He watches as you pace outside one of the exhibits on your phone and finds himself smiling as he sees the exhibit’s topic— Forensic Science on Trial. He wonders if you’re here just for this one exhibit, and that makes you better than him because he doesn’t have anything resembling a plan for his day. 

He watches you briefly, silently debating approaching you and saying hello. He’s sure you won’t want to see him, but when you hang your phone up and look up, you spot him almost instantly. Your eyes widen, and your brows furrow momentarily before glancing back at the exhibit, smiling, and walking over to him. So much for thinking you wouldn’t want to see him. 

Spencer can feel his lips start to twitch upwards as you walk over to him. You’re wearing a trench coat frighteningly similar to his, and your gloves peek out of your left pocket— purple. He finds these accidental similarities amusing, and it’s clear on his face as you stop in front of him. 

You notice his gaze falling on your coat and follow it, looking slightly confused before you realize it's the same dark brown as Spencer’s. Your head snaps up, and you point at his coat with a goofy smile. “Woah, we should get Dr. Matthew in on this matching action. It’ll be like a faculty spirit day.” Then you pause. “Or a cult.” 

Spencer scoffs a little at the idea, a look of confusion in his eyes, “Cult for what exactly?” 

“Trench coats?” 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

“I apologize for being enthusiastic about something. It’ll never happen again.” With that, Spencer gives you a playful raise of his eyebrow before shaking his head. You chuckle, your cheeks warm. “Are you here for the exhibit?” 

Spencer’s eyes leave yours to look at the exhibit steps behind you, silently debating lying and telling you yes– a vain attempt to hang around you a little longer– but the idea sours the longer he thinks about it. With a shake of his head, he lets out a little, “Not exactly, I was…” He trails off briefly, not wanting to say he feels bored. He’s sure any sane professor would hate him if he says he misses work. 

“Bored?” You finish for him, watching his cheeks turn pink. You give him a tentative smile, silently wondering how fast that mind of his works. Of course, he’d be bored. You got stir-crazy after having a few days of nothing to do. Spencer probably got cabin fever in a few hours. You gave him a shrug of your shoulders, “I get it.” 

Spencer drew his lips into a small line, nodding. “But I would love to accompany you. If you’d… let me?” 

He watches as your nose scrunches up, acting as though the idea perturbs you before you let out a soft chuckle, “If you insist.” Then, you turn on your heel and walk back towards the exhibit. 

Spencer happily follows, hands in his pockets as his long legs soon surpass you with long, easy strides. He watches as you walk a little faster to catch up with him, and he’s trying not to find the action funny– honest! But he can’t help the grin that stretches across his face. 

You groan, and then you do something surprising. He watches as you look up at him, your eyes pleading silently, brows furrowed just a bit, and his heart clenches in friendly adoration. He gives you a mocking look of exasperation before slowing down and settling into a stride beside you. He doesn’t miss the smile you give him as the two of you start to explore the exhibit. 

“So, it’s split into three sections.” You hold up three fingers, “ ‘Of people,’” He watches as you put down one finger, “‘By people,’” Then another, “‘For people.’” Then you put down your hand. Your eyes focus as you walk toward an ancient-looking polygraph machine. 

Spencer's eyes linger on you as you admire the machine silently. Organic conversations and reading rooms were always difficult for him. Whenever he tried to be conversational, his words came out awkward—too forced. That didn’t stop him from trying anyway. “Do you come here often?” 

Your back straightens with that, casting him a judgmental look over your shoulder, “Are you trying to hit on me?” 

His cheeks quickly set ablaze, a deep red against his pale skin as he stutters, “W–What? No! No, I meant, do you come to this museum a lot? The American History Museum.” He stammers out, heart pounding.

You’re surprised at how easy it is to make him flustered, and you hate that you enjoy the sight much more than you should. He frowns softly, almost pouting, as he watches the wicked smile that consumes your previously judgmental glare. “Stop that.” He hisses out, his voice cracking with embarrassment. 

“But it’s so easy.” You whine. Spencer gives you an annoyed look, his head tilting to the side to look down at you with displeasure. You sigh and throw your hands up dramatically. “Fine, take away all my fun.” 

“Thank you,” he chirps back, the warmth in his cheeks fading remarkably slow. ��So, do you?” 

You move your head side-to-side, trying to count up all the moments you’ve been in this museum as he follows you to another artifact on display. Your voice is low, trying to be courteous to the small group of older women on your right. “Not often, no. What about you?” 

“I like the electricity hall.” 

You groan a little, a hint of amusement in your misery. “You would.” 

“What’s wrong with the electricity hall?” His brows furrow, his eyes flitting over to an arsenic kit. 

“Nothing! It’s simply not the best thing in this museum.” 

“Says the sporadic visitor.” 

“Yes, well, the sporadic visitor is right.” You scoff out, eyes studying a microdynameter carefully. 

Spencer's eyes stay on you, studying your side profile before he bites, “Well, what is the best thing here?” 

“Entertainment nation.” 

He rolls his eyes; that’s everyone’s favorite. He feels surprisingly stubborn as he starts to list other exhibits. “There’s Inventing in America,” 

You shake your head. “Nope.” You pop the ‘p,’ “Entertainment Nation.” 

“American Democracy?” 

“Enter–” You pause, pretending to think. “-tainment nation.” 

He frowns at your stubbornness. “The Star-Spangled Banner?” 

You sigh, turning to face him and narrowing your eyes. He raises his hands and nods, “Entertainment nation, fine.” He laughs. He then pauses and snaps his fingers, “Oh! The First Ladies.” 

You look off towards the ceiling, a low ‘mmm’ coming from your closed lips before you shake your head. “No, it’s Entertainment Nation.” 

Spencer sighs, walking around you to examine a framed court document. “Uninspiring,” he jokes a little. 

He smiles when he hears you let out an annoyed grunt, turning on your heel to walk closer to him. “I’m sorry, Dorothy’s red slippers are uninspiring?” You scoff out in a whisper of disbelief. 

He waves his hand with a mischievous look, “Apologies. Mainstream.” 

“It was the first technicolor movie!” 

“Actually, the first technicolor movie was in 1917 called, ‘The Gulf Between.’” He corrects you, his eyebrows shooting up with surprise at the playful glare you’re giving him. 

“Well, it is still an American Classic." You cross your arms over your chest. “I thought we were friends.” 

Spencer smiles, a laugh bubbling up in his throat. “If I remember correctly, the last time I called us friends, you called us associates. " He then licks his lips quickly. “At best!” Then, Spencer’s breathy laughter fills the exhibit, and you’re more than happy to shush him. 

-

The weekend before classes start, Spencer is deep cleaning his apartment. The thought of deep cleaning his apartment hadn’t left his head all morning, so he started the process at noon. He’s scrubbing down his bedroom door when he hears the familiar ‘ding’ of his –often neglected– cell phone. 

He scrunches his nose, trying to ignore it, his hands stuttering slightly. Then it dings again, and he’s sure it’s the team. He sniffles softly, the smell of pine sol fresh in the air as he pulls off the rubber gloves Garcia had gifted him four Christmases ago. 

The screen doesn’t display Penelope’s contact, nor Emily’s; instead, it shows yours. His fingers scramble to open the message, his eyes reading the text you’ve sent him at the speed of light, ‘Are you a fan of coffee?’ 

He feels his lips quirk into a light smile as he reads the following text directly beneath. ‘This is me asking you to coffee. Say yes so we can keep pretending to be friends.’ 

Despite feeling a little taken aback by the fact that you thought the two of you were simply pretending to be friends, he lets out an amused scoff. With a shake of his head, he sets his phone face down and picks up his gloves. However, just as he’s about to slide them back on, he finds himself tossing them on the table and reaching for his phone. 

He doesn’t feel like himself as he texts back a hasty, ‘Where?’ 

The ‘where’ in question is a small coffee shop two blocks away. Spencer knows he could have ignored the text and finished his cleaning, but for some reason, he’s happy –concerningly so— to abandon his half-cleaned apartment. 

The cold bites at the tips of his ears, and the wind wildly whips against the sensitive skin until he’s in the shop. He doesn’t spot you immediately, his eyes watering a little due to the cold gusts of wind on the street. After a few blinks, his eyes land on you. You’re wearing that same trench coat and thick knitted multi-colored scarf, your eyes transfixed on the window. 

He wonders if you were watching for him. Maybe you were nervous about him not showing? Though that possibility seemed slim. He clears his throat softly as he approaches the counter-height chair next to yours. When you hear it, your chin immediately tilts up toward him, your eyes shining, “Smells like snow,”

No hello. No greetings. Just “‘smells like snow.’” Nonetheless, the seemingly random comment makes him grin, slightly lopsided, as he sets down his messenger bag on the seat next to you. “Petrichor.” He says simply. 

You snap your fingers. “Yes! I always forget the word.” Then you take him in, your eyes trailing up towards his incredibly tousled hair. Your lips form an understanding smile. “The wind did a number on you, too, huh?” 

Spencer scans your appearance for imperfections but finds none, “Too?” 

Your smile broadens with that, finding that you like how he always looks into your eyes when he’s talking to you. “Well, I carry around a brush.” You explain, patting your bag gently. 

His lips form a silent ‘oh’ before he hears your name being called by the barista. Your face brightens as you slide off the seat and happily walk over to get your cup of coffee— a sweet, warm latte. 

You turn to tell Spencer to order something, but he beats you to the punch, already walking up to the front counter to order a drink. You hum softly as you head back to your previous seat in front of the window. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure why you invited Dr. Reid to coffee. You had plenty of other friends you could have reached out to, but after spending a whole day with him at the Smithsonian American History Museum, you found his presence calming. Being around him made something inside of you become still— quiet. It was… nice. 

You wondered if you had the same effect on him, though you knew that you’d rather die than ask him the question directly. For now, it would have to be a mystery to you, and you simply hoped that you weren’t annoying your coworker. 

He didn’t seem annoyed. His hazel eyes held yours in conversation, his body leaned into yours, and sometimes —when he couldn’t hear you well enough— he would lean his head down a little with a gentle ‘I’m sorry?’. A nagging voice inside you noted how attractive that action was, yet you attempted to shove the thought into the deepest recesses of your mind.

Nevertheless, seemingly against your will, your eyes slowly left the window’s view. You peer over your right shoulder, watching Spencer as he pulls out his card to pay the barista behind the counter. You notice the polite smile dancing on his lips, strands of brunette hair slowly falling into his eyes. 

Your lips form a smile as you watch how he pushes the hair out of his face, and— that’s enough! 

You blink rapidly, turning your face back toward the window and forcing yourself to stare at the windy winter streets of DC. You prop your elbows up on the wood counter, leaning your face into your hands to rub out the growing tension between your brows. 

“Everything alright?” Spencer’s worried voice spooks you, eliciting a tiny gasp from your lips. A gasp he seems to find amusing as he carefully sets his cup of coffee down on the wooden countertop with a smile. 

“I’m fine, just a headache.” You groan, picking up your latte and taking a delicate sip. 

“Have you been getting enough sleep lately?” 

You lick some foam off your lip, eyes trailing up towards the ceiling as Spencer sits beside you. “I believe so. I’m sure it is just the thought of the Spring Semester beginning in two days.” 

Spencer’s eyes linger on you, how you look down at your cup and then at him. He’s sure something is on your mind. He doesn’t know you well enough to determine what it is, and he wants to accept your answer with a simple nod, but he can’t help the urge to pry.

The following silence seems slightly tense, “You don’t strike me as the type to be nervous about teaching new students.”

Your lips spread into a slow grin as you shake your head. “No, I’m not.” Your fingers slowly trace the handle of your cup. “I don’t know, it's just a feeling I can’t shake— foreboding.” You chuckle at that, rolling your eyes a little at your words. “It isn’t important, just first-day jitters.”

Spencer let out an appreciative hum, the sound low and soft, as he compared your feelings toward the semester starting to his own. He’s always loved school, and learning new information brought him immense comfort. Teaching was a newer passion, but a passion all the same. He loved it. But he could still understand some of what you were feeling. 

Before he can express his understanding, a long sigh escapes you. “You ever miss it?” Your voice sounds far away as you stare out the coffee shop’s window. 

“What?” 

“Profiling. The BAU.” 

Spencer’s eyes follow your gaze, watching a young woman clutch her partner's hand. A slight ache in his chest makes him think of everything he’s gained… everything he’s lost. “I miss certain aspects of the job, yes.” 

“Such as?” You turn your head to look at him. 

“My team. I still see them, but not as much as I used to.” Spencer blinks, finding the words strange to say out loud. Adjusting to teaching was easy, but he missed his friendships. He missed his family. He missed their laughs, easy touches, and dependability. He missed being silently understood. “It’s hard for me to connect with strangers. I’m not exactly a social butterfly.” 

He can hear the smile in your voice before he sees it. “I think you’re turning it around.” 

You watch his head turn to face you, his warm honey eyes looking particularly amused. “Yeah?” he rasps out in a shy tone. 

You nod happily, “Yeah.” His smile grows at that, and you can feel your heart squeezing inside your chest. “Dr. Reid, I’m proud to bump your title to work, friend.” 

“Spencer,” He interjects, and you can’t help the butterflies that stir inside your stomach at how soft his voice sounds. 

You lick your lips slowly, ignoring your growing nerves. “Spencer.” 

And Spencer tries to ignore how much he likes the sound of your voice calling his name. 

-

Madeline Anderson was a dutiful graduate student. She was always happy to plan study dates with her cohort, ask questions openly, or visit a professor during office hours. However, despite a twenty-four-year-old's diligent efforts, she was still a person.  And, like most people, she never turned down a good story. How could she when there was a story as good as this one unfolding in front of her very eyes? 

Dr. Reid was a favorite of hers. He explained topics thoroughly, and sure, sometimes, he rambled about a different, unrelated subject, but he wasn’t dull. Halfway through his lecture, the hall could hear the eerie creaking of doors that slammed closed with a significant thud. Madeline’s hand kept writing her notes, ignoring the doors until her seatmate, Sadie, kicked her shoe softly. 

Once she had Madeline’s attention, Sadie glanced to the back of the room, silently pleading with Madeline to look that way and fast. Madeline scoffs, slightly amused, shaking her head, but she looks anyway. She was a little caught off guard when she saw you shuffling into an empty seat in the back row with a sheepish smile. 

Sadie nudges her, a mischievous look in her brown eyes. Madeline raises an eyebrow and mouths a tiny, ‘No way.’ 

Madeline steals another look over her shoulder to look at you, and your eyes are trained on Dr. Reid as he talks with his hands. Gossip!

Once the lecture was over, the two girls could be seen packing up their items terribly slow. Madeline watches as you stand, waving at a student or two before beelining it for Dr. Reid’s podium. The same podium that Dr. Reid was leaning against and looking down at you like you were a creature of captivating beauty. 

Wait! No! His gaze resembled that of a love-struck man in a painting! No, still not good enough. It resembled a love-lorn man pinning over a muse, a creature so close and far away. She finds she can’t look away as you drum your fingers on the edge of his podium, your body leaning toward his.

Sadie is the first of the duo to stand; her steps are small, and Madeline is close behind. Just before they leave the lecture hall, they stop by the door and openly stare. They watch as you pick up Dr. Reid’s messenger bag, holding it out for him to take. The way Dr. Reid smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling sweetly as he thanks you. Then they watch how his hand hovers at the small of your back, leading you away from the podium, and how you tilt your head back to flash a winning smile. Then they’re out of there. 

-

Spencer couldn’t place his newfound friendship with you. It lacked —naturally– the familiarity that the BAU gave him, but it still managed to make him feel at home. He never dreaded coming to work, but lately, he’s found that if he doesn’t see you, the work day feels rather lackluster. 

He wonders how you would react if he told you that. He pictures you laughing a little at his confession, or maybe you’d get flustered like you did when he told you he liked spending time with you two weeks ago. 

That was another thing; he had never imagined his old coworker’s reactions to something he’d said before. Sure, there were moments in the past when he sat wondering what Derek or Emily had meant in their responses to his comments here and there. But this level of contemplation never occurred with his friends. 

He’d never sit at his desk like he is now, wondering how Penelope would react to an invitation to lunch or if she’d laugh at one of his jokes. Spencer couldn’t help but chalk it up to knowing precisely what Penelope —or anyone from the BAU team— would say to the invite. Hell, he even knows the jokes he would share with Penelope. He could easily say it was because he was still getting to know you, but something about that explanation didn’t sit right with him. 

That uncanny, familiar rush of excitement that courses through his veins whenever he hears your voice across the hall doesn’t sit right with him. The euphoric feeling he gets from making you laugh. And now, this excessive daydreaming. It’s an emotion he’s previously felt, yet he’s struggling to conceptualize it— frustratingly on the tip of his tongue. 

His foot anxiously taps against the carpet under his desk, and he fears that if he keeps it up, there will be a hole where his right foot naturally rests. He pushes his chair away from his desk, stands, and walks across the hall to your office door, gently rapping his knuckles against the wood. 

He can hear the faint sound of music coming from your office, and you don’t bother turning it off as you open the door, and Spencer gets an earful of something from the 80s. Spencer tries to suppress the giddy feeling that completely consumes his body when he sees that giddy look in your eyes. 

You always had the prettiest eyes, but when you were having fun? They just lit up the room— the universe. He’s seen people brighten or perk up when they are excited, but nothing matches the look in your eyes when you are excited. The last time he saw those eyes shine the way they are now was at the beginning of the semester when Spencer brought in some cookies that Penelope had given him that first week. 

You gasp softly, leaning against your door slightly, your head resting on the wood slowly. Those shining eyes stare at him almost dreamily. “Spencer Reid, my esteemed neighbor.” 

Spencer tries to ignore the saccharine tone of your voice and the way it makes him feel like he is melting into a puddle of goo. “May I borrow a cup of sugar?” He sounds slightly awkward as he jokes with you, and his head dips down in a vain attempt to hide his growing embarrassment. 

Despite his awkward attempt at being funny, he can hear the melodic sound of your laugh in seconds, and a surprising rush of reassurance settles in his chest. “You tried.” You state with an empathetic look on your face. “You looking for a lunch buddy?” 

Spencer’s eyes always have this puppy-like look when he wants something. Whenever he’s after something, his eyes —unbeknownst to him— become irresistible. Those honey and green hues in his eyes mix into a pleading look that has your stomach twisting into knots and refusal dying on your tongue. It’s terribly distracting and, if you’re being honest, disturbingly attractive. You’re huffing out a mocking sigh of frustration as you grab your bag, shut your computer off, and lock your office door. “I believe it’s my pick this time.” 

“It was your pick last time,” Spencer replies, walking beside you, his head tipping to the side to look down at you. 

“I thought you were a gentleman.” 

“What prompted this conclusion?" Spencer taunts as his hands reach for the door handle, holding it open with a warm smile. 

You walk past him with an incredulous look, “A hunch.” You can see the confused look on his face even when his face isn’t in view. The mental image makes your insides turn to jelly, and a small voice in your head begins to wonder what’s wrong with you. 

Before you can dwell in that house forever, Spencer reappears at your side. “At least hear me out,” He pleads softly, and for a brief moment, his slender fingers brush against yours. 

Your throat feels slightly dry. “Fine." 

Spencer brightens at that, leaving you dazed, “That café you like does specials on soups and sandwiches on Wednesdays.” 

It does? Why is it that Spencer knows that about your favorite café and you don’t? The notion that he took time to look up the weekly specials makes you feel —momentarily— warm all over. Then, a nagging voice reminds you of his eidetic memory. Of course! He didn’t take the time out of his week to look up something as silly as the specials at that café you like. He probably just remembered it from last time. 

The fact should calm you down and give your pounding heart a reprieve, but it doesn’t. Instead, you can feel your chest tighten with disappointment as you give Spencer a lackluster nod of approval. “Sounds great.” 

He notices the subtle shift in your body language, his fingers nervously tugging the frayed edges of his cardigan into his palm. “Unless you’d like to eat somewhere else?” He remembered the weekly specials the last time you took him there and was waiting for an opportunity to present itself. 

He doesn’t know if he’s said or done something wrong, but the brightness in your eyes has seemingly deflated. “No, I’m fine! That sounds good.” A tight smile forces its way onto your face as you walk toward the café in question. 

–

It’s not uncommon for campuses filled to the brim with students, such as this one, to experience outbreaks of various diseases—the flu, stomach bugs, the occasional case of mono. According to you, they posted pamphlets about norovirus last year— a germaphobe's worst nightmare. 

Spencer swears that he’s gotten better at handling germs; prison wasn’t the cleanest place. He got through the Fall semester without catching a single cold, and so far, he is accomplishing the same goal with the Spring Semester. 

Unfortunately, you have a different fate. You’ve canceled classes two days in a row now, and the last time he talked with you over the phone, you sounded terrible. Spencer offered to help you grade some papers or take over a class or two, but you vehemently declined. 

You trusted that Spencer would do a good job, but the guilt of him doing twice the work would eat away at you as you sniffled, shivered, and coughed roughly on your couch. You’ve slept through half of the day. Your fever is still going strong. Your hands blindly search for your phone, scrambling on your couch until you feel it in your hands. 

You wince at the time, six o’clock in the afternoon. Your appetite went out the window yesterday, alongside the ability to breathe through your nose. You groan, back hitting the back of the couch, slumping over a little. You need to eat, but your fog-filled mind and weak limbs struggle to get up and cook something. 

A knock at the door spooks a yelp out of you, but it quickly turns into a thick cough. Wrapping your quilt around your body, you hobble to the door and peek out the peephole. Your head reels back at Spencer Reid standing outside your apartment door. “Spencer, I’m sick!” 

Watching him through the peephole, you see him grin, “I know, I come bearing gifts.” 

You lean your forehead against the door, sighing out at the feeling, “Leave them on the–”

Spencer cuts you off with a rather loud, somewhat embarrassing, “No!” He clears his throat, shifting his weight on his feet. This isn’t his comfort zone, and while he hates germs, he cares about you. It was a feeling he was starting to piece together– tender and true. Not hearing your voice these past two days has felt oddly similar to torture. “No,” He continues, “I’ll heat it up for you, and don’t say no because you sounded terrible on the phone-–” 

His sentence is cut off as you swing the door open, and his heart clenches at the sight. Your hair is messy, you have a red nose and pale cheeks, and the look is complete with some baggy pajamas. You groan softly, motioning for him to come in with a wave of your hand as you trudge back over to the couch, laying down with a rough oof. 

Spencer's feet hesitate for a second, hazel eyes studying your messy living room– tissues on the coffee table, empty mugs on practically every surface. He swallows roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing against his throat as he takes the plunge, taking a comically large step into your apartment and gently shutting the door behind him. 

‘This is a terrible idea. I’m going to get sick, and then we’ll both be out of the office, and then–’ A sneeze from you pulls him away from his panicking thoughts, and he looks down at the items in his hands with a sudden purpose. 

He can feel his cheeks warm as he looks down at the bouquet of daisies in one hand and the container of noodle soup in the other.  He can hear your labored breathing from the couch as he awkwardly finds your kitchen. As he searches for a vase, it dawns on him— this is his first time in your apartment.

His anxiety gets the best of him as he manages to find a pretty-looking vase. He silently wonders if he should stick the soup in the fridge, leave the flowers in the vase, and take his leave. He finds a pair of scissors, carefully cutting the stems as he anxiously chews on his bottom lip. He’ll heat the soup, take care of the flowers, and get out— yes!

He fills the vase with water absentmindedly, arranging the daisies with gentle hands before moving on to the soup. He shakes his head at his anxious thoughts, thousands of reasons to get out, escape routes overlapping in his mind. He finds that he’s already done everything he said he would do. So, why was he still here? 

Spencer rolls out the tension in his shoulders as he grabs a spoon from the kitchen drawer. He can hear a soft cough from the living room as he carries the warm soup with extreme care. Setting the soup bowl and spoon on your side table, he looks down at you as you stare up at him tenderly. “Thank you.” Your voice is hoarse as you carefully sit criss-cross on the couch and hold the bowl of soup in your left hand, your right hand using the spoon to search for the best-looking egg noodle in the bowl. 

Your eyes stray toward Spencer, who flashes you a warm smile. His nervous eyes look around at the tissues on the coffee table just before he disappears into the kitchen. 

You barely have time to ask him what he’s doing when he comes out wearing your hot pink cleaning gloves, holding a plastic bag in one hot pink gloved hand, “How did you–” 

“They were by the kitchen sink,” He hurriedly explains as he gets work picking up the dirty tissues around you and tossing them into the plastic bag. 

You sniffle as you sip on some broth. “You don’t have to clean. I know how much you hate germs. I won’t be mad if you leave. You’ve already been so helpful–” 

“I want to help.” His head turns to look at you, his hazel eyes filled with determination. You let out a soft laugh, covering your mouth as your laugh turns into a shaky cough. Spencer smiles at that, feeling a warm burst of pride in knowing he can make you laugh, even now. 

You continue to watch Spencer as he tidies up your living room, his eyes and hands concentrated on the task at hand. You feel your body growing warm, and you’re unsure if it’s because your fever is breaking or because of how sweet he’s being. You shift on the couch, taking small bites of the soup and smiling softly. 

If you didn’t feel so terrible, you would be talking more, but you’re finding that this is a comfortable silence. Spencer leaves your view again, the living room now clean of dirty tissues and empty tea cups, as he carries the mess into the kitchen. 

When he returns, he’s carrying a vase full of daisies— did he have those when he came in? Your eyes widen at the sight, and you quickly set the bowl of soup back on the side table. “You got me,” A sneeze followed by a short sniffle. “Daisies?” You ask him, cheeks burning with emotion.

Spencer’s pale cheeks are tinged pink as he sets the vase of daisies on your now-clean coffee table. He watches with a warm, giddy smile as your fingertips reach out to brush the petals. “I– well, yes. Did you not see them in my hand when you let me in?” 

You shake your head, glancing up at him with a beaming smile. There those eyes are again, big and bright with joy. He’ll buy out flower shops if that’s what it takes. He watches as your gaze drifts back to the flowers, and he can feel a slight shiver of realization slither into his heart. He loves you. 

His calm demeanor dissipates rapidly, praying that you don’t look over at him as he stares at you with a shell-shocked expression.  

How? 

When? 

His shell-shocked expression morphs into one of slight panic, and his breathing begins to sound slightly erratic. He’s got to get out here. He needs to… what does he need to do? He can’t think straight. He can’t tell you, no. No, no, no, you’d be appalled. 

Well, would you?

As he steadies his breathing, he decides he needs time to think. He can’t reach a healthy conclusion with you three feet away from him on the couch. He’s searching for a good enough reason to leave when you announce, “I love them.” Your eyes flit over to him, and he feels like he could melt. 

“I–” He sighs, swallowing against the lump in his throat, “I’m so glad.” 

You notice the tension in his shoulders and, resting your back against the couch, “Thank you for everything. You’re the best friend a girl can have, honest.” You lick your lips, a mischievous look in your eyes. “However, I fear I must force you out.” 

Spencer starts to protest, but you shush him quickly. “Nu-uh, I won’t hear it. You’ll get sick if you stay here a moment longer.” You stand, sniffling softly as you gently motion to the door. 

When Spencer doesn’t immediately move, you groan and gently press your right palm on his shoulder, pushing him weakly toward the door. His feet work against him as he looks over at you, “At least let me–” 

You shush him again, earning an annoyed look from the tall brunette man you’re bossing around. You open the door for him, leaning against it as you watch him step out into the hall. He looks utterly confused, stuttering softly, “Well, I can bring you lunch tomorrow?” he suggests weakly. He doesn’t understand why he feels so disappointed at his leaving. He had just decided to leave, so why did leaving feel so… melancholy? Despite his confusing new revelation, he wants to stay and care for you— even if it means catching a cold. 

But you persist. “I’ll call you if I need your assistance.” 

He wants to tell you you’re being unreasonably stubborn, but he bites his tongue. His lips form a slight frown. He’s on the verge of a pout as he throws his hands up.  “Fine.” 

Your pale, sick cheeks have a little color in them now as you wave. “Goodnight, Spencer.” 

He swallows, feeling the desperate urge to beg you to let him stay. “Goodnight.” Spencer remains standing in the hallway as you slowly close the door. He groans out in frustration, shaking his head as he mournfully makes his way down the hall. He needs to call someone. 

Unbeknownst to him, you’re sitting on your couch again, admiring the daisies with a soft smile. You let out a weak sigh, shaking your head a little as the thought crosses your mind. As you slowly lie back on the couch, you mutter to an empty room. “How am I supposed to get over my feelings for you when you do things like this?” Maybe you need to phone a friend, too.

[waifuoftomonori]

Oh, 5000% yes. Canon Tomonori likes restraining people in various ways, including tying them up, too much for it to be a coincidence. Like, he never has sex in the game, and it’s not confirmed to be a kink, but it’s definitely a kink.

He also has the Power of Words which lets him just command people to do what he says; he has an emotionally sadistic streak (usually in the context of getting revenge, sometimes for extremely petty things, but he also just loves tormenting and humiliating Akifusa for the hell of it); there’s the time he punishes Shiki with cuddles and the other time he punishes Akifusa (more seriously) with some kind of non-depicted physical violence (shown in a flashback in Akifusa’s Song of Spring story, I believe); his dialogue is littered with commands and cage metaphors and the darkest possible ways of saying benign things, sometimes just to get a rise out of people. Oh, and I feel like he’d have a lot of fun playing around with roles. And there was that time he drank Shiki’s blood when she transferred it to him via kisses (to keep the Sword sealed), which wasn’t his idea and I don’t think his eventual acceptance was really about the blood in a kinky sense, I think he would have returned the kisses regardless, but it bears mention given his track record.

I don’t think he’d have a lot of submissive kinks, but there is also a chance that experiencing physical pain could be a form of atonement and maybe more for him. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately— he might risk going too far with it), he would need different partners for that; I don’t think Shiki or Akifusa would be willing to entertain any masochistic tendencies on his end, especially after his attempt to sacrifice himself in his route.

I don’t think he’d enjoy physical sadism too much after having to watch Shiki go through those rituals, particularly not with her. With Akifusa, he might be comfortable with some very light stuff, like spanking or biting, but it would be more about humiliation than the pain, and other kinks would take precedence.

Overall, he’d probably default to being relatively gentle as a Dom, especially with Shiki but maybe some days with Akifusa as well if Aki was acting insecure or vulnerable (or directing his eagerness to please toward Tomonori instead of Shiki). He’d enjoy pleasuring them both more than the reverse, I think, perhaps owing to his only partially-resolved guilt and childhood trauma, but also quite possibly as a simple matter of preference. He might need aftercare the first few times with Shiki— reassurance that she liked it and he has no reason to feel guilty for also enjoying it, that kind of thing. …He’d probably also need it with Akifusa, but he’d try to disguise it as being concerned for Akifusa’s sake (“you know I was exaggerating, right? I didn’t mean everything I said” and so on).

How would he react to bratting? Probably really well. He’s got a good sense of humor and likes poetic justice, as well as petty revenge / punishments, and seeing Shiki’s mischievous side creep out again (after being suppressed since childhood) would delight him and possibly alleviate some of his guilt for liking the control so much. It would eventually get to the point that Shiki would have to brat with exaggerated displays of subservience / poking fun at his more controlling tendencies while Tomonori tried to provoke her into disobeying or disagreeing with increasingly outrageous statements, the same way he normally riles Akifusa up. They’d enjoy it, though.

Why do I think Shiki would be a brat? It’s largely based on her interactions with Tomonori in his route once they’ve both shed their formal roles (starting with when they spend time in the cabin together). She turns into, like, Sass Central, and it’s really cute and heartwarming to see that side of her emerge after she’s been so solemn for most of the story (understandably so, given her position).

I might have mentioned this before, but I could see Shiki enjoying either a Dominant or submissive role (and probably good ol’ vanilla sex too, for that matter). As a Dom, she’s definitely more gentle, though, and as a sub she’s still pretty feisty.

Akifusa, though? As a thought experiment, I’ve tried to picture Aki as a Dom a few times. It never works. There’s no way I can see this man giving orders or taking control of any form in bed. He might need some time to overcome the initial embarrassment of submitting to Tomonori, since he sees him as more of an equal outside kinky situations— although he puts up with all kinds of degradation and humiliation from him readily enough, just saying, and I think if Tomonori were ever openly affectionate with him, Akifusa’s mind might just shatter with pure joy— but he already worships the ground Shiki walks on, and he is incapable of addressing her by anything other than her title the vast majority of the time, to the point where getting him to say her name becomes the entire subplot of his sequel fic. During which they are married. And he calls her “Princess” in his dream too, if memory serves.

And that’s not a personal retainer thing. Compare that with Tomonori, who refers to Shiki by name in his thoughts and when talking aloud to himself; who slips up and calls her by name while they’re relaxing multiple times in his route (at the beginning and end), even when he’s trying to play the formal retainer, and calls her by name frequently from pretty much his confession of love onward; and who immediately jumps on the request to call her by her first name in her summer fic like it was just waiting on the tip of his tongue all along.

…So yeah, those are my thoughts. Probably gone over these already, but eh, I like talking about the Kifu gang and my reasoning for assigning them the roles I do in my fanfic.

This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[gullwrites]

sunset thoughts 🎸

A little thing I wrote, that's mostly, like, Klara thinking about life and music and stuff. It's also her birthday. Her first birthday when she's actually able to celebrate with her friend, that is. Because everyone's too busy on Valentine's Day. Anyway, she's just chilling <3

content warnings: suggestive topic mention

Relaxing bath, check. Nothing better than laying in warm water with all the bubbles and some snacks after a long work week and deadlines.

Klara stepped out of the bathroom and took a few steps, stopping by the new vinyl player. She carefully took out the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it down on the turntable, carefully brushing the dust off it with a brush before moving the head of tonearm to the edge of the vinyl and lowering it, letting it do its job. After watching the vinyl for a moment, she took a few more steps and half-sat, half-jumped on the couch bed, then slightly moving to the spot the golden sunlight was shining at.

Tobias peeked from behind the bookshelf. She smiled at the light blue kitchen apron of its, worn over a cream-colored shirt with a fun pattern, and a granola bar sticking out of the apron's pocket. "Hey. Had a nice bath?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good. You look very relaxed. Um, anyway," it quickly turned its head in the kitchen's direction, probably heard something Klara didn't, "What kind of drink do you want for dinner?"

She thought for a moment, thinking of all the possible drinks she'd love to have right now. "What are you cooking?" She still couldn't figure it out based on all the scents coming from the kitchen.

"It's a surprise. But also, something you really like."

"Hm. Are you looking for an already made drink choice or wouldn't mind making something?"

"Both? Whatever you want, honey, it's your birthday."

Would she ever stop smiling at that petname, she wondered. "Uh, um. Do we still have that red wine Leon brought? The non-alcoholic one."

"I think we finished it at the last table-top night. Almost choked on it when Darya asked if her character could fuck the guard to get into that building... But I can check if you want, or go to the st-"

"No, no, don't worry about it. Uh, we still have sparkling water, right? Maybe something like a mix of that and whatever juice we currently have?"

"Of course! The food's going to take a little more time, I'll let you know when it's ready," it said, smiling, and disappeared behind the bookshelf again.

Klara leaned back, smiling at the softness of couch pillows, grateful it had decided not to make the bed today. Something about the soft blankets made her feel safe and sound, laying on them in her bathrobe with still slightly wet hair. Wishing she could just stay here forever, leave all the troubles behind and enjoy the soft, cozy feeling of the couch.

She took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of freshly made coffee and scents of food being made mixing together, floating around the apartment. Listened to the song that was currently playing, thinking of the vintage vinyl player playing her current favorite album.

Both being birthday gifts from today, and the food being a birthday dinner. She had been looking at the exact model for a while now, and seeing it at home when she came from work was not something she could've foreseen. The player was light blue, exactly the color she'd really wanted. Now she only needed to find her paint bottles - the idea of painting sea and clouds on its sides hadn't left her head ever since she saw its photo.

She wondered if Tobias had seen her stare at the store website on her laptop when they were working on their papers together - or at least tried to work on them, and failing miserably at it and instead spending most of the time talking about completely different things - as it was getting them more coffee. Or if she had mentioned it at some point. It's not like it was the first time someone bought her something she wanted, but this player was quite expensive.

Her back feeling a little uncomfortable, she sat up and stretched her arms, then her neck, slightly feeling the tension in her shoulders lessen. She clearly needed that, if not more. It's been a while since she's done that, and the idea of a massage really didn't sound like something she'd want to do. Requires too much trust for an unknown person, especialy when you're slightly paranoid.

Maybe I should just join Tobias next time it was doing its everyday stretches, she thought, laying back down. She could see it - looking through the shelves of their bookshelf - standing by the kitchen counter, slowly stirring something while tapping its foot to the rhythm of the song. It wasn't really what it usually listened to, preferring jazz and synth-pop, but seemed to really enjoy the album. Something about it trying out things she was into made her feel warm inside.

She had talked about the album a lot lately, getting excited at the songs playing on the radio, or seeing merch of it. Thought about buying it as an album, then realizing that she'd probably need a player for it, and getting stuck in a 'should I, shouldn't I' situation about buying it. A problem for later, she thought, when she'd save some more money.

That is, until she came home and saw it wrapped with a pretty, dark green bow. Specifically, a deluxe edition of the album, with a poster and small postcards. Klara looked at the wall and wondered where to stick the poster. Well, now that's a problem for later, she thought and closed her eyes to enjoy the music.

She somehow ended up thinking about last year's birthday, barely knowing anyone in the city she had just moved to, ending up 'celebrating' it at night with Mabel and some of her corporate friends, people she actually bareny knew, if at all. And being on a video call with Måns, him telling her how he sent something to her but the mail is being late.

Or the birthday from two years ago, which she spent most of driving alone outside of the city - with a quick stop in a diner and a cup of coffee by her side - thinking about the mess of a job-studying combo and all the other problems she was going through, spending a few hours sitting in some park, then coming to her and her ex's flat late at night and learning that her ex still hadn't returned from a bar, only acknowledging her existence with a text. At least her friends texted her some birthday wishes.

Spending a birthday with someone she cared about and who cared about her? Not something she was used to.

Tobias didn't seem to care about the day... like it did with most popular festivals. It seemed to prefer celebrating things with its friends instead of celebrating just for the sake of traditions, which Klara related to a lot. She did enjoy some big ones, like New Year's Eve or Purim, but didn't really care much about smaller ones, especially if it's Valentine's day. The emphasis on romantic love the day had always made her annoyed, or how they were forced to make cards for each other at school for the sake of friendships. Not a good day to be born, if you'd ask her. Worst part is, were she born 34 minutes later, she wouldn't have a problem like that.

Every birthday had some kind of compromises like accepting Valentine's Day cards as birthday ones or having to enjoy all the pink, heart-pattern stuff - which she wouldn't mind if it were any other day - or having to hear someone can't meet her on the specific day because they were on a date, or that they were invited to some friends' parties. She felt completely fine with it, everyone has their lives and the selection at the stores is what it is at this time of year. But it did hurt that the day seemed to take a part of her birthday, never really allowing her to fully celebrate her and her birthday only - driving her to not really caring about the day itself anymore and being fine with celebrating it on some other day, if at all.

Hearing her best friend-slash-partner say they could spend it together, and without any overly romantic, Valentine's Day-ish aspects added to it, was not something she could've thought of.

What it meant was a cute, hand-drawn birthday card with a gull on it, the vinyl player and the album, and a fun day overall. A breakfast in bed - a surprise on its own, considering how Tobias's not a morning person - and the post-work relaxing bath, followed by chilling in bed and listening to music as it was finishing the dinner, Klara really loved the idea of just laying down after the hellish day at work. And a nice surprise dinner, which she was now waiting for, as it really wanted to keep it a surprise. Then, after the dinner, they were thinking of an evening spent with board games and mocktails.

She glanced at the moving box the vinyl player was standing on. And maybe we could do some more unpacking. They had moved in two weeks ago, yet haven't really made that much progress, other than building the bookshelf, dining table and setting up the couch. Everything else was still in the boxes due to busy work schedules and the typical grad school fuckery.

Oh, how excited she was for the upcoming two-week vacation she managed to get.

Klara recognized the current song, or at least its end, and slowly sat up, reaching for her bass guitar. She's not the biggest fan of the next song, but the bass solo in this one was just too good - and of course she had to learn it. She slightly swept some dust off the instrument, careful not to rip off the sticker she still hadn't managed to fix yet, and waited for the good part.

She didn't really get to play it that often for last two years - always busy with work or university or whatever was going on, or her ex saying her playing it at home was distracting and annoying. Or not being able to play some of the songs she liked at her previous apartment simply because it was corporate and she was afraid of possible surveillance - a stupid thing to worry about, she always thought, yet never let go. Was afraid to let go? Whatever.

She used to play in a band back when she was in high school, and doing the first two years of her bachelor's degree back in Berkeley. They didn't really make any effort to get noticed, mostly playing on their friends' gigs or at fun events. She couldn't even remember any of the songs they used to play, unless it was something popular or was requested a lot.

But it felt nice to get back into the hobby, even if she was just playing along with some music in the background.

The fingers on her right hand moved on the cold-ish strings, pressing them down at the right chords. Her left hand's thumb pulled the strings - she never really cared about starting to use the index finger instead. She missed the slightly metallic scent on the fingertips the strings tend to leave.

As the song ended, she placed the bass guitar back on its little stand, straightening the belt so it wouldn't stick out. Wouldn't want anyone to get up at night to drink some water and accidentally trip on it.

She looked up and noticed Tobias leaning on the bookshelf again, apron gone this time, the artificial ivy leaves hanging from the bookshelf blocking out part of its face, while the other part was highlighted by the setting sun. "The song sounds better when you're playing along."

"You're just trying to be nice. I haven't played properly for years..."

"No, no, I'm serious. Pretty sure it's because yours is half-acoustic and what they use in the song is electric," it said, walking closer to the bed, hesitating for a moment before deciding to sit down, "It sounds really nice."

"Hmm, maybe, maybe..." she smirked, "You should've seen me with the old contrabass at my parents' house. Now that is a sound."

"We should get one once we manage to move into a bigger apartment."

Klara laughed at the idea, kinda liking it but mostly she just tried to figure out how to place and instrument like that into a rented apartment.

Before she could answer, it added, "Hey, at least it's not a piano. Won't have to bother the people who would end up helping us out with a giant, accident-prone-when-moving instrument."

"God, yeah, that would be a nightmare. Good thing neither of us plays it," she imagined herself annoyingly stopping on every floor of stairs and just banging the frustration out on a piano's keys. "I should teach you how to play a guitar someday. Or bass."

"Oh! Hah, um. You do know I have, like, the worst sense of rhythm, right?"

"I don't believe in sense of rhythm. Practice makes it perfect. It will be fun!"

"Hm. Maybe someday, maybe."

"Of course! And, well, only if you want to."

It looked at her, a wide smile on its face. Klara couldn't tell if it seemed grateful or just didn't know what to say and thus chose to just sit quietly and smile. Once it turned away to get up, it said, "Anyway! The dinner's ready," it stood there for a moment, clearly thinking of something, "That was actually the reason I got up, but then I noticed you beginning to play. Didn't want to bother you and then I forgot about it...."

"Wow, I'm finally going to see your surprise meal now," she said and stood up next to it.

"Yep! And think about it, you didn't even lose to your impatience which you were worried about two days ago."

Klara remembered the conversation they had, her complaining about her impatience and worrying how it will somehow lead to problems, something she always worried about but never really mentioned it before. And how it said that she has nothing to worry about, and her debating that it's wrong. She didn't realize it would actually keep thinking about it. "Aren't you funny," she murmured and gently hugged it, "And sweet."

"Anything for you, Klara," it murmured, "Happy birthday."

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: mistaken letters

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: helluva boss

rating: PG

genre: slight angst, mainly romance

pairing: stolas x reader

summary: when the letters that you wrote were the only thing that got him through.

When the letters he wrote were the only thing that got you through.

Request:

Can I ask for one with stolas where they are friends and writing each other per letter and someday stolas wrote a love letter but never wanted to send it to reader- but did it in the end because he mixed up his letters? 

Writing letters to Stolas is what got you through some of the hardest times in your life, but also was where you went during the best times of your life to celebrate about positive things that had happened. Stolas was your best friend and closest confidant. 

You had photos from all the important stages of Octavia’s childhood and knew of the marriage problems that Stolas was facing with Stella. It broke your heart that someone so kind could be treated so cruelly. You had mentioned, kindly of course, that you felt that maybe he should seek a way to amicably end the relationship, seeing as neither were happy. This caused a very heated letter to be sent to you from Stella, telling you to “stay the fuck away from my husband and my family”. You hadn’t sent a letter after that, nor had received one from Stolas either. 

You sighed as you sat on your balcony, looking out over the Pride ring, recently moved up here from Gluttony. The red sky was very pretty, you mused. It made you miss you feathered friend even more.

Friend… you sighed looking down at the street below watching as sinners walked past. You had constantly wished to be more than friends. When you had spoken of others who would treat Stolas better, you only thought of you, as selfish as that sounded. You wanted to be the one to be there for him, but he had a family. You had a dream that was dying a slow death. You turned and walked back in, heading to your kitchen when you saw a letter zap itself onto your counter. You would know that celestial magic anywhere.

“Stolas….” You breathed as you reached for the letter and began reading. 

My Dearest, I do hope this finds you well. I have missed your letters deeply and I apologize for my own absence.  I took your advice. Stella and I are now divorced. It’s been hard on Octavia, but I think we are both happier. And now I can finally be truthful with you.

Your torn from the letter when a sharp knock is heard from your front door. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to be torn away from the letter, but then the knock becomes incessant. 

“I’m coming!” You yell as you cross to the door, letter still in hand and open it, coming face to face with spindly, bird legs. Looking up you see Stolas, out of breath, disheveled and eyes wild. 

“S-Stolas?” Your mouth forms the word, his name, but it’s like your body has been knocked of breath. 

“I-uh-I see you’ve already read the letter I mistakenly sent.” He whispers, his shoulders sagging. 

“Mistaken? It’s addressed to me? What do you mean Stolas?” Your confusion prevailing over your shock of seeing him after so long.

“You haven’t read it all the way through then?” His eyes light up, hope glinting across them.

“No, I was in the middle of doing so before someone so rudely interrupted me.” You sass, leveling a glare up. 

“Wonderful, then let me just switch these out as I sent the wrong one dear.” He smiles sweetly and tries to grab the letter and you pull it away. 

“Oh, no. I’m reading this one. You can hand me the other too, but you’re not getting this one back.” You say backing into your home. 

“Please, just give it back, darling.” He says and starts toward you. 

“No!” You exclaim as you run to your room, him hot on your tail as he is yelling for you to stop. You make it to your room first with just enough time to shut and lock the door. You hear him bang on the door as he pleads with you.

“Please, I will beg if I must, don’t read it.” He whispers the last bit. You don’t answer and look down at the letter, continuing it.

And now I can finally be truthful with you. Your letters were some of the brightest parts of my day. Your perspective I cherished and your sassy little come backs never failed to make me smile, even on my most miserable of days.  I guess this is to say that I have fallen in love with you.  Completely and wholly. It is not the reason why Stella and I separated, I don’t want you to think that.  But I do love you, and I hope that you can say you love me too. Yours, Stolas

Your mouth fell open as you quickly snatched open the door, seeing the sorry sight of Stolas, hunched over and almost looking like he was waiting to have something thrown at him.

“I-I told you not to read it. I mistakenly sent it to you… I never meant to. I am so sorry.” He murmured, his head and eyes low.

“Can you bend down for me? I can’t reach you.” You ask quietly.

“You can just decline my advance from here, thank you very much. I don’t need pity.” His voice haughty, to disguise the anguish. 

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, now bend down.” Your voice leaving no room for arguments. He kneels in front of you, finally eye to eye. Your hand reaches up and brings his chin up so you can look into his eyes. 

“Your silly, you know that?” You smile and he looks indignant. Before he can say anything, your thumb swipes across his lip, rubbing over the break where part of his beak was and continuing across. A little whimper being dragged from him as his eyes shot open, not even realizing his eyes had closed. “I love you too.”

“You what?” His voice wavering, as his eyes searched yours trying to confirm what he heard.

“I love you, Stolas. I have for a while. Deeply, for everything you are, and are not and will be.” A smile spreading across your face at his cheeks burning bright pink. He leans in and captures you in a kiss, feeling more so than hearing his hum in his chest as he quickly deepens the kiss. Pulling apart, you gathered him to you and rested your head on his chest. 

“I’m not letting you get away this time.” He whispered, his voice rough, like he was fighting tears.

“They’ll have to pry you away from me, birdy.” You say, your words muffled by his chest as somehow pulls you in tighter, not letting you go.