#to not be visiting them and to be unable to visit them now lol but it’s just rly nice and special being here. im goingto miss it so much and

[pepprs]

last few hours in boston :(

[notiddygothgf]

2/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: part two! its all smut lol. anyway, like I said, this one shot is finished (just split btw two chaps bc theres 11k words). but if u comment and persuade me who knows! I can always do another. im a whore for ur validation.

★ w.c.; 5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI COOCHIE <3

|  come over tn?

|  i got smth i wanna run by u first

YOU

|  omw.

You stood on Itadori’s porch, finger poised over the doorbell a month after your eighteenth birthday. You had been anticipating to see your best friend, Itadori. But as the door swings open, what you don’t expect is to come face to face with Itadori’s older brother.

Your heart drops, and your breath catches in your throat as you take in his appearance. It felt for a moment as if time had stood still since you last saw him. He had only grown more handsome during your time apart. His dark hair was done back into two messy buns, deep bags residing beneath his deep eyes. 

Choso looked absolutely breathtaking . His fitted black tee clung to his chest and arms, showing off his toned physique, while the baggy black sweats he was sporting gave him an effortlessly cool appearance.

His presence exudes a magnetic charm that takes you back to when you were 17. His half smirk sends a wonton shiver down your spine.

“Hey there,” He says, deep, rich voice sending ripples of familiarity throughout your body.

When his lips pull away from his teeth, forming syllables and words, you couldn’t help but notice a small glint of metal near the tip of his tongue. You realized immediately what had seemed so different about him, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“You pierced your tongue?” You blurt out, unable to hide your shock.

Choso nearly snorts, though his eyes never leave yours. “You’re not surprised to see me?” He teases.

“I am,” You retort quickly, trying to regain your composure. “You’re home for the holidays?”

He nods, gaze still fixed on your red face. “Just came home last night.”

That would explain why I didn’t see you, you thought.

“I’m glad you came, though, I’ve been holding onto your birthday gift for a while now,” He sighed, stepping aside to let you into the house but keeping his arm braced on the doorframe. 

You slide under his muscular arm, doing your best to ignore the way your body bristled with electricity when you brushed up against him.

You set your bag on the ground near the door, kicking off your shoes and neatly pushing them aside while Choso locked the door behind you. 

“It’s in my room,” he said, passing you.

You followed him nervously up the stairs into his bedroom, heart pounding a little louder with every step. This would be the first time you would find yourself alone in Choso’s room, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

As you enter his bedroom, you drank in your surroundings – a rare sight. The room was a reflection of Choso’s personality; band tees all over the walls, sheets laid flat and clean, laundry sitting in a basket in a neat, folded pile – a subtle hint of organized chaos.

It felt both familiar and new at the same time. The air was thick with anticipation, and memories of your whirlwind summer fling with Choso came flooding back.

You brace your hands on the door. “Is Itadori home?” You ask him, hands tracing the doorframe while Choso rummaged through his drawer. You sat on his bed.

“Nah,” he replied casually.

Furrowing your brows, you tried to make sense of the situation. But told me to come over…

“Is he coming?” You tried again, voice tinged with uncertainty.

Choso rose up from the bedside drawer, extending a small box towards you with a slight grin. “Nope,” he said.

The realization hit you like a freight train. This was a fucking setup, and Itadori was the mastermind behind it all.

He wanted you alone with his brother. He knew about your fling with him. 

He didn’t notice when the two of you had disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes. 

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

He knew.

He had set you up.

Your face was on fire. Still, you took the small box from Choso, an awkward smile on your face, and carefully undid the little bow. As you opened it, you revealed its contents – a tee shirt with Choso’s University crest on it, a glace pendant on a fabric necklace, and a box set of your favorite film saga.

Choso had never given you a gift for your birthday before, at least not anything beyond a card. Briefly, you wondered if it was his way of making up for your 18th birthday party, the one he had missed.

“Choso…” You began, a humorous grin on your lips. “Merch?”

He shrugged playfully, his gaze locked onto yours. “In case you miss me,” he replied, tone teasing yet sincere.

With a genuine smile, you leaned over and hugged him. “I love it,” you had told him.

Choso reached into the box for the necklace, gesturing for you to come closer. You leaned in, allowing him to loop the fabric over your head. His fingers brushed against your skin, your neck as he adjusted it.

He froze. You froze.

For a while, the room was quiet. There was an intense stare-off between you two. Choso cleared his throat, seemingly about to break the moment, but you had other plans. Gently, you gripped his chin between your index finger and your thumb, turning his head back to you. 

Gently, you tugged his lower lip down. He stuck his tongue out to wet the corner of his lips in return.

Your breath hitched as your gazes locked, and the air in the room shifted. Choso’s dark eyes shifted beneath your gaze, and you found yourself drawn closer to him.

You swallowed. “How bad did it hurt?” You asked, eyes fixed on the sliver of metal you had caught a glimpse of inside of his mouth.

Choso raised a finger towards his mouth, bringing your attention back to his tongue. “This?” He asked. “Hurt like a bitch, not gonna lie, but it healed up real nice.”

Wordlessly, he stuck his tongue out so you could see it up close. You examined it carefully – it really had healed up rather nicely. There was a small, silver ball wedged into the pink muscle. You wondered how it would feel on your lips, your neck, your body .

Choso closed his mouth. “I got it the first weekend after move-in day,” He explained.

“Why?” You inquired, curiosity finally getting the better of you.

He shrugged with a smirk, “Thought it would look hot. What do you think?”

“I think it looks like a pain in the ass,” You retorted. “Don’t any of the girls you kiss complain about that thing?”

“Quite the contrary,” he remarked, licking his lips. “Why’d you ask?”

You tried to ignore the jealousy that bubbled up inside of you, deep inside of you at the thought of him kissing other girls. You had to remind yourself who you were talking to here. You would have been naive to expect loyalty from a college freshman.

“Looks cold,” you commented instead. “I don’t imagine that would feel very good.”

And his eyes, those dark, beautiful cesspools of emotion, dropped down to your lips, lingering for a moment too long before returning to meet your gaze. “You wanna find out?” He asked.

“Piss off,” You scoffed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. But the blush on your cheeks betrayed the effect his words had on you. “Fuckin’ tease.”

He didn’t move back. No, instead, he leaned in a little closer. “You sure?” He whispered, warm breath grazing the shell of your ear. “I can show you how good it feels, if you want.”

And that’s how you wound up here, with his face buried between your legs. He kissed his way up and down the skin of your thighs. You made quick work of his twin buns, tugging the ties out of his hair.

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. He lifted one of your legs onto his broad shoulder, running his tongue along the length of your inner thigh, pressing a kiss right where your ass met your legs. The metal ball on his tongue felt odd against your skin, but not necessarily unpleasurable.

You had never gone this far with him before. You were turned on beyond comprehension, hungry eyes drinking in the rosey hue that dusted his pale complexion while he sucked on your skin – hard enough for it to hurt, hard enough to leave a mark. 

Tenderly, Choso reached for your panties. He appeared to be on the precipice of a decision. 

“Can I…” He panted, trailing his thumb over the thin piece of fabric that separated the two of you. “Can I take these off?”

You nodded quickly, lifting your hips up for him while he guided the panties off of your legs. 

He licked his lips and parted your legs a second time, fully exposing you to his ravenous gaze. 

“You look like heaven,” He breathed out, voice trembling. He took a moment to admire you, smiling at the way you tried to hide your face. “Wanna taste…”

You had never done this before. The one man you had ever dared to hook up with hadn’t bothered. So you swallowed the lump in your throat, watching him get down on all fours and dip his head down between your legs like a man with his head bowed in worship. 

Though you were far from holy, in that moment, you felt like you were God.

His tongue was hot and wet against your skin, licking a stripe from bottom to top. The metal ball of his tongue piercing caught on your puffy clit, eliciting a quiet gasp. 

“Feel good, baby?” He teased, relishing in the way your thighs tensed around his head. His eyes flitted between you and your pussy – spread open for him like a buffet – pupils blown wide with desire. His pink lips parted around his tongue a second time, and this time you watched him.

Watched him press the metal ball against your clit, rolling over it in slow, steady circles.

You felt like you could die here. 

He adjusted his grip on your hips, pulling you down on the bed until you felt his nose pressing in between your folds. He kissed your heat, moaning into you.  Then, without so much as a warning, he began to eat you out like a starved man.

“Fuck, Cho–” You cried out for him, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his inky black tresses. You had never felt so good in your life, like he had been waiting for this as long as you had. You were sensitive, far too sensitive to comprehend the way your body felt, the way his tongue piercing felt as it glided over your hot flesh.

He didn’t slow down. He licked, slurped, and kissed your swollen clit, keeping that unforgiving pace up until your hips began to jump against his tongue.

“Shit,” You hissed,

He moaned into you in response, meeting your gaze with an intense fire burning behind his eyes. His tongue massaged you up to what you know would be the hardest orgasm of your life – that damn piece of metal made for one hell of a stimulant. It felt like it was pressing right up into your pressure points, deeper than his tongue was able to reach.

You felt yourself come apart at the seams, reduced to a moaning mess in a matter of minutes, riding his tongue like your life depended on it. He stopped moving for a moment, letting you grip him by the hair and ride his face. 

You couldn’t look away.

He looked amazing, fire burning behind his eyes, fingertips biting into the skin of your thighs, brows furrowed with concentration. His eyes never left yours, not even once.

You dropped your head onto the pillow, sitting back and allowing him to resume what he had been doing earlier – that thing with his tongue. 

And resume it he did, assuming a more demanding pace this time. It almost made you want to cry – the pace, the ball on his tongue – it was almost too much to bear. It felt so good.

You felt that familiar coil in your abdomen, almost like you were about to cum, then in a moment’s width he had pulled away. 

You struggled to regain your surroundings, vision cloudy and hazy with pleasure. You could hear your rampant heartbeat racing in your own ears. 

Choso leaned back with a stretch, cracking his neck and licking his lips. The entirebottom half of his face was drenched, dripping with an obscene mixture of your slick and his spit. 

He looked gorgeous, even when his face was tinted red. 

“Choso…” You breathed, letting a breathless chuckle slip between your parted lips.

He grinned back at you. “Any complaints?”

You didn’t glorify him with a response, gripping him by the fabric of his shirt and tugging him up and over you. You searched for his lips, locking them between yours in a messy, heated kiss. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, tangy and a little sweet.

“Shut up and fuck me, Kamo,” You panted with a grin of your own.

That was all he needed to push you onto your back, diving back in to ravage your lips again. It was all a rushed, passionate haze – he tugged your tee shirt over your head, you shoved your skirt down to your ankles and kicked it off the side of the bed. He leaned back with a stretch to reach for the back of his shirt, tugging it over his head and flinging it to the side. 

Your mouth nearly watered for him. He was everything you had dreamed of and so much more. Well defined arms, pecs, abs – a few tattoos littered the broad expanse of his chest. His torso tapered down into a thin, slutty waist. You let your hand slide down his abdomen, eliciting a quiet groan from him as your painted fingernails caught on his toned abs, ghosted over the large tent in his sweats that left nothing to the imagination. 

He was big. Bigger than you had anticipated. The last man you were with was about 3 inches (which was probably for the better, because it had been your first time). He felt about three times as big as that. Maybe more.

It didn’t take long for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your ass flush against his navel. He reached for a handful of your hair, jerking your head to the side, then uttered against your ear, “G’nna fuck that attitude right out’ta you.”

He left you for a moment while he undid the strings of his sweatpants. You couldn’t watch. You knew if you saw it, you would have doubts. 

But you found yourself looking back anyway, right as he had told you. “Wanna reach into that drawer and grab me a condom?”

“Are you um…” You swallowed. “You don’t have any diseases, do you?”

You knew you were clean because you were so disgusted by the man you had hooked up with before Choso that you’d taken yourself to the planned parenthood in town the day after to be tested. Even if you had used a condom.

Choso’s brow quirked up at that. “No, I don’t have any STDs. I get tested twice a year.”

Oh. Okay.

Again, you didn’t want to think about how many women had taken his dick before you. 

“Never gone raw before, though,” He mused quietly, hand rubbing mindless circles over the skin of your ass. 

“Really?” You asked.

“Is that a surprise?” He retorted, though he didn’t seem very hurt by your comment. “Can’t babytrap me.”

You thought about definitely didn’t think about Choso being a father. 

“Is there any way for you to, like…” You hummed, trailing off. Your inexperience had never been more disgustingly apparent. “Pull out?”

“You’re talking like this is your first time,” he laughed breathily.

You paused. His eyes widened.

“Is… this your first time?” He asked again.

“I had sex with this one guy from my class a while ago,” You said after an awkward silence. “He was small and, like, really bad at it.”

Choso seemed humored by your honest admission, though it came at the expense of your own embarrassment. “Why’d you go through with it, then?”

“I only did it to get back at you,” You turned your head back to the pillowcase below you. With a pout, you admitted, “Thought for some reason that by me having sex, I was proving something. I was younger and stupider, okay?”

“So… you’ve only had sex once?” He asked. You didn’t realize this was an interrogation. 

You nodded embarrasedly. Somehow this was more humiliating than being spread open for him like you were right now.

“You sure you want this?” He hummed, roaching forward to tuck your hair behind your ear. It was strangely intimate. When you nodded, he sighed. “We’ll go slow, then. I don’t wanna hurt you–”

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile,” You cut him off, finally turning back to look at him. “I can take it, okay? Just answer the damn question.”

Choso leaned down over you, pinning you into the bed, kissing down your spine. “We can… do backshots,” he murmured against your skin. “Want that?”

“Mhm,” You sighed, easing into his touch.

You had waited far too long for this for something like a condom to get in between the two of you. You wanted to feel him. All of him. 

Choso rolled back, slipping his tip between your fold and swiping it through your slick. You watched him, watched the way he bit his lip at the sensation, eyes glued onto the place where you met him . 

He pursed his lips, letting spit fall from his lips. You watched it dribble down, landing right onto your twitching hole. 

That was so fucking hot .

Then, without a word of warning, he pushed the tip in. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, feeling the burn, the stretch of his girth inside of you. He paused for a moment when the tip was the only thing inside of you, brows drawn together, breaths shallow.

It took everything you had not to cry out in pain. You had been waiting your whole life for this.

But, shit, it hurt. He was big. You felt your body struggle to accommodate him.

Maybe some prep should have been in order…

Oh well, gotta see it through.

As if sensing your internal dilemma, Choso reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours. He placed a soft kiss to the back of your neck. 

“You okay?” He asked you.

No . Yes.

“Yeah,” You bit out. “Just… I ‘jus need a minute.”

“Just tell me when,” he pressed another kiss to your hot skin. “You’re doing so good.”

It took you a few more minutes to adjust to him. Every minute, he would slip in a little further, just enough to make your skin hot and flushed. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, throbbing against your spongy walls.

Eventually, you gave him the green light. And, fuck, it was like something inside of him had snapped. He slid the rest of the way in until his hips were flush with your ass. He drew out, slowly, then thrust back in again.

It felt like he was pulling you apart over and over again, snapping his hips against yours in a progressively harder fashion. 

Choso whimpered quitedly, pausing his harsh movements to change pace. You clenched around him in response, something that made him double over. “Ah, fuck,” He gasped. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

He drew back, thrusting into you once more. You felt your whole body jolt forward with a loud moan of your own.

With wild, passionate eyes, Choso pulled out again, leaving just enough room for the tip. Then, he slammed back into you. Again, again, again – he was relishing in the way you cried into the pillow.

“Fuck, fuck,” You chanted, like some sort of sinful prayer. “ Fuck me, Cho– ”

“Might not last long if you keep callin’ my name like that,” He gasped, tangling a large hand into your messy tresses and gripping it tightly. 

You drew your brows together, allowing yourself to be lost in the pleasure, the attention he was giving you. What would Itadori think, you wondered, if he walked in on you like this – face down ass up in his big brother’s bed?

“Choso ,” You groaned into the pillow. It felt like he was scratching an itch deep inside of you – not your coochie, but your soul. It felt like you were made for this. “ Choso, Fuck. ”

Itadori slipped into his house with a quiet sigh. He kicked his shoes off, set his bag down on the floor, and then reached for his scarf. It had been one long, hellish day. He felt bad making you wait for him, but he didn’t doubt that you would have made yourself right at home in his bedroom by now. You were probably sprawled out over his bed, passed out or playing with his PS5.

He froze when he heard something come from upstairs. It sounded like furniture being moved around, or something like that. There were voices, too.

With knitted brows, he walked hesitantly towards the stairs. Was it coming from up there?

“Fuck, Choso,” He heard a vaguely familiar – albeit very muffled voice – moan. 

It was you. You and another muffled voice.

“Choso, Choso!” 

“Right there?”

“Fuck– yes! Don’t stop!”

He quirked a brow. Then, with a sigh and a dejected shake of his head, he hid away in the kitchen.

“Please!” You gasped, you fumbled around behind you in search of his hand. He grabbed it, pinning your arm behind your back and thrusting into your sore pussy from a new angle – one that made you feel dizzy. You didn’t know how long the two of you had been going at it. All you knew was that you never wanted it to end, that your mind was a blissful haze.

Your body slid up against the bedsheets – up and down, up and down, clenched fingers leaving wrinkles in their wake. 

“Fuck me harder,” You pled.

And fuck you harder he sure did. His chest rolled against your backside, pinning you into the mattress and holding you right where he wanted you. Then he fucked you a little harder.

You were all but screaming his name at that point. “Choso–” 

The head of his cock was bullying into you, beating against that spot deep within you that made your feet fly up, rubbing the back of his thighs as if to tell him ‘ keep going’.You gripped the sheets with unwarranted strength, feeling yourself drip and clench around him – hearing the obscene squelch you made when the two of you met in the middle. 

“ Fu-u-uck ,” You cried, voice high and weak.

“Quit suckin’ me in like that,” He chuckled, though it was cut short by a deep, guttural groan as you did it again. “ Shit , you want kids or somethin’?”

There was a knot in your stomach. A vaguely familiar warmth that seemed to only grow hotter by the second.

“ So perfect, so wet ,” Choso commended you, licking the shell of your ear, peppering butterfly kisses to the back of your neck. Your name fell out of his pretty lips between a cacophony of sinful noises.

You felt yourself get lost in him, craning your head around to take another look at him. His angelic face, scrunched up with pleasure, mouth hanging open just slightly, pale face dusted with pink. Inky black hair plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. The muscles in his chest and torso rippled.

“I’ve wanted you…” You gasped, trying your best to articulate despite the stimulation he was giving you – it was almost too much. “Since I was young – fuck .”

His hips stuttered. He pulled your hair away from your neck, kissing the junction where your jaw met your neck. 

He gripped your hair to crane your head back, slowing his thrusts to long, deep strokes that had you trembling. 

“The feeling was mutual,” Choso grunted, trying to keep himself together.

You felt your eyes roll almost all the way back into your fucking head, mouth hanging open, drooling shamelessly on his pillow, his sheets.

You were close. So close.

Those deep, lust-filled eyes of him weren’t doing anything to slow the train that was coming. Each thrust, each slide of his cockhead against your g-spot brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“You feel even better than I imagined,” He growled, and you nearly came right then and there. 

He moved his hands so that your hips were up in the air for him, bringing his other arm around your neck to pin you there. When he picked up pace this time, you felt yourself drip – like, actually drip – all over him.

I wanna have his kids .

Your moans and pleas matched the pace of his sloppy thrusts. He was getting close, too. You could hear it. No, seriously, noises like that should have been criminal.

The feeling of being filled by him was driving you up the wall – almost as hard as he was currently driving you into the mattress. You never wanted it to end. 

But, shit, it was about to.

“Choso,” You whimpered. He didn’t slow down. “Think ‘m g’nna cum.”

“Yeah?” he gritted out, breath fanning over your neck and your cheek. He reached a hand down, releasing your neck to rub slow circles on your puffy clit – a speed that felt foreign compared to the harsh strokes he was giving you, but not entirely unwelcome.

That was all it took to have you hurling towards the edge, ass jumping up and down to meet his thrust in the middle, to take as much of him in as you possibly could.

“Yeah, shit,” He gasped. He was trying to hold on for you, but you were making it realhard. “G’nna cum for me, baby? Lemme fuckin’ hear it.”

You were all but throwing it back on him, mindlessly chasing your release like a bitch in heat. The moment you got the green light, your orgasm snapped. You cried out his name one final time, arching your back all the way into the sheets, spasming wildly around him. The shock tore through you in waves.

Your hips jolted with hypersensitivity while he fucked you through it.

Choso’s hips stuttered. He twitched, like he couldn’t take another minute of this, then he remarked, “That was so fuckin’ hot, holy shit – fuck, wait–”

He slid out of you rapidly, leaving you to gasp at the sudden loss of him. The next thing you know, he was stroking himself to completion. He came with a broken whimper of your name, spurting ropes of warm cum all over your back.

You took a moment to catch your breath. He did the same. A few moments, actually.

The silence that followed was deafening. He groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair. You collapsed into the bed.

He had left the bedside at one point, though only for a moment before he returned with a warm wash rag. He cleaned his love paint off of your spine.

Then, tossing the rag into his hamper, he collapsed next to you.

You chuckled breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him with all of the strength you had left in you (not much). “Shit…” 

“Shit,” he agreed, licking his lips. “You were great.”

“You were better,” You said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home tonight, though.”

Choso shrugged. He reached down, pulling the covers over the two of you. “Sleep here, then.”

Sleep here.

You recalled many nights of him walking girls to the door. Choso never let girls stay the night.

He wants me to spend the night with hiim.

You laughed, reveling in the irony of it all. Years and years of pining led you here, to this. “What would Itadori think?”

Choso threw an arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his side. “Fuck what Itadori thinks.”

Your world went black a moment later.

Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in the aftermath of a steamy evening with the man of your dreams. Choso, your best friend’s brother. The one you had fucked.

His lips were pressed into the slightest pout. You watched him snore, taking note of how peaceful he looked while he slept, taking note of the way his tousled black hair fell into his pretty face.

With a contented sigh, you reached for a shirt that lay nearby – his shirt. The one he had taken off yesterday. You slipped out from beneath the covers, padding quietly out of Choso’s bedroom. Your feet were quiet against the wooden steps.

As you entered the living room space, you contemplated sneaking into the kitchen in search of some much-needed sustenance. It had to have been later in the afternoon at that point – you assumed that you and Choso had been sleeping for a few hours, at least. Your stomach grumbled in agreement.

Just as you were about to step into the familiar kitchen, however, you froze. There, sitting at the table, munching on a Kit Kat bar like it was no one’s business, was her best friend. 

Itadori.

“Hey…” You said rather awkwardly, heart racing. “You’re… you’re home.”

Itadori quirked a brow, looking you up and down curiously. His eyes noticeably lingered on your neck, right were you had a sneaking suspicion Choso had marked you with his lips and teeth. 

“Hey,” He finally said. “You two finally done up there?”

“You heard that. Of course you did,” You sighed, dropping your stiff arms and plopping into the stool next to him at the kitchen island. You faceplanted into the cold surface, groaning, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know my brother’s good in bed,” Itadori took another bite. He placed a heart over his chest, feigning an exaggerated cry of, “ Choso– oh, Choso, don’t stop, I’m cu–”

“He told me you weren’t coming home,” You groaned, even louder this time. You were glad that Itadori couldn’t see the nasty shade of red that had painted your features.

“He lied,” Your best friend chuckled, crumpling the wrapper of his Kit Kat bar and tossing it in the trash bin. He stood off, dusting his hands on his pants, reaching for his phone. Then, like nothing had happened, he said,  “I’m ordering Chinese. You want?”

You raised your head at that, taking a slow glance at the room around the two of you. “I could go for some beef and broccoli…”

You loved the bond you had with Yuuji. Unbreakable, truly. Sometimes a little toocomfortable. This was, undoubtedly, one of those times.

Itadori dialed a few numbers into his phone. He paused, raising his brow again, “I think you’ve had enough meat tonight, don’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You sighed, though you laughed a bit at his joke. 

Images of Choso flashed through your mind. The image of him spitting on the tip before slipping it in. The image of him tangling a fist in your hair, craning your head back to look at him while he pounded you into the mattress.

With a faint smirk of your own, you remarked. “You’re probably right. I should save room for all of the meat I’m gonna be eatin’ tonight after you go to bed.”

“Please shut up,” Itadori sighed, running the palms of his hands over his exasperated face. With a shake of his head, he held the phone up to his ear. “I really don’t want to think about my brother putting his dick in you. Not while dinner is also in the question.”

You shrugged. Your phone buzzed. Turning it over, you read the new message you had received.

CHOSO    just now

Whered u go beautiful

Your phone chimed a second time.

CHOSO    just now

Steamed dumplings n fried rice plz

You turned the screen over with a grin, telling Itadori. “Your brother wants steamed dumplings and fried rice.”

“I’d say fuck my brother, but tonight’s game night and I don’t want you taking that literally,” Itadori sighed. Still, he unmuted himself, telling the woman on the other side of the phone, “Another order of fried rice and dumplings, too, please.”

Yuuji Itadori really was the best friend a girl like you could ask for.

a/n: hi there my little steamed dumplins <33 lmk what u thought!!! I love reading ur comments and dms. again, this is a one shot, but I would totally drop another part if yall would like -- gotta show papa choso some love. comment and lmk what u think pookiesss

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

wanna join the ' choso kamo ' taglist?| bfb; chapter index

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter three ♡

Summary: Life seems to smooth out with Travis, but an encounter with another Miller stirs your feelings again. Joel comes home at night, and a box waits for him at the kitchen. Word count: 4.8k A/N: Here is a shorter chapter (compared to the previous ones lol) while we're waiting for part 4… Can't wait for the Hoffman's barbecue. Joel isn't usually enthusiastic about it, but something tells me he's not going to miss it this time. ALSO, I have tried to tag all of you, but for some reason some tags don't work, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know <3.

October 17th. The first thing you discovered was a black sweatshirt, crumpled and forgotten, stuffed in the back of your closet among old clothes and memories. You tossed it into the washing machine and set off to search your house for more of Joel’s things. It didn’t take long to find remnants of him: an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, a white mug bearing his initial that you’d pilfered a few months prior, a couple of CDs with his eclectic taste in music, a well-worn paperback novel, and a screwdriver—the very tool you had used to assemble the small piece of furniture for your bathroom, a testament to your attempts at domesticity.

You placed the T-shirt beside the sweatshirt in the washing machine, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash over you as the machine began to spin, the water swirling like your thoughts. The rest of his belongings you carefully set aside in a wooden box, considering when and if you would return them to him. Maybe it would be a gesture of goodwill, a way to close a chapter, but the thought of confronting him felt daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Three weeks later, the distance felt like a weight in your chest. You hadn’t spoken since that last conversation, and every accidental encounter with him had turned into a delicate dance of avoidance, your eyes darting away as if to shield yourself from the unspoken pain. You suspected he was doing the same—his awareness of your schedule precise, his movements deliberate. You didn’t blame him for it; there was a strange gratitude in the space he had created between you, a sanctuary that allowed both of you to breathe.

Sarah, on the other hand, was a constant presence in your life, her visits frequent and welcome. You couldn’t decipher what Joel had shared with her, but she was unequivocal in her understanding that something had shifted between you and her father. 

“Dad said I can come see you as long as I don’t ask too many questions and I don’t fall asleep,” she announced brightly the first afternoon she bounded into your home, just two days after your last exchange with Joel. “But I want you to know I won’t say anything if you want to tell me everything.” 

Her offer was a balm, and despite the lingering pain, you found yourself laughing, the weight lifting slightly as you embraced her. In that moment, you felt relieved to know that Joel had managed to compartmentalize, that his daughter was not to bear the burden of your heartbreak, nor was she responsible for the fallout. You wanted to continue seeing Sarah, and thankfully, she wanted to keep coming over, a small beacon of normalcy in a turbulent time. That connection remained untainted by the rift between you and Joel.

The clock ticked on, and now it was five o’clock on a crisp afternoon. You stood in your front yard, the late autumn sun warming the back of your neck as you surveyed your plants. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle warmth, the way it wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Your lawn and those of your neighbors glowed with the fiery hues of orange and yellow, leaves fluttering like confetti in the soft breeze. It was, as always, your favorite season.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your reverie, calling your name. You turned to see Travis crossing the street, his smile brightening the drab fall afternoon. You waved back, unable to suppress a smile of your own as he approached.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, stopping beside you, his hand settling on your waist as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“As much as I can,” you replied, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and surprising. Your gaze dropped momentarily to your feet before lifting back to meet his. “Going somewhere?”

“On a quest for dessert,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join?”

You hesitated, considering for a moment. “I’d better stay and get some work done,” you replied, gesturing toward your front door with a tilt of your head. “But let me know when you get back; I’d love to help with dinner.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it with a smile. After a brief goodbye, he left, giving your waist a gentle squeeze that sent a flutter through your stomach, leaving you feeling both elated and unsettled.

Two weeks prior, you had watched him run past your house, clad in sports gear, hair damp with sweat. There was something magnetic about him; he looked so effortlessly good that a rush of something—determination? Recklessness?—had surged through you. You couldn’t let your past with Joel hold you hostage any longer. It was absurd to keep Travis waiting, simply because you hadn’t been sure of what you felt, or how you should feel. So, you had gathered your courage and knocked on his door, your heart racing at the thought of stepping out of the shadows of your previous life.

When Travis opened the door, his surprise morphing into delight had made your resolve solidify. You’d admitted to him that you were navigating a rough patch, and to his credit, he seemed to understand without pressuring you further. That night, he whisked you away for dinner, and in the weeks that followed, the ease of your time together became a welcome reprieve. 

He was everything you needed—funny, honest, and refreshingly straightforward. He laid his feelings out without demanding anything from you, giving you space to breathe, to recalibrate. You had shared meals together, enjoying his company, indulging in laughter and sweet treats that he always brought, knowing they were your guilty pleasure. 

With him, everything felt uncomplicated, and the more time you spent together, the more you sensed your feelings beginning to shift, like the autumn leaves around you. That night, you resolved to let him make the first move, ready to embrace whatever came next.

*

“What did you think?” Travis asked, his gaze lingering on you, as if the answer might reveal something bigger.

You let out a laugh, the kind that builds in the chest and escapes before you can decide whether it’s actually funny or just absurd. “That was… utterly ridiculous,” you said, watching the movie credits roll up the screen. “Ridiculous and completely unbelievable.”

He grinned, sinking back into the couch beside you, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of shared amusement. “Right? It’s like... a marvel in chaos. Terrible, but in a way that you can’t look away.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of disbelief and fondness for his strange taste in movies. Zombeavers. He’d made you watch Zombeavers—a movie so bizarrely nonsensical that you couldn’t help but laugh half the time, its zombie-beaver puppets meant to be terrifying but only succeeding in being bizarre. He’d assured you beforehand that it was purely for fun, the kind of film that didn’t demand to be taken seriously, and you’d been dubious but willing.

As your laughter softened, you shifted just a little closer to him, that familiar but thrilling nervousness making your heart flutter. Travis had turned his attention to scrolling through movie options, his fingers lightly tapping the remote as he concentrated. For a brief moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was obvious—how close you were, how much you wanted him to notice. Gathering your courage, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting your gaze drift up to his face just as he glanced down, his eyes softening.

“Are you sleepy, pretty girl?” he murmured, and his voice had that gentle, familiar warmth that made you feel like a teenager again. Your cheeks flushed, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken against him.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you smiled up at him. Tentatively, you lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw, your fingers grazing his skin as you tilted his face closer. “I just like being with you.”

Travis’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness that it nearly broke something in you. His lips met yours softly, a gentle touch, unhurried and respectful, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sank into the kiss, letting it ground you, feeling cherished and safe in a way you hadn’t for a long time.

But there, at the edge of your mind, was Joel. Joel with his intense, almost possessive hunger, the way he’d kiss you as if he were afraid he’d never have the chance again. That rawness, the recklessness—it was such a stark contrast to Travis’s gentle control, his restraint. And part of you hated yourself for even thinking about it, for craving something so reckless, for missing what you knew wasn’t good for you.

You pulled back slowly, afraid that your eyes might betray the swirl of conflicting feelings inside you. Travis’s gaze lingered, his hand still on your cheek, and he seemed almost reluctant to let you go, waiting for you to guide him back in. His patience was admirable, though you felt a strange frustration at the lack of urgency, the careful distance he maintained.

“I’m actually a little tired,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through the slight restlessness in your eyes. “But I’d love to see you tomorrow. How about dinner at my place?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “Sounds perfect.” He stood, reaching out a hand to help you up. “I’ll walk you to your door, and that's just an excuse for another goodnight kiss.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you up, feeling the warmth of his arm around you as you leaned against him. Outside, the air was brisk, the night cool against your skin, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket. Not that it mattered much; Travis lived just across the block, a short walk away, but close enough to Joel’s house that the proximity always felt strange. 

Crossing the street, you noticed Joel’s truck wasn’t there, and you willed yourself not to dwell on it, tuning back in to Travis’s voice as he asked, “Are you going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Going where?” you asked, your voice apologetic. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“To the Hoffmans’ barbecue,” he said easily, unbothered by your momentary distraction.

Ah, the Hoffmans’ annual Halloween gathering, an event known for Brenda’s culinary enthusiasm and Ian’s grill mastery. Last year, Brenda had baked an array of spooky treats—eyeball jellies, spider cupcakes, you name it. Sarah had devoured at least ten jelly eyes, and you’d indulged in an uncountable number of chocolate spiders. The evening had ended with a viewing of Nightmare on Elm Street, and everyone had left buzzing with laughter and sugar.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, nodding with more enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Brenda is amazing at baking. Have you tried her red berry cupcakes?”

“They’re dangerous,” Travis agreed, grinning as he walked you up to your doorstep.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you glanced over to see Tommy, Joel’s brother, sitting on the front porch of Joel’s house, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers. He watched you with a friendly, knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, though you quickened your pace slightly as you reached your door.

“So, what time tomorrow?” Travis asked, tilting his head.

“Eight?” you suggested, feeling an odd mix of excitement and unease.

“Perfect,” he replied, and once again his hand lifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the curve softly. But as he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of invisible eyes from across the street, watching. Your mind lingered, unbidden, on Tommy’s piercing gaze.

Travis leaned down, and you met his kiss, brief, almost rushed, pulling away with a small, nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered, glancing up at him before stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmured.

You stood watching him leave, distractedly thinking about the evening you'd spent. You were annoyed that you hadn't accepted his date earlier, and at the same time, you didn't blame yourself too much. 

When Travis walked into his house and closed the door, an involuntary sigh escaped your chest.

"Everything okay over there?" Tommy’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, sounding like a splash of cold water. He was sitting on the front steps, watching you with a casual curiosity that somehow felt entirely too knowing.

You approached slowly, glancing toward the empty entrance of Joel’s house.

"Hey, Tommy," you greeted, a hint of melancholy coloring your voice. It was strange, seeing him here alone—another Miller, but not the one who lingered in your mind. "How are you?"

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the step, shrugging with a small grin. "Well, currently on a break from babysitting duty," he joked. "What about you? It’s been a while—what’d Joel do now?"

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the irony of it all making your stomach tighten. He probably didn’t know anything, yet he’d been part of Joel’s carefully built wall of deception. It made you feel odd, but you brushed the feeling aside.

"I've just been busy," you said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded.

Tommy nodded, understanding the subtext without question. "Right," he said, an amused smile forming, "So, Dunn got the girl?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, though you realized too late that your openness might be ill-placed. "Yeah. He’s a good man. I really like him."

It felt surreal, sharing this with Joel’s brother, but somehow you didn’t mind.

"Sarah’s asleep?" you asked, changing the subject, hoping for some distraction.

He nodded, his smile softening. "Out like a light right after dinner. Poor kid didn’t even try the ice cream she begged me to get for movie night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

You smiled at the image, letting yourself savor the thought of Sarah, the cozy living room, the quiet warmth that had always drawn you to this house. It felt bittersweet, like glimpsing a life you no longer fit into. The last time you’d been there flickered in your mind, and any warmth vanished.

When you glanced back at Tommy, he was watching you, brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to read what you weren’t saying.

"I don’t mean to pry," he began cautiously, his tone gentle. "But Joel’s been… well, intolerable lately. Can I ask what happened?"

You raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile creeping onto your lips. "Sure, Tommy," you replied, a touch of sarcasm bleeding through. "He hasn’t told you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I asked him once, a couple of days ago, and he practically bit my head off."

You let out a dry sigh, crossing your arms. "He lied to me, pretty sure you know about that," you said, feeling the weight of it again. "We argued, and… things just happened."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, but the look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by a knowing smile. He stood up, crossing his arms as he stepped closer, his gaze amused and unrelenting.

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "You two slept together."

Your mouth fell open, and you dropped your arms, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a step forward, cheeks flushing.

Tommy laughed, as if this moment had been a long time coming. "I always knew it would happen," he said, his tone only half-joking. "Ever since Joel introduced you, I swear, the guy had heart eyes and all. Poor guy looked like he was about to carve your name into every tree from here to the city limits. It was almost embarrassing."

You shook your head, a pang of sadness pressing on your chest. "That’s not it, Tommy. That’s not… it’s not true."

He studied you, unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly, though the amused glint remained in his eyes.

"Joel doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want… us," you continued, your voice quiet but certain. "And honestly, I don’t think I do either." The words tasted bitter even as you said them, yet you held his gaze, determined to mean it. "I think I might actually like Travis."

"I see." Tommy’s nod was slow, his eyes searching yours as if detecting the truth you weren’t quite hiding.

“Where is he?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you almost wished you could take it back. You shouldn’t be concerned about where Joel was spending his nights. But curiosity itched at you, demanding answers.

Tommy hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing off as if debating whether to answer. The pause made you anxious, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. "He, um, he went to see—"

"Sienna," you finished, the name coming out like a blade you hadn’t prepared for. Tommy’s nod confirmed it, and you felt it cut a little deeper than you’d anticipated.

The thought of Joel being with her after being with you twisted something fierce and raw inside. Yet, a part of you was oddly grateful for the pain; it reminded you just how little he’d been affected by all of this, how seamlessly he’d returned to life as it had been. Why should he have changed anything for one night? That didn’t mean enough to make him reconsider Sienna, his plans, his life without you. It was unbearable and somehow clarifying.

With your voice steadier than you expected, you looked back at Tommy. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Come with me for a second." You spun on your heel, heading toward your house, and you heard Tommy’s footsteps fall into step behind you. Inside, you gestured for him to wait in the foyer, then climbed the stairs, your heart pounding. A rush of resentment, of something close to fury, washed over you. You had to rid yourself of everything that still held you back to him, everything he’d left behind.

When you came back down, you were carrying a box, simple and impersonal. Tommy glanced at it, lifting an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"A couple of Joel’s things. Be a dear and save me the trip of bringing them back to him." You smiled tightly, the effort to stay composed nearly exhausting you.

Tommy laughed, clearly amused by the defiance in your expression.

"Yes, ma’am," he said with a grin, giving you a small salute as he took the box. You watched him step over the threshold, the box in his hands, feeling a strange mix of relief and something hollow.

"Thank you, Tommy," you said softly, closing the door as he left. Alone in the quiet of your house, your shoulders slumped, and all the strength you’d gathered felt like it was leaking away, leaving behind the ache of realization. Joel wasn’t just far from you; he was unreachable, a memory already fading, three weeks stretching like an eternity between you and the friend he’d once been.

*

Joel opened the door slowly, shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor before he even stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, as if it were waiting for him to finally fill it. He glanced around the empty living room, feeling the stillness of the space, then checked the time on his wristwatch: 11 p.m. It felt later than that, somehow.

“Tommy?” he called, his voice breaking the silence as he moved into the kitchen, where he found his brother, casually leaning against the counter with a bowl of ice cream, looking like he’d been waiting all night.

“How was your night?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone almost amused, as if he were privy to some unspoken secret.

Joel exhaled, the kind of tired sigh that settled deep in his chest, and dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, dragging it down over his mouth before resting it on the table, the weariness of the day palpable in the lines of his face. His eyes met Tommy’s probing gaze, and he tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Fine,” he replied, his tone clipped and a little defensive. “How was Sarah?”

“She conked out right after dinner,” Tommy replied, a smirk beginning to play at the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowing with that look of brotherly mischief. “And how was Sienna?”

Joel rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, shaking his head as if he could shake off the whole conversation.

“Are you staying over?” he asked after a few beats, redirecting, his voice carefully casual.

Tommy chuckled. “Only if you, sir, will permit me,” he replied with a mock salute.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, getting up from his seat. “Do what you want, but don’t be a pain in my ass,” he added, half-serious, half-amused, as he walked over to the counter beside his brother.

He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Tommy watched him, saying nothing, but his gaze lingered, curious, perceptive. Joel poured water into a glass, bringing it to his lips, pausing for a long drink before turning to face his brother. He could feel Tommy’s gaze boring into him, the silence thickening between them.

Joel looked up, his own gaze steady.

“What?” he asked, the word flat, all pretense of patience gone.

“Nothing,” Tommy said, drawing the word out, clearly testing the limits of Joel’s patience. Then, almost too casually, he tilted his chin toward a box resting by the wall across the kitchen.

Joel followed his gaze, his brow furrowing as he walked over. He lifted the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands, then set it down on the counter. With a cautious look at Tommy, he placed his hands on the lid, hesitating.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “Good for her,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Joel’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tommy, as if by sheer force he could undo his brother’s last statement. “Wait—you asked her? Tommy, you better not be going around—” 

“Relax,” Tommy cut in, hands raised in mock surrender, though there was still a hint of smugness in his expression. “We just had a small conversation, okay? Didn’t even mention you.” 

Joel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though his face betrayed a flicker of something raw. His fingers tapped the box, restless and resentful, as if it were the box’s fault for bringing up everything he didn’t want to admit. Then, his voice low and clipped, he gestured to the countertop. “Clean this up when you’re done,” he said, his tone rough. “And don’t piss me off.” 

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, each step heavy and quick, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The tension in his back, the way his shoulders held too much weight, said enough. Who did Tommy think he was, coming in here with all that, telling him things he didn’t need to hear? He didn’t care about any of it. As far as he was concerned, you could date Travis, marry him if that’s what you wanted. None of it mattered to him. 

But as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his mind raced against his will. You’d been clear, hadn’t you? You didn’t want him in your life. No friendship, no connection, nothing. The words echoed, hollow and yet heavy. And as he reached the top of the stairs, he wondered how many more nights he’d have to wrestle with that idea, struggling to wrap his head around a life where you were nothing more than a memory he had to stop revisiting.

The sooner he accepted it, the easier it would be to see you with Travis, to manage the surge of irritation at the thought of his hands on you, to ignore the image of his arm slung casually around your shoulders. If he could accept it—if he did accept it—it would get easier, right? At least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t care. Obviously, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that you’d decided to shut him out. Didn’t care that you were so resolute about it, that you barely seemed to miss him. He certainly didn’t care that he’d rearranged his mornings and evenings so he wouldn’t have to see you by accident. It wasn’t as if he still glanced at your door every time he came home, half-hoping he’d see you there, offering a smile and some easy excuse to stay. No, he wasn’t dwelling on how long it had been since he’d heard your voice or felt the comfortable warmth of your hand against his. Nearly a month now. And he was perfectly fine with it, honestly. It didn’t bother him one bit.

So fine, in fact, that he ended things with Sienna over dinner without a moment’s hesitation. Her face had gone blank with surprise, but he’d brushed it off, even throwing in some lie about being “too busy” to make it work, anything to avoid her prying questions. She’d looked at him, confused but oddly resigned, as if she’d sensed his mind had been elsewhere for a while. He didn't care, he was fine with it.

But later that night,Travis Dunn had brought you to your door—walked you up, murmured something as he leaned close, maybe kissed you goodnight. Joel didn’t know the details, but the image of it burned into his mind anyway. He sat in his room alone, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, mocking himself for how easily he’d let the thought take root. You, wrapped up with Dunn. Pf.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the empty space beside him, the silence amplifying every unspoken word, every unfulfilled touch. He was fine with it. Of course he was. He repeated it in his mind, willing himself to believe it, even as a hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

And as if the universe were doubling down on the irony, that night he dreamed of you.

-

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame @auteurdelabre

[maskedbyghost]

Stalker - part 2

https://www.tumblr.com/maskedbyghost/761077146667139072/stalker <- part 1

NSFW, MDNI

(simon is a bit possessive in this part too, a lot of you're mine exclamations lol, idk if I like this honestly)

"What are you doing here?" You asked, breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t seen him in months, not since the divorce papers were signed, and yet here he is, standing right at your doorstep. The man you once loved, the man you thought you’d never see again.

"Simon?" You managed to whisper, but when you saw a bouquet in his hands, from the same flower shop your stalker frequently visited, it all came to you. Simon was your stalker. Or something like that. You didn't know what to call him anymore.

He took a step closer, but you instinctively backed away, your hands shaking.

“You—” Your voice faltered, and you struggled to find the words. “You’ve been watching me?”

He stepped into the house—the house you once shared, now heavy with memories. "Please, love, let me explain." He closed the door gently behind him, leaning back against it with flowers still in his hands.

You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, your body stiff with tension. His presence felt suffocating, filling the small space between you, just like the memories of all the times you had waited for him to walk through that same door. But not like this. Never like this.

“Explain?” You scoffed, unable to hide the bitterness in your voice. “How can you explain this, Simon? How do you explain any of this?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he could say a word. “You ruined our marriage, Simon! You left me here, alone in this house. You didn’t fight for us! You didn’t fight for me.” Your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to stay steady.

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away, refusing to show weakness now. “And now, after you’ve already broken everything, you come back as my stalker?” You could barely breathe through the rage, your head spinning with disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?”

Simon stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, before he slowly set the flowers down on the table beside him. Then, he removed the mask from his face, revealing the features you once knew so well—the face you had caressed countless times in the past. Damn it. He was still as handsome as you remembered.

Not now, brain! Focus. His looks couldn’t save him this time, not after everything he had done. Not after all the damage he had caused.

He took a step toward you, but when you instinctively backed away, Simon froze. He let out a heavy sigh and stopped in his tracks. "Please let me explain, and then I promise I will leave you alone."

“You have five minutes,” you said, your voice firm, “and then I want you out.” You turned on your heel and walked toward the living room, Simon following closely behind.

Simon sat down across from you, his expression a mix of desperation and regret. He took a deep breath before he started talking. “I need you to understand something,” he began, his voice steady but strained. “When I left, I was on a dangerous mission, one that I couldn’t discuss with you. I was cut off from communication, and forced into secrecy. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to contact you; it was because I couldn’t.”

He paused, looking down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. “During that mission, someone discovered that I had you. They found out about us and used that information against me. They threatened me, they said that they would kill you, and I had no choice but to stay away. I thought if I kept my distance, they wouldn’t have any way to find your exact location. Instead, I sent a few people here to look after you, and eliminate any possible threat."

Your heart ached as you listened, but you remained silent, letting him continue.

Simon continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I had to deal with those men before I could even think about coming back.”

He swallowed hard, clearly pained. “When you sent the divorce papers, it felt like the final blow. I knew you deserved better—better than the life I was dragging you into. I signed the papers because I thought it was what you wanted. I thought you’d be safer without me.”

Simon’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “I should have fought harder, but I was afraid of making things worse for you. I thought you didn’t want to see me, so I stayed away, even when it was killin' me inside. I started keepin' an eye on you from a distance, trying to make sure you were okay.”

He leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know I’ve caused you so much pain. But I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen. I’m here now because I need to fix this, to make sure you’re safe and that you know the truth.”

The emotions poured inside you—betrayal, fear, love, and a desperate need to understand how everything had spiraled so out of control.

"Why now?" You asked, voice surprisingly calm. "Why didn't you show up earlier?"

“I got tired of dealing with the guys who tried to hit on you,” Simon said, his voice tinged with frustration.

You were left even more confused than before. You knew he could be jealous, but you hadn’t realized how far his possessiveness could reach. “I went on a date, you know?” you said, trying to prove some point at the moment, like he couldn't keep all of the suitors away.

“I know,” Simon growled, his voice tight with frustration. “Your friends were sneaky about setting you up with that fucker, I’ll give them that. I had to sit there for three hours, watching you smile at him, before I could do anythin'.”

"Should I even ask?"

"No." Simple as that. "Fuck, I know my wife is fuckin' perfect, but dealin' with all of them was more exhausting than I ever imagined.” I small smile appeared on his face, and you didn't know what to say. This was all messed up.

Simon slowly approached where you sat and lowered himself to his knees. He took your hands in his, pressing his lips to each knuckle. When his gaze settled on your ring finger, it was empty of course, you had removed the ring the moment he signed the divorce papers. He lingered there, his expression full of regret.

As Simon stared at your bare ring finger, the weight of his actions seemed to hit him all at once. His shoulders slumped, and he looked up at you with eyes full of sorrow.

“Seein' you without the ring,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s like a reminder of everythin' I’ve lost. I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you until now.”

Simon's grip on your hands tightened, his fingers gently tracing the veins on your wrists. “I'm beggin' you, love,” he pleaded, his eyes searching your face. “Please give me another chance. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

"Simon....I don't know."

"You're mine," he hissed, "You belong to me."

His grip tightened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressed against yours. "And I'm not lettin' go of what belongs to me," he growled in your ear.

Simon could see the mixture of emotions playing out on your face. His grip on your arms loosened, but his eyes remained intense, staring deeply into yours.

"I know I've hurt you," he continued when you didn't say anything, his voice a mixture of frustration and pleading. "I know I've made a mess of things. But I've never stopped loving you, not for a single moment."

“Simon, I understand that you’re trying to explain yourself, and I can see that you’re hurting, but your actions have caused a lot of pain, I don't know if I can trust you anymore." You said as the tears filled your eyes.

"I know," he said, his voice wavering. "And I don't expect you to trust me right away. I hurt you, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance."

He gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, his touch soft and tender. "Please, love," his own eyes welling up, "just give me a chance to prove it to you."

You sighed as Simon moved closer, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. When you didn’t pull away, he continued with gentle kisses down your neck, each kiss light. His lips traveled slowly up to your own, pausing just before they made contact. He lingered there, his breath mingling with yours, as he gazed intently into your eyes, his lips hovering near yours as if waiting for permission.

Your breath hitched as he paused, his lips hovering a hair's breadth away from yours. His eyes were filled with a mix of tenderness and raw desire. He waited for a moment, the anticipation hanging in the air. Then, finally, he closed the distance, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was equal parts gentle and desperate.

But the kiss lasted for a moment only, he pulled back, and leaned his forehead on yours, before whispering "You are mine."

You trembled slightly as he tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling gently in that familiar way he used to do. With his lips brushing against yours, he whispered, “No matter what, you will always be my girl, fucking mine. No one can take you away from me, and I'll grovel at your feet for eternity if it means you’d forgive me.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers in your hair, his breath on your lips, and his words leaving you overwhelmed.

"Simon..." you breathed, feeling the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "It's not that simple. You hurt me. You broke my trust."

His grip tightened in your hair, pulling your head back slightly, and his lips pressed against the exposed flesh of your throat. He nipped at your skin, his breath hot on your skin.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as he nuzzled against your neck. “I can’t undo what I’ve done or make up for the pain I caused, but I want you to know that I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to rebuild your trust. I’m willing to wait, to earn your forgiveness, and to prove that I’ve changed. Just please, don’t shut me out completely. I need a chance to make things right.”

Your heart ached at his words, the pain and the love battling within you. The familiar feeling of his body pressed against yours added another layer of confusion to your conflicting emotions.

You reached up and gently ran a hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. A shiver ran down your spine as his breath tickled your skin, a small part of you surrendering to this need for him.

The feel of your hand in his hair and your body close to his sent a shot of desire through his body. He groaned deeply, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you even closer, his body molding to yours.

His lips moved up your neck, his tongue tracing a fiery path up to your ear. "I need you," he whispered, voice thick with need. "I need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you're still mine."

"You know where the bedroom is."

Simon smiled as he got up with you in his arms, he wasted no time in carrying you to the bedroom, his strong arms holding you effortlessly. The air in the room was thick with a complex mix of emotions. On one side, there was the unresolved tension of past hurt and betrayal. On the other, there was a delicate, hopeful sense that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to reconnect and rebuild what you once had together.

[minswriting]

hey hey I saw you're open for requests!

Anything for Hotch getting caught with non-BAU reader who he shouldn't be associated with? Maybe there's an age gap or she's the babysitter or someone's daughter/sister or even an unsub/witness.

Ik its a really broad request but I love your writing so I totally trust you - I just love a semi forbidden ship (without an angsty or sad ending!).

Thanks!!

nsfw | mdni

warnings: talks of murder, stalking, rape (nothing detailed because it’s literally just a summarization thing lol), nsfw content, getting caught, inappropriate relationships, etc.

it all began when you were a victim of a case. you had been getting stalked by an unsub in new york, a man who was killing women that reminded him of the woman that left him. he would stalk his victims before raping and killing them. you had been approached by the fbi, taking you into protective custody to ensure that the same thing didn’t happen to you. and that’s when you met aaron hotchner.

to say the two of you had immediately taken a liking to one another was an understatement. the two of you flirted with each other right off the bat which wasn’t really the best thing to do due to his position. you were a victim, not someone he met randomly at the bar. even so, he just couldn’t get you off of his mind.

so before he left to go back to virginia, aaron had given you his number. and now? well, it’s been a few months and the two of you have been seeing one another regularly like this weekend. you had flown to virginia to visit aaron and stay with him.

the house was quiet as jack had gone to jessica’s to sleepover for the weekend, leaving you and aaron to be alone. the only sounds in the house were the sounds of your moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping together.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” aaron exclaimed as he thrusted his cock inside of you. his brown eyes were looking down directly at your face. your head rested on the pillow, hair sprawled out, cheeks red, and face contorted in pleasure. “you love my cock, don’t you?” he asked as he watched your eyes roll back with each thrust of his cock.

“mhm,” you nodded your head, licking your lips. “i love your cock so much, aaron,” you replied, moaning loudly. “always feels so good.”

aaron rocked his hips, thrusting into you at a pace that felt best for the both of you. his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making you see stars. aaron looked down at your pussy, watching his cock disappear inside of you. your cunt was glistening with arousal. “you’re absolutely soaked,” aaron groaned, bringing a hand to start rubbing your clit.

you simply whined in response, gripping the sheets below you as you felt yourself get near the edge. “i’m so close, aaron,” you moaned, opening your eyes to look at the man in front of you.

“fuck, me too, baby,” he replied.

and just as you felt your peak nearing, there was a “oh no! oh god!” at the door, followed by a small thud, signaling the person had dropped something. “i’m so incredibly sorry, sir, i-uh,” you and aaron both looked at the person at the same time, scrambling to cover yourself up with the blanket.

at the door was a blonde, someone you’ve never met before. “garcia,” aaron’s face hardened as he tried to compose himself, fully covered by the blanket. “what brings you here?”

“i-well, sir,” garcia began, glancing at you and then at aaron. “you hadn’t answered your phone at all in the past three hours and we have a new case so i told the team i’d come here and look for you and well- is that y/n from the new york case?” penelope asked finally as she rambled, looking at you fully.

you looked down at the blanket, being unable to come up with the proper words to speak.

“not that it matters but yes,” aaron exclaimed. “now please, leave. i need to get changed and then i’ll be right there.” and without a second glance, penelope picked up her phone from the ground and left slamming the door closed, leaving you and aaron alone. “i’m so sorry about that,” aaron apologized, looking at you. he grabbed your hand. “i didn’t expect to be needed at all tonight.”

“it’s okay,” you said with a small smile. “duty calls.”

“are you okay?” he asked, checking in on you.

you let out a breathless laugh. “other than being absolutely mortified that your co-worker just walked in on us nailing one another? i’m perfect.” you grinned at your partner.

aaron laughed as well, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. “yes well, i agree.” he exclaimed. “i should get ready. i’m sorry we won’t be able to spend the weekend together.” he said, looking at you with a look of guilt.

“don’t sweat it, aaron,” you said with a reassuring look. “i can come down next weekend. maybe even spend a week?”

“i’d love that,” he said, pulling you into his arms.

“sounds like a date.”

and with that, aaron kissed your forehead and lips before getting up off the bed and getting himself ready. let’s just say that when next weekend rolled around, you guys definitely made up for lost time.

however, the secret that aaron was seeing you had most certainly had been told to the rest of the team.

[lurvly-malice]

"What are you doing to me?"

Pairing: Harvey x GN!Farmer

Summary: Just Harvey being smitten for the farmer whose always occupying his clinic, and mind

A/N: just a fluffly drabble, because Harvey's been dominating my mind lately and I'm bored lol

With each reckless adventure you pursued, you returned to his clinics doorstep with a collection of scratches, bruises, and cuts, and of course, the innocent smile that adorned your face - the sight would be the death of him.

 And each time, he would usher you into the clinic in alarm, he was beginning to suspect you did this on purpose, with the proud look in your eyes that suggested you had him right where you wanted as he doted on you.

'It’s only been a week, really, you would think you’d take more care of yourself by now' he often said under his breath, his voice trembling with nervousness.

You would chuckle, laughter so infectious, brushing off your injuries as normal relics of your adventures. 'Just a few bumps and bruises…nothing you haven't seen before.' you retort, alluding to your countless visits for this sort of thing. 

Harvey's lips would twitch into a wry smile as he guided you to the examination table. Your adventurous spirit both fascinated and alarmed him. It was foreign to him, and couldn't fathom how willingly you’d over exert yourself in those darn mines, stirring within him a whirlwind of emotions.

As he applied bandages and ointments, his hands couldn't help but tremble. The sight of your injuries, no matter how trivial, sent his heart into a frenzy. As a doctor, he'd seen such it all, and yet even the sight of a purple bruise on your soft skin made him want to faint. Each touch of your skin ignited a spark he could neither ignore nor deny, no matter how much practice he’d had treating patients every day. He'd learnt his lesson by now - you weren't a regular patient.

‘I really do wish you’d be more careful,' he would murmur, his fingers tracing over a shallow cut on your arm. 'You... you're hurt too often.'

And then you would respond with a comment like ‘but you’ll take good care of me, right?’, casually sending the poor man’s heart into a tailspin, because of course he would, always.

‘I-I’m serious, you know-’ he sighed, trying so hard to sound annoyed, but he wasn't, his concern evident in his shaky words, ‘I care about you’ he managed, avoiding eye contact with you under the pretence of focusing on your present injury.

But of course, like always, you didn't take him very seriously, and just leaned in a little, eyes twinkling.  ‘I care about you too, Harvey’ which had his head snapping up, wide eyes meeting your amused ones, unable to mask his flustered expression - what was he going to do with you?

Harvey's breath caught in his throat. Your words had always elicited such a potent reaction, but this time, it felt different. The weight of his own unspoken feelings pressed down on him.

Your visits had become a sweet torment for Harvey. How sweet you looked, scratched up arm extended offering him a gift - always his favourites, which you somehow had memorised to a tee, ignoring the pain you felt just to see him flustered as he accepted them.

Harvey's constant worry over your well-being extended to himself. The mere thought of seeing you sent his temperature soaring and his pulse racing. The symptoms he experienced—sweaty palms, flushed cheeks, and a pounding heart—often led him to question his own health.

'Oh dear, I must be coming down with something,' he would mutter to himself, his stethoscope barely grazing his chest in a futile attempt to make sense of his frazzled state.

What were you doing to him?

[little-diable]

Commands - Draco Malfoy (smut)

A small Drabble I wrote at work lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco is reader’s step-brother, something he doesn’t seem to care about while asking her to put her mouth to work. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, oral (m), degrading, stepcest, dumbification, slight slapping

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (1.1k words)

“Draco?” Her voice dripped with sleep, eyes burning in exhaustion as she looked at the dark frame. She had been woken by the sound of his feet stepping onto the one spot of the old wooden flooring creaking too loudly. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet!” Her breath instantly hitched in her chest, eyes zoning in on her step brother who stepped closer to her bed. She didn’t dare speak another word, too focused on the man who had always treated her with spite and anger, at least for most parts of the day. At night he behaved differently, as if his demons finally managed to get the upper hand, guiding his lust and longing for his step sister.

“I’m tired, Draco.” (Y/n) sighed her words before plopping back down on the mattress. She was about to cover her barely clothed body with her blanket, but Draco was faster. He ripped the fabric from her fingers, exposing the shirt of his she wore, managing to cover the lacy pair of panties she knew Draco loved.

Perhaps she had hoped for another visit, perhaps she had prayed that he’d find her again. Longings she didn’t dare put into words, at least not out loud.

“Don’t lie to me, we both know you’re a greedy fucking whore for your step brother, aren’t you?” He kneeled on the mattress, forcing her legs apart to settle between them. His cold fingers danced over her arms, moving up to her shoulders before one hand came down on her throat, letting his fingers grasp her. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” She only managed to press a whisper past her clenched teeth, trying not to give in all that easily. Draco had always managed to gain the upper hand, to guide her while she got lost in the waves of pleasure like a raft losing its path in the icy river it was sailing on.

“Good. I need those pretty lips wrapped around me.” He hadn’t been able to find any rest, unable to give in to sleep's quiet call. Draco’s mind had been too active, thinking of the woman sleeping only a few rooms down from his, wondering what she was dreaming of. (Y/n) was haunting his thoughts, had been ever since their parents had gotten married years ago. He had tried to stay away, all until her twenty-first birthday they had celebrated together, a night where he had claimed her for the first of many times.

(Y/n) rose to a sitting position before she put her weight onto her knees. Draco’s hand on her throat pulled her in for a kiss, momentarily distracting her while her hands rested on his chest. Her body was covered in goosebumps as if he was winter itself, embracing the biting cold that left marks on her body, burning straight through her system.

He was the darkness, the bleak midwinter she had eventually found enjoyment in.

Draco leaned back against the headrest of her bed after pulling off his shirt, exposing his abs to her wandering eyes. He watched her free his cock, watched her spit down on the red tip just like he had taught her to months ago. By now she was a natural, knowing what he was aching for, how he needed to feel her to get that push to clear his racing mind.

His ringed fingers found her head almost instantly, forcing her down on his cock with a satisfied groan clawing through him. With his eyes pressed shut, Draco sank into her touch, allowing (y/n) to bob her head fast enough to leave him moaning. Her sounds were almost as loud as his, clawing through her while she worked her mouth on him, a sinful, forbidden mixture both had fallen in love with.

“Atta girl, your mouth’s so perfect for me.” Heat flushed through her, set on gaining as much praise as possible. Draco wasn’t one for complimenting her, wasn’t one for showering her with attention, only in those secret moments where she touched him like that would he give in and tell her how much he adored her – her body at least.

With her eyes set on his features, on his closed eyes, on the teeth nibbling on his lower lip, she kept sucking him off. The corners of her mouth were still hurting from yesterday night, a strange deja-vu she couldn’t shake as she took as much of him as possible. She didn’t care much about her own pleasure, didn’t worry much about her own highs he’d give her either way. All (y/n) was focused on was Draco, his pleasure, his sounds, the praise his body would wordlessly share with her.

He twitched in her mouth, resting heavily on her tongue. (Y/n) knew that he’d cum soon, painting her tongue white with his release – a fulfilling taste she was already aching for. Seeing a man like Draco cum was an experience itself, a moment so raw, so intimate, she sometimes found herself wondering if she was only dreaming it.

“Tell me what you’ll do, tell me the rule.” Draco pulled her off his cock, watching her saliva drip from her chin while her hand kept pumping him. (Y/n) needed a second to collect herself, pondering over his command while her throat begged for a break. She heavily swallowed as his hand came down on her cheek, not hard enough to hurt her, just with enough pressure to refocus her. “Such a dumb slut, all because you have the privilege to suck me off.”

“I’ll swallow, swallow it all!” It seemed to be good enough for Draco. He nodded his head with a smirk tugging on his lips, head tilted back down to his cock to wordlessly guide her. Almost instantly, (y/n) got back to work, lips finding their way back to his tip to suck on the head. Another moan broke through Draco, a moan that slightly trembled as his orgasm started to build.

With excitement laced in her gaze, (y/n) watched him come undone. Sweat was pearling on his forehead, making a few bright strands of his hair stick to his skin, lips parted, cheeks rosy. A moan left him as he came, filling her cheeks with his cum as she kept pumping his cock with her aching fingers.

Draco pulled her off his cock once again, staring down at her as she exposed her empty tongue to him. His thumb wiped along her lower lip, collecting some saliva before bringing his digit up to his mouth. They held eye contact as he sucked his finger clean, gazes wandering over one another’s features.

“I want you on your hands and knees when I return. Don’t you dare move.”

[neos127]

SWIM — SIM JAEYUN

sim jake x fem!reader genre. friends to lovers, fluff cw. suggestive, borderline smut lowk lol wc. 1.8k notes. y’all i cannot write kiss scenes im so sorry

‘the water's getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim’

The lights on the pool walls illuminated the blue water while reflecting onto Jake’s pretty face. He swam around the pool happily, his eyes gleaming and his lips pulled into a small smile. You watched him from the edge, kicking your feet lightly in the glowing water. Jake begged you to join him earlier, but you denied, not wanting to get in with your sweatpants and t-shirt.

“It’s our last night together and you’re not gonna join me?” Jake whined, looking at you with his infamous puppy dog eyes. He knew that you were unable to resist them, so he typically used that to his advantage when he wanted something.

You, being a childhood best friend of Jake’s, had visited him for one of Enhypen’s tour stops. You had been vacationing in LA around the same time of the concert and Jake knew that he couldn’t pass on the opportunity to see you again. It had been a couple months since you two last reconnected in Korea and he had missed you more than he’d like to admit. Your soft giggles and electrifying touches often occupied his mind late at night so to experience it in person again, Jake was sure he was on cloud nine.

“I don’t want my sweatpants to get all wet. It’ll be uncomfortable.” You mumbled, pretending to pick lint off the fabric so you were looking at something other than Jake’s intense gaze. It’s as if he wanted for you to fall even deeper in love.

“You can take them off.” He suggested, smirking when you gasped and splashed water in his face. The idea was highly suggestive and you didn’t expect such words to come from the boy. Others would’ve assumed that Jake suggested the idea innocently, but the glint in his eye said otherwise. Knowing Jake since you both were climbing playgrounds made it easy to catch all of his tells. It was impossible for him to lie to you, and it was also hard for him to say one thing when he meant something totally different and you not catching on.

Jake knew that, which gave him the confidence he needed to finally make you his.

“I’ll take off my shirt if that makes you feel better.” He spoke up, tugging on the black tank top he wore. Your eyes widened slightly at the suggestion. You hadn’t seen Jake without a shirt since the two of you were splashing in the ocean waters back in Australia. Of course you hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, only focused on hanging out with the boy you called your best friend.

But now— seeing Jake slowly pull the article of clothing off his body made your mind travel to terrible places. You tried to convince yourself that he was only your friend and that having such thoughts about him was wrong. But the way his muscles flexed due to his movements made any logic you had fly straight out the window.

“You um…you don’t have to do that.” You choked out nervously, watching as Jake swam over to you, shirt long disposed of on the side of the pool.

“I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable. But if you don’t want to, that’s okay.” Jake replied, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but smile back at him, his grin infectious as always and of course he had been very thoughtful. Jake never forced you into anything, or made fun of you for not joining in on his festivities. That’s why you felt so drawn to him, he just seemed to care about you more than anything.

“No, I’ll join you.” You decided, standing up from the edge of the pool. As soon as you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt, Jake turned away to give you some privacy (and hoping to hide his flushed face). You then took off your sweatpants before immediately jumping into the pool, scared that someone would see you. It was one in the morning so that wasn’t very likely, but you hoped if anyone did happen to walk out that they would assume your underwear was simply a bathing suit.

You swam over to Jake, tapping him on the shoulder so he could turn around. As soon as he did, he kept his eyes on yours, knowing that you would catch him if he tried to let them wander somewhere else. Jake sucked in a breath, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t suggested the idea of you joining him. He wanted to focus on your eyes, he really did, especially when you were explaining how amazing your trip had been. But the way your boobs sat so perfectly in your bra was making Jake’s mind go haywire. He swore he couldn’t focus on anything else, not catching any of the words falling from your pretty lips.

“Jake, hey! Stop looking down there, you freak.” You scolded the boy, suddenly feeling self conscious under his gaze. You knew that he wasn’t judging you, he would never. But his gaze looked almost hungry, and that made you feel slightly insane.

“I swear I wasn’t being weird I was just…admiring your bra color, is that burgundy?” He lied right through his teeth. You slapped his hand away when he reached out to touch you, laughing at the ridiculousness of his answer. If there was one thing you definitely knew about Jake, he couldn’t lie for shit.

“Yeah, yeah. Can we just swim now?” You asked shyly, making Jake nod with excitement. He tried his best to ignore the growing desire he felt settling in his stomach, and it worked once the two of you engaged in a splash war. It felt nice to hang out with Jake, you missed all of the quality time you would spend together back in Korea. He never failed to make you laugh with his dorky jokes and you were positive you hadn’t felt so happy since you last hung out.

“I’m getting bored, we should go back in.” You commented after about an hour, observing your fingers that had shriveled up like raisins. Jake whined, pouting once more at your words.

“C’mon, just a little bit longer. I mean, how can you ever get bored with that view?” Jake asked, pointing to the gorgeous skyline in front of the hotel. You sighed and shook your head, knowing that you weren’t planning to leave against his wishes. Jake just had that kind of hold on you.

“What more is there for us to do in here?” You asked, mentally going over all of the games you both played along with pausing to rest against the ledge and catch up with each other. Jake watched as you slowly ran your hands through the water, waiting for his answer. The boy felt awe struck for a second, observing your pretty features and body that he so desperately wanted to see twitching against him and covered with marks from his mouth.

As soon as you looked up from the water and met Jake’s gaze, he finally felt the confidence to act on his urges. Jake moved closer and reached over grab your waist, making you shiver at the contact. You hadn’t expected Jake to be so bold, but you weren’t complaining.

“I can think of a few things.” Jake said in a singsong voice, watching as your eyes widened slightly and your breathing began to pick up. Your chest moved up and down rapidly, causing Jake to look down again. He held back a groan, his shorts feeling tighter and tighter as he waited for your reply.

“What-what if someone sees?” You stuttered, suddenly feeling very warm in Jake’s grasp. He moved even closer to you, his nose rubbing against yours. You gulped, closing your eyes in anticipation. You hoped that Jake couldn’t feel your rapid heartbeat— but he could probably tell how nervous you were as it had been quite obvious.

“We’re not going to get caught, I promise you. But if you don’t want this, I’ll let you go. Don’t be afraid to tell me what you want.” Jake said, his eye contact making you feel dizzy. You didn’t say anything, running your hands through Jake’s wet hair before pulling him into a kiss. About an hour ago you would have never been so bold, but with the dark look in Jake’s eyes and the way his hands caressed your skin, you concluded that he felt the same way.

Jake groaned against your mouth, closing the already tight distance between your bodies. This kiss was feverish and desperate, with your hands intertwining deeper into Jake’s hair and his gripping your body hard enough to leave a bruise. You felt your mind short-circuit, your stomach twisting as Jake’s lips molded against yours. The moment was perfect, and his kiss felt even better than anything your imagination could conquer up.

Jake ran his tongue across your bottom lip, making you whine against his mouth and open yours to him. The kiss became sloppier as your tongues overlapped each other with urgency, and you moved your hands to lightly tug on Jake’s hair. He let out a soft moan against your mouth before grabbing your thighs and making you wrap your legs around his waist. Your body was flush against his and it became easy to feel how aroused he was.

“J-ake, w-wait.” You gasped out, suddenly becoming very aware of what you two were doing.

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me that you don’t want me and I’ll back up right now.” Jake sighed against your mouth, his hold on you still tight. You didn’t want him to leave, his warmth and pillowy lips were absolutely intoxicating. Jake seeing you at such a state was just a bit intimidating and it also meant that the two of you needed a long talk on where you stood with each other. Best friends certainly didn’t makeout and grind on each other in a pool. But Jake looking at you with such desire pushed any doubts and fears you had into the back of your head.

Oh fuck it.

“Please, don’t stop.” You whispered, barely letting the boy get a word out before your lips were on his again. Jake let out a low whine, the sound traveling straight to your gut and where you needed him the most. Suddenly detaching his lips from yours and leaving a messy trail of spit, Jake began to move his head down to your neck. You let out an airy moan, your hips snapping against his in response. Jake let out a choked sound against your skin before continuing the assault on your neck and meeting his hips with yours.

“Feels good?” He asked, continuing to lick and suck on all of your weak points. He seemed so skilled at the act, his teeth nipping your neck followed by his tongue gently sweeping over the sore spot.

“Yeah.” You sighed, watching as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when he fingers slowly slipped past the band of your underwear. You already looked incredibly fucked out which amused Jake considering he hadn’t touched you yet.

“By the way, don’t hold back. I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make.” Jake said before moving your underwear to the side. You nodded and a shaky breath left your lips, making the boy chuckle and kiss your cheek to help calm your nerves.

“Good girl.”

dts; @junityy for listening to me rant about this fic nonstop and @en-fvr for helping me with the makeout scene lol anddd @jaeyunverse who wanted a tag i love u guys

[endearng]

The books that I keep by my bed — are full of your stories

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader Summary: The answer is: you don't. | Part 2 to Lifeline. WC: 1.9k Warnings: none :) this is pure fluff and maybe a little delusional lol considering reader's background A/N: I have no excuse for myself, I love to call people I love and read to them. I feel like Spencer would love that as well. The title is based on the song 'Sloom', by Of Monsters and Men. <3 | masterlist

Now, a year after the incidents that made your life change for the better, as you wake up every day, you can remember the first thing you see. Maybe the white ceiling as the soft fabric of your duvet grazes your skin. Maybe a vision of your window. Maybe your nightstand, where you keep sort of a shrine — a current read, a picture of you as a kid, your reading glasses, a lamp, your favorite watch, the sobriety chip that you always put in your pocket whenever you went out. And the letters you got from Spencer, of course.

Things had been getting better, even if you had ups and downs. You slowly made your way back to college and were taking your last classes before graduation. You had an internship in a practice that allowed you to be in contact with the career you wanted to pursue, helping others through therapy. You also found your family again, having moved out of Richmond, but staying in touch and casually visiting them when you were in need of a shoulder. through it all, you got letters from dr. Spencer Reid.

You haven't met much, of course. He had stayed with you as long as he could when you were at the hospital, but he claimed that he would stay in touch. True to his words, you got letters weekly and sometimes he would call you late at night, being forced to by the timezone, in need of someone to talk to. You picked up every time and, at some point, you went to sleep hoping you'd get woken up by the sound of your phone ringing.

His letters always told stories that helped you fall asleep: creative, funny, gut wrenching at times. As time went by, you found out that, besides a great friend, he was also an incredibly talented writer. Spencer wasn't very good at disguising that it was he and his experiences that he talked about, no matter how hard he tried to convince you otherwise. You'd laugh about the fact that you were able to see right through him.

As soon as the phone stops ringing, letting him know you've taken his call, his face lights up in a smile. "Today was a good day."

"Is that so? What happened?" He asked, heart skipping a beat at the sound of your voice.

"I made some new friends at university." You squeal in excitement. He can feel the smile on your face. "They are a bit younger than me, but they are very supportive."

"I'm glad you have new friends now. University can be very demanding and overwhelming. It's important to have good company." He said, picking on a fingernail.

"I have you." You said, clutching the locker between your fingers.

He faltered.

"Y-yeah, but, you know... I'm not always around."

Glancing at your bedtime stories, you say, "You are". Yes, they are yours, because he wrote them for you.

Spencer gulps. God. This... This is getting out of hand.

Quietness. "Anyway, how was your day, Spencer?"

"It was... good. We just solved the case, but we're too tired to go back to Quantico now." He replied mindlessly.

"Then why aren't you getting some rest?"

He blurted out, "I needed to check on you."

A sigh from your end. He didn't quite know how to read that, since he was unable to look you in the eye, but he preferred thinking that you were happy that he called. "Thank you for doing that. But, you know, I'm doing good." Silence. "Are you?"

"I am, yes. I'm happy to talk to you."

"I always look forward to our calls. And your letters. You know, you're getting better at disguising yourself, Reid." You chuckle, imagining him rolling his eyes at you. "Don't say a word. Come on! A guy who sits and watches time going by? That's you! Although I was a little shocked to see that he wasn't stuck in place forever. That's a first."

He chuckled. "I assume you like it, then?"

"Very much," you quip. "I have a question, though. Is this a metaphor?"

"What for?"

"I was thinking. That guy you wrote about stays in place, apparently rooted to the spot, but suddenly he witnesses something unsettling in front of him and decides it's time to go, right?" he nods, although you can't see him. "Where to?"

"To his place."

"As in his house? Does he have one?"

Lying down on the mattress, he closes his eyes, focusing on your voice and how absolutely naive you were. "He might, yes. I might write about it whenever I can."

Again, he can feel your smile. "I'll be waiting, then. I'm glad you called."

Spencer falls asleep to your voice reading the short story he had written you, his phone clutched near to his wild heart.

—

Tonight, Spencer would actually come in to visit you. It was about time you two properly hang out together, after endless months of phone calls and letters sent to you — you had joked once that maybe he should come over. That made him drive all night to get to you.

You were a mess, having meticulously cleaned your apartment over and over so that it would be spotless when he arrived. You looked around and felt a strange sense of pride; the decor reflected the new stage of your life, the best one so far. The plants that adorned your living room, as small it may be, made you feel like you had something to care for, something to come home to. Something to be here for.

The doorbell rang. You thought you felt a ghost of sweat run down your back. Taking a deep breath, you saw Spencer Reid.

"Hi," you breathed out, the biggest, most honest smile on your face. He smiled back.

If the sun was a person, it would look like you.

In a hoarse voice, he greeted you back. "Hi."

Spencer took in your appearance. Your cheeks were fuller, your eyes were now brighter and your smile reached them. He had never seen such a sight before, and he felt his heart rate speed at the thought that it was for his eyes only. You were smiling at him. He fought the itch to give you a hug, thinking that it would be too much for you. A thought hit him then: that he would, that he could never do anything to upset you in any form.

All that from a smile alone.

"Come in, please," you said, making room for him to enter. "I'm dying to show you something."

Entering your apartment, he muttered, "I'm dying to see what it is."

Upon his arrival, the light seemed brighter and you could barely stop yourself from grinning like a damn fool. What did you do to my eyes?

"It's just a draft. I'm still working on it."

Pulled out of his reverie, he managed a small grin. Your hair was thicker, fuller, framing your face so beautifully. Your clothes fitted you a lot better and you looked very happy. Whether it was from seeing him or in general, Spencer didn't know, but he allowed himself to indulge at the precious thought. Your big, round eyes looked at him expectantly as your delicate hands held a paper out to him. Your graduation speech.

Looking at the yellowed sheet, he took it in his hands, fingers subtly brushing yours. You look at your hands. His touch doesn't make your skin crawl. It burns it.

This is the draft of a speech. I'm making sure to point this out because I must know what I'm going to say and what I won't. These last few months were challenging, but I'm finally starting to feel like myself again. I can see myself in the mirror and it's not a stranger. I'm no longer a stranger to the world, either. I talk to people. I understand them. I feel like doing things. It turns out that it wasn't too late. That I wasn't dead. I am not dead. And it took me bravery, a few people to whom I owe my life and that's not an overstatement, but that I'd like them to know that I'm immensely grateful for not letting me bleed myself out of my body. There's still me in here. And I'm nurturing her back to health with the help of my loved ones.

I'll never forget how you made me heal.

"I know it's not the best and I have a lot to say, but, um, I wanted you to see my first thoughts and I'm a bit scared you won't be there to hear me say it." You said, looking at him, who still glanced at the paper. "It's not like anything you write, because you sure have a way with words that I don't, but the thing is, I want you to feel like you've saved me. Because you did."

Unable to control his expressions, his brows furrowed as his eyes watered. You widened your own at him. "Shit. I... I'm sorry," you chuckled once he grinned at your curse. "You made me feel and realize so many things with no need for words. You looked at me and I felt seen, not wanted, not desired, not frowned upon... I felt seen. And I remember the look on your face every time I lay my head on the pillow."

It escapes him. He thinks he is just thinking it, but his mouth, lips, voice, everything betrays him. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever known."

Your flushed face, your mouth agape and your averted gaze make him smile. Warmth floods his chest when you say, "I'm lucky you think that."

"I'm lucky we met."

"I wanted to be the same way I once was before everything happened. But I guess that, I think I like me now. I like moving on. I like finding life again. And I know that whatever happens to me, I know it's better than anything."

"I want to happen with you."

Wrapping your arms around his torso, listening to his frantic heartbeat, you inhale deeply, your senses going haywire by the sheer presence of him. Your conversations made your heart feel fuller, his desire and questions to find out about you made you feel whole and you nurtured your curiosity about him as well. "Tell me how the drive went."

"It went well."

It is funny how people tend to shift between preferring the destination or the journey. To Spencer, it was both, and his analytic mind had, for once, trouble deciding between two things: the journey, where the anticipation of seeing you made his heart feel overwhelmed with joy over the mere prospect of looking in your eyes after months of falling asleep to the sound of your voice; or the destination, where he finally held you in his arms and your body pressed to his made everything feel realer than it ever was on his life.

Smiling softly, you look up at him to brush a strand of his hair out of his face. His heart flutters because of your adoring gaze. "I love your eyes. Um, I think that they are gorgeous," you remark in that soft melodic voice that read him his short stories.

Spencer smiled, unable to look away or to fight the blush creeping on his cheeks. Her genuine compliment left him speechless. "You... you have a way with words, you know that?" He inquired rhetorically with a tone that was a mixture of vulnerability and genuine surprise. "Your... compliments, they're..." He clears his throat, smiling dumbly, giddily, as his mind tries searching for the right adjective on his brain that apparently had short-circuited.

"... All yours. They are all yours."

The man rooted to the spot made his way back home.

[afsosville]

I wonder how things would change if Shen Jiu had the ability to project his memories and emotions like The Giver, or Blue Diamond from Steven Universe by some artifact fuckery or if he was born with the power. Maybe a better way to describe it is Wei Wuxian's empathy.

If it's a one-time artifact mishap during a mission or smt, he's got everyone kneeling over, unable to move an inch because of how much physical pain they're in. And don't forget all the emotional pain they're hopelessly dealing with, too (the memories don't have to be included, just the emotional wreckage and physical pain is enough).

All the while, they expect their Shen Shixiong to roll over and scream in agony, coz obviously smn as spoiled as him who's never had any bit of hardship in his life would feel it the worst. Then, they're seeing him going on with the mission and fighting like he's not affected at all, and then it hits them-

Oh.

They're his emotions.

If it's an inate ability, then I imagine he's using it to make his life easier, even if it's just a bit.

Like just give QJL the pain of his beatings or whatnot. Every whip gets inflicted on to QJL until the whippings stop completely. This will probably make QJL make SJ suffer even more, but that also stops when he realizes SJ has the power to make QJL go thru the same shit and will do it with absolute glee. Maybe SJ manages to free himself earlier bc of this. But there's a possibility he'll still stay to wait for YQ. If he does, then he's constantly engaging in psychological warfare with QJL and winning. That would be interesting to write abt ejrgkdkf.

This ability will ofc makes things easier if QHT stays insistent that her family treated him well.

Or like when he's being confronted for the the first time for his brothel visits, he's making LQG feel what it's like to not feel safe in the place you're supposed to sleep. And he keeps doing this every night until LQG is almost never sleeping and the mountain anymore and understands.

During peak lord meetings, he's subtly giving everyone a bit of his paranoia/anxiety, so now he's got everyone agreeing with him, and are listening to him.

He's also torturing slavers and rich nobles with his memories as well bc of a sense of righteous retribution, or just for the fun of it.

This could make Shen Jiu development a Them vs. Me complex, he's already a pro at it as it is except he's differentiating himself from those rich nobles and the like and wants nothing to do with them. Ideally this will make him conscience of the way he's treating his disciples, bc he'd be manually giving his memories/trauma to his disciples, he's just doing it without the ability lol.

He hated being grouped with ppl who were like him in the book, so now I'm making him have that energy for nobles who push around their weight instead. And would despise ever acting that way.

For angst points>>

He's tries to soothe his disciples with the slightest scraps of the good memories he does have bc he has no idea what else to do, but doesn't work and he acidentally gives bad memories instead :/

[lu-dao-writes]

A Hard Pill to Swallow

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: Feng Xin and Mu Qing have always been at each other’s throats, and you’ve dealt with it, but now you can’t.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) Spoilers for vol 2, gn!reader, reader is a martial god who served XL, mentioned blood and injury and death, arguing (MQ & FX), ambiguous relationships and ending.

𝘼/𝙉 The ending is open ended, but I like to think it’s Jun Wu that visits you, hehe, cause that man is sus. But hope you enjoy. I’ve been unable to do much lol, but I managed to do this while sick. Also!! If anyone finds and gets the reference I used, I fucking love you fr🤣💕. ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

You were the first to arrive at Xiè Lián’s recently erected palace, mind still reeling from the meeting that occurred an hour ago.

Xiè Lián had admitted to a huge crime, claiming he was the one that slaughtered Láng Qiānqiū’s family during the Gilded Banquet.

Xiè Lián, who was nothing but righteous and good, killed the monarchy of Yǒng'ān because he “couldn’t stand to see them on the throne”.

Yeah, you don’t believe that. Not one bit.

Xiè Lián greets you at the door looking a little disheveled, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his non-injured arm. You wince at the blood and at your foolishness for forgetting to bring something to alleviate it.

“Oh, hello,” Xiè Lián offers bashfully.

“Ā-Lián,” you sigh, reaching out to grasp his sleeve, and he grips yours before allowing you inside. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything, I-I just needed to see you.”

Xiè Lián waves off your apology with a smile, sitting down. “Don’t worry it doesn’t even hurt. Jūn Wú did enough.”

“But—.”

The doors open and light footsteps come towards you and Xiè Lián, Mù Qíng soon appearing. His dark eyes meet yours before cutting to Xiè Lián, a scoff leaving his lips. “What? Expecting Fēng Xìn? As if.”

“Mù Qíng,” you start warily.

“What are you doing here?” Xiè Lián chimes in softly.

“The emperor detained you in your little palace. He said His Highness Tài Huá couldn’t come, but I’m not him,” Mù Qíng replies flippantly, digging into his sleeve. He fishes out a small porcelain bottle and tosses it to Xiè Lián. “It’s pitiful watching you sling that bloody arm of yours. Use it or don’t, but no one else is going to help you.”

Mù Qíng has a little smirk on his face, reminding you of a pit viper. It makes you frown disapprovingly, but Xiè Lián doesn’t acknowledge his attitude, and instead he opens the bottle and watches as the medicine does it’s work.

“So did you really slaughter the royal family? How’d you do it?”

“Mù Qíng!?” you exclaim, appalled by his inappropriate excitement and questioning.

“What are you doing here?” Fēng Xìn’s naturally boisterous voice startles them all, but Mù Qíng’s shock turns into something more ugly, disdain washing over his morbid excitement.

“I’m a guest here like you and anyone else is. Last I checked this isn’t your palace.”

Fēng Xìn glowers at him before briefly making eye contact with you before approaching Xiè Lián, his face softening. “Your Highness, what you said at the Palace of Divine Might-.”

“Yes,” Xiè Lián cuts in softly, finality in his voice and expression. “I killed them.”

Fēng Xìn pales along with you, and Mù Qíng looks briefly startled before going for Fēng Xìn again.

“What’s that expression for? Don’t make me laugh.”

You sigh and rub at your temples. “You guys-.”

“It’s not for or about you! Get lost!”

Mù Qíng looks excited again. “That is rich coming from you! As if you’re so loyal; how long did you stay around for again?”

Fēng Xìn grits his teeth, his fists tightening at his sides as a fire is lit ablaze in his eyes.

Xiè Lián fiddles with his his sleeves anxiously, a slight look of anguish on his face. “Please you two, let’s not talk about this right now..”

You on the other hand, typically the calm one and their mediator, are not feeling the aster. Your pulse is thrumming and frustration begins to bubble in your belly. “Okay, stop this right now,” you demand.

But of course yours and Xiè Lián’s pleading goes unheard.

Mù Qíng takes a step closer, finger poking at Fēng Xìn’s chest. “Some say you left because you couldn’t stand to see your former master fall from grace. Tch, such a pretty excuse, but we all know the real reason. You just couldn’t stand to spend the rest of your days cleaning after a broken man!”

“You shut your fucking mouth!” Fēng Xìn practically roars, swinging his fist at Mù Qíng, hitting the delicate looking man square in the cheek, causing him to stumble back into the cabinet, holding his cheek as he glares daggers through his curtain of dark tresses.

You and Xiè Lián gape, the latter standing up, sending his chair backwards.

“Fēng Xìn, Mù Qíng, stop!”

“You think everyone is as vile as you, but I don’t take joy in watching him suffer!” Fēng Xìn snaps, throwing another punch, but Mù Qíng dodges and smashes his own fist into Fēng Xìn’s face.

“Enough!” you exclaimed, only to be ignored and the two to ruthlessly attack one another, breaking a few pieces of furniture.

You escort Xiè Lián out safely before trying to break the other two up from their brawl, but it ends up with you getting shoved aside aggressively by Mù Qíng.

Just as your ass hits the floor, the main doors to Xiānlè Palace opens and a swarm of deathly spirit butterflies come inside, fluttering past Xiè Lián and heading straight for you, Mù Qíng, and Fēng Xìn. You’re yanked behind Mù Qíng as he and Fēng Xìn use a shield to protect themselves, and you from the swarm.

But during this you’re frozen, appalled that you were just shoved by someone you’ve been close to since before you ascended. You watch as Xiè Lián doesn’t put up a fight with Huā Chéng, who steals him away.

You say nothing as chaos goes down in the communication array, only eventually piping up in your private communication array with Xiè Lián. “Ā-Lián…?”

“Ā-(Y/N)?”

“Are you really okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. I promise.”

You believe him this time, especially as he looks so comfortable with Huā Chéng beside him. You bravely look at the Ghost King. “Keep him safe, please.”

Huā Chéng acknowledges you with an assured little smirk and a nod before he and Xiè Lián both disappear.

Although Huā Chéng is feared, you’ve always trusted Xiè Lián for the most part.

Fēng Xìn and Mù Qíng are still arguing with one another, their voices infuriating you.

“Why are you lying and saying he escaped!? We watched Huā Chéng kidnap him!”

“Is it really kidnapping if he didn’t put up a struggle?” Mù Qíng snaps dismissively. “Get off my ass!”

“You bast-!”

“Enough!” you shout. “Stop it! Just stop it! I’ve had enough!”

The two looked at you with bewilderment, and in return you gave them a vicious stare, eyes stinging slightly as your fists trembled at your sides. “Both of you are so fucking selfish, you know that? First you fight in front of His Highness and bring up your issues you either have with yourselves or each other, wrecking his palace in your brawl, and you disrespect his feelings, as well as mine, when we both asked you to stop! You’re both so wrapped up in yourselves and each other that I’m sick of it!”

“We-!”

“I-!”

“Shut up! I’m done! Done hearing both of you! Get over yourselves! If you want to actually look for him, then do it! Don’t ask me to meditate your petty arguments anymore!”

It’s quiet for a moment before you start hearing other voices.

“I’ve never heard General Qiáng Yǒngmíng get so angry before…”

“Someone finally told those two to shut up..”

“Poor General Qiáng Yǒngmíng. Dealing with those two for this long and finally snapping.”

You feel mild embarrassment as you realize you broadcasted your rant in the communication array, but maybe some humiliation is what these two need, but you doubt it’ll do much. With a huff, you make your exit and ignore Fēng Xìn’s pleas, heading to your palace to hide away.

“Ā-(Y/n), thank you,” you hear Xiè Lián murmur, sounding very faint now.

“Anything for you, Ā-Lián,” you reply, falling into your bed, just as your palace doors open.

[cvtyvvitch]

✨☁️💧💤✨Pick-A-Card: Who’s Dreaming About You?✨☁️💧💤✨

💐 Pick an image (1, 2, 3, or 4) for a message about who’s been seeing you in dreams, and maybe visiting you in the astral realm. 💐

✨Focus your intention and remain open — if none of the images light up for you, there may not be a message for you in this reading! Alternatively, more than one image might connect with you. As always, trust your intuition and take what resonates, leaving the rest.

Onto the readings!

#1: 🫧 Bubbles 🫧

The person dreaming of you might be a sister or close girl/feminine in your life. I get the image of a girl with tears in her eyes, with the feeling that they wish they could talk to you/are upset about something that has happened between you. There’s an energy of youth and feeling sorry for their action(s), and wishing to make things right but not knowing how. Literally bursting bubbles, tears spilling down cheeks.

If this resonates with you, there’s no specific path for you to take with this person — what you do with this information is up to you. That being said, the advice I’m feeling is for you to deeply consider the situation and if there can be a way forward for you, maybe with a level-headed conversation about boundaries and how to work together. I do get the feeling that the person dreaming of you is trying their best, and if they apologize they really do mean it, even if they still make the same mistakes repeatedly. There’s a sense of emotional dysregulation here or immaturity on their side, which feels hard because they struggle against it. Definitely a specific message for maybe only a few people, but I hope that at least gives some insight!

Keywords: sister, red-faced, tears/snot, roses, skinned knees, tantrum, car/car keys, drinking

PS Feel free to let me know if it resonates with you and if you have any feedback!

#2: 🌿🌞 Sunbeam + Water + Branch 🌞🌿

This is a very dreamy energy (lol), and feels very nostalgic, very different from the first group message. Maybe a school friend or someone from uni. I get the image of them looking down a bit absently, tracing their fingers over an open hardback book with a red cover. This is someone you may have not seen for a little while, or perhaps won’t see for the summer (if you’re in Northern hemisphere). I get the image of stolen glances and them looking at you while you’re with a group of people/friends, and then wishing they could tell you how they feel. It’s possible they’ve been a bit unconscious in their feelings for you in the past, but I feel they’re aware of them now. Curious, maybe pining a bit. I get the image of a 90s boy haircut, like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic. Wants to say something but feels like there’s some kind of emotional distance to cross. Unlikely they will say anything about how they feel at this time, or even the next time you see each other if you’re away for a bit. Feeling it out for sure.

Keywords: summer, Coca Cola, red, red nail polish, sea swimming, shy, magazines, bicycles

PS Feel free to let me know if it resonates with you and if you have any feedback!

#3: 🌊 Waves 🌊

Lot more angst in this group. Someone feeling very angry with themselves over how things were left between you if you’re not talking, or how they’ve been unable to communicate well if you are in contact. This has a stronger emotional/spiritual connection than like #2, and feels more like a partner/former partner. There’s a volatility here and the image of someone frustratedly punching into their hand. The anger feels directed at themselves, and there’s the awareness of their own emotional blockage(s). For some of you, they may be trying to come up with ways to approach you or talk about how they feel/what’s going on, but it feels like they’re coming at it from a pretty rigid headspace. Trying to “fix” things and pushing against harder emotions. They don’t feel necessarily toxic or cruel, but maybe create a lot of their own problems through trying to “tough it out” or use their head to mend things instead of allowing themselves to soften and feel things through. I don’t get the feeling either way that you are in contact or not, but in either case they are trying to muscle through their frustration right now which feels hard. I don’t feel any advice for you, beyond that it’s good to remind yourself you can’t do the work for someone. Sometimes you have to let someone struggle through the hard bits on their own time and terms.

Keywords: rock, wrestle(r), tea tree, masculine, hands, thick eyebrows, clenched jaw

PS Feel free to let me know if it resonates with you and if you have any feedback!

#4 🌱🌾Sunny Meadow 🌾🌱

This energy feels very peaceful, and I get that this is either a past life connection you haven’t met yet or you have, but have not been in contact for a long, long time (potentially many years). You could also have met this person recently or briefly, but don’t know them very well yet. There’s a patient energy to it, earthy and contant. Like the way a tree experiences life and seasons, this love for you feels eternal. It’s a semi-conscious tether to you, like regardless of what this person is doing in their day-to-day life, you are on the back burner of their mind. It’s a constant, soul-deep love. I’d go so far to say it’s so deeply rooted that it connects to the cosmic river. So eternal, so ethereal while also completely in Gaia/Earth energy. Hard to put into words but if you resonate with this, you’ll know the feeling I talk about. Like so chilled out and in bliss, completely straddling human time and the eternal present.

Keywords: green, earthy, moss, stone face, wooden idol, old gods, river of stars. eternity.

PS Feel free to let me know if it resonates with you and if you have any feedback!

[vaguely-concerned]

do you ever think about how, when we get lucanis' ossuary mind note on what he was thinking during the fireplace scene at the end of his recruitment mission... what's implied to be his instinctive internal reaction as he's saying "you'd have to kill me" out loud sure isn't 'and I don't want to die'. it's '(and spite would die)'. do you think spite's gremlin-y candle-hungering give-me-FIRE! >:D presence has maybe saved that guy's life even more times and in more ways than are immediately obvious at a glance. do you ever. cry.

it's also very. him that the thing that would stay his hand on killing himself partially might be that he just isn't willing to visit the same cruelty or harm on spite as zara, even when accepting his passenger spirit as collateral damage would at least offer a chance to put an end to his own pain, which at that point he seems unable to see any other way of truly escaping or find real relief from than to die. there's so much resentment and fear and other understandable fraught emotions in spite and lucanis' relationship early on, but it's just as clear that deep down lucanis conceptualizes spite as fundamentally innocent in what's happened here -- perhaps, indeed, more innocent than he manages to conceptualize himself until someone else can help him get in there and start to untangle it with him. he's protective of spite in some subtle ways right from the start, taking pains to point out several times on the jog through the ossuary that the spirits here were just as much victims in what was done to them as anyone else. when spite acts out during the fireplace scene... how much of lucanis brushing it off the way he does is about the '*actively bleeding from the eyes* don't worry about me' avoidant side of it all, and how much is him trying to shelter spite from the eyes of people he does not know well enough yet to predict how they’ll react in response — towards himself or spite. (additional idea to really bring on the heartache: do you think he has maybe intervened in pretty much the same way between illario and caterina over the years and that’s how he does it so smoothly and automatically; it’s basically psychological muscle memory. Haha. ow.) 

Between that and the pretty consistent language he uses that frames spite as child-like, even when he means that in frustration/enfant terrible flavoured terms lol, you get the sense that regardless of how much Lucanis is aware of this on the surface, there is a deep instinctive protectiveness in him for spite. I think that even comes across in the scene where lucanis tells you he’ll continue to pursue a way to separate him and spite on the minrathous route. So I was kind of picking up on/working with that already subconsciously, but when I found that note it hit me like a sledgehammer that clearly in some part at least, the reason lucanis is still here is that he knows now that spite would die with him and doesn’t find that price acceptable. Spite thinks that lucanis mentally locking himself in his (torture :() room and refusing to speak to him is an act of rejection or trickery, but to my eyes taken with everything else we know about how lucanis’ brain tends to work… as much as it’s an expression of avoidance and fear and overwhelm and trying to get away from the voice pushing him towards action when the mere prospect of action fills you with despair to even contemplate (“There’s nowhere to go”), I think it’s also a mark of lucanis’ affection and protectiveness of spite. The guards along the way make it very clear that more so than to keep the outside world from coming in, this place is for protecting people from what might break out. 

And that’s why I think this is also such a good case study to look at lucanis' internal freeze logic and why it has been so adaptive for him up until now when faced with completely impossible emotional situations to which there are no good answers or causes of actions available, even though it's inherently and unavoidably one of those 'what's worse, the medicine or the disease' solutions a brain cooks up. lucanis by the point of inner demons is facing this conundrum: 1) I can't live like this, it hurts too much. I've been in pain so long I’ve got screams where my blood should be and it just keeps getting louder, and nothing really touches or helps that. 2) I can't die to escape this, because that would also kill spite (and also I've got a job to do I guess *working 9-5 slowed with reverb and with underwater sound distortion effects is playing in the background*). those are of course not actually his only options, but in the state he's in they are the only options he can conceive of. (that's not infrequently how it works, when the suffering is that intense and unrelenting. Nothing gives you tunnel sight quite like ‘I just need this to stop’ agony that has gone on long enough to add sheer soul exhaustion to the mix)

so what happens in the end? his freeze brain -- honed, I'm sure, through many long years of attachment trauma and abuse and loss for exactly this kind of 'uh-oh. Incoming FUBAR situation alert let’s go' -- kicks into action and makes him do nothing except what's externally required of him, so he can stay just functional and momentarily distracted by a plethora of avoidance behaviours enough to get through his daily life, if like not particularly happily so... and otherwise, as it were, locking himself in his room deep inside where nothing can touch him, where nothing gets in and nothing gets out, no harm allowed to either escape from within nor allowed to pierce through and get inside. numbness isn't actually a cure for that kind of suffering, but it's the closest thing you're likely to get with any immediacy and if you’re desperate enough by god you take those. It’s how he survived his upbringing, and it’s how he survived the ossuary — as he tells Davrin straight out, the trick to just shut down every part of his soul he can to get through intolerable pain, loss or helplessness. I don’t think that mechanism came to him in the ossuary the first time, I think that blueprint was deeply embedded in his neurons and went ‘ah. My time again. Not to worry I’m a bit of an expert at this I’ll get us through this yet (though you may not thank me for it by the end of it all)’. 

In that state he's unable to himself reach out and meaningfully ask for help (and also like... why would his inner world have any framework for that as even being on the table? this has never been an option before in his life, not in any safe or consistent way; he's fucked up the way he is because the same things/people that should have been and partially, comparatively, were the sources of help and relief and safety growing up are also the sources of pain and abuse, that eternal irreconcilable ambivalence, the double edged sword of unpredictable insecure attachment), but it also keeps him from doing anything uh drastic the other way too, on acting impulsively in ways that can’t be taken back. (that seems to be more illario’s role/dubious privilege in the family lol.) at many points in his life and especially growing up, freezing and going numb around the pain is as close to having control of anything as there was any hope of. 'harm will be inflicted on me unpredictably, but fuck you I don't have to truly feel it as long as I shut all this other stuff down as well, that's what I can control' nervous system logic. (it'll get you every time.) for what it’s worth I’m not so sure his nervous system judged that one incorrectly, I think that is the kind of rebellion you would have to cling to while being raised by someone like caterina, because look at illario if you want to know how much she respects and rewards anything more overt or active. (I mean, if you don’t succeed, at least. swing at Grandma Dellamorte you’d better not miss or you’ll meet that cane swinging at you the other way and she will not miss)

I say all this because I think it's as easy to demonize the freeze response as it is to demonize anger, to conceptualize it only as an obstructive force that, as bellara puts it, is one of the purest forms of a heart not seeming to want to let you be happy, or a mindless byproduct of trauma. But in my experience, the brain doesn’t generally come up with ‘stupid’ defense mechanisms. Even in the most maladaptive of coping mechanisms, there is at the core of it some part of you that once meant to save your life, no matter what trouble it is wreaking for you today. when you look at the setup of Lucanis’ soul, as it were, you can see the dual and in some ways genuinely noble and even tender qualities this response has in him, however misguided: it does imprison, but it also protects, and it means to protect; for all the pain along the way it has sheltered all the parts of his soul that are most precious and breakable, the most vulnerable parts that want to live and so so importantly love completely and freely. Lucanis thinks he’s protecting not even primarily himself but everyone he loves by staying where he is. (“It would be better for me to stay here than to risk losing you”) A child’s logic, to be sure, but logic of a kind and clearly one that caterina has encouraged in him because that’s a conception of love it’s been very useful for her for him to have. Freeze looks like utter hopelessness on the surface, but in some ways I think it’s the utmost triumph of hope — a spare and unrelenting winter that exists because it thinks one day spring might still come, and the things too precious and fragile to thrive in your life as it is now might bloom then. 

He is an adult now, and Caterina no longer controls his entire world, physically and emotionally. There’s finally room for other things, other people, himself, in his life, without everything having to defer to the gravitational force of what Caterina wants from him at the end of the day. And while I think her jumpscaring him with the First Talon position is partly her attempt to wrangle him back into the status quo of control she once had, I’m not sure it’s going to work quite the way she might hope — at least in the Treviso saved route, there are just too many fresh spring shoots in his life at that point that could grow into something new, it’s too late to trample all the saplings growing up through the cracks in time (and indeed some of them might also fight back). (The outlook on the Minrathous saved route is um. Perhaps less convincingly immediately hopeful to me and the prospect of actually getting around to healing further down the road, but I refuse to give up on him that’s my little guy and he’s above all incredibly smart and stubborn and not a quitter and all the rest of this still remains true beneath it all, just like. Give him a moment here.) His hopes and dreams have diversified while she had her back turned lmao he suddenly keeps them with so many more people than just her and Iillario now. She doesn’t hold the monopoly of meaning and connection in his life the way she used to. And whether out of love (you know. Hope is every man’s prerogative I suppose) at seeing him really happy for perhaps the first time or sheer pragmatism, I think she’s going to have to accept that and adapt her ways of doing things with him accordingly, or else have him drift even further away from her.

Spite is the urgent impatient voice that starts to break through to go ‘that moment is now it HAS to be now. We need to shake off the shackles and illusions and face what’s actually here so we can learn to properly live now, or this winter will starve us to death as surely as anything Zara could do to us’. And he is right! As crucial as this soul-starvation landscape has been in survival, it has clearly reached the end of its sustainability, you can’t survive permanently on frost alone. I just also want to recognize the credit Lucanis (and his fucked up but valiant nervous system <3 pour one out for a real one) also deserves for stubbornly holding on in any way he had to until Spite’s true escape project is even an option for either of them. Especially since Lucanis seems to harbour a lot of self-loathing and frustration over his own propensity for freeze — “You know him. You can open the door, but he won’t walk through it”  (still one of the saddest most painful things I’ve ever heard. In case you were wondering. He knows. He knows what he’s like, and he despairs of it, he thinks it means it’s his own fault he still feels like this. Augh.) The real point at the end of the day is not that spite saved lucanis or vice versa, but that as traumatic as it was to get there and against all cultural expectations, it is ultimately their enmeshed condition, their togetherness, that saved them both. (which, again, when you consider the cultural narrative of possession and spirits most andrastian nations are working with…what a radical conclusion to come away with haha. Not unprecedented at all, if you look at Wynne and her spirit, but on a deeper and more psychological plane than ever and even more impactful for it, to me.)

[lazycats-stuff]

Can you do a teen reader (younger than Damian by 1 or 2 years) x batfam, where he is spider man? (I mean kinda like miles morales, he has electricity powers but his webs are organic too and doesn’t need a web shooters.) he is Bruce’s biological child and his mother died, yk his canon event and what not. So he has to move to Gotham and isn’t happy about. Just distant and all. One night He sneaked out and bought a train ticket and went to New York, and was only spider man and just slept in somewhere. So the batfamily tracked him to New York, and while looking for him, they bump into him as spider man. They have to team up to find a villian but reafer gets hurt in the end and his mask fell off and they see it’s reader? They bring him and just have a talk when he wakes up and they come to conclusion for him to join the family in their fighting in Gotham?

Oh, that sounds good. Yes... Also, 2.7k words and so sorry for taking so long to write this... Hope you enjoy. I changed it a little bit, so my apologies, but I got into my writing spirit lol.

Summary: (Y/N) is Spiderman. The fam doesn't know that.

Warnings: (Y/N)'s mom passes away, funeral, sad (Y/N), he loves his city, angst, running away, fighting with Green Goblin.

(Y/N) had a great life in New York. He was very happy in his city. He lived with his mom and everything was fine. Okay, he did get bitten by a radioactive spider and got cool powers with it. Did it cause some troubles? Oh yeah. Electricity was a bit problematic to control, but he managed.

Did he get grounded because of it? His mom sure thought so. His dad visited with the rest of his brothers every month. (Y/N) understood why he couldn't come more. Being a CEO and all that stuff, (Y/N) really understood. He didn't love Bruce any less. Bruce was involved in his life, which was nice.

He loved his brothers and father, more than anything in this world. Alfred was the best though. Whenever he came, he would bring his food and (Y/N) and his mom would enjoy it too, often asking for recipes. Or they would exchange recipes.

All of those were very fun times. And his time as Spiderman. He really loved it. He loved patrolling and helping the people and maybe get a hot dog from the stands that worked through the night. He loved it all. It was nice that his webs were natural and they, like mentioned before, they also came with electricity.

His enemies hated him, but (Y/N) loved being Spiderman. He loved what he represented in New York and he wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He is a New Yorker through and through.

But life decided to be a bitch and strike that luck and happiness.

(Y/N)'s mom passed away. She was hit by a drunk driver. The worst thing is, the driver survived. When Bruce got the news, he got into the car and drove to New York. (Y/N) was told just before Bruce came and (Y/N) felt his soul shatter.

He broke down in Bruce's arms, crying and screaming. It took him a while to calm down, but he couldn't stay alone. Bruce knew that and he knew that going back to Gotham was not an option now. At all. Bruce called Alfred and explained everything and told him that he would stay to arrange the funeral.

Alfred understood and the brother called (Y/N), wishing that they could be there. (Y/N) thanked them for it and then sat up all night, unable to sleep. Bruce tried to comfort him in the best way possible, but it was difficult. Bruce's former fling, (Y/N)'s mom, was the most important person to (Y/N). Without a doubt.

Bruce knew that he would have to bury her in New York, otherwise his son would have raised hell. Without a doubt. After funeral, (Y/N) would have to move to Gotham. Which is another problem on its own. Bruce didn't know that (Y/N) was Spiderman and (Y/N) didn't know that Bruce was Batman.

Match made in hell, so to say.

The funeral was held a few days after the incident and (Y/N) thought that New York cried with him. The sky was dark and the rain was falling. (Y/N) was torn. There were way to many people who were saying sorry and while he appreciated the care and worry, he just wanted to say goodbye on his own.

His brothers have stood it with him. (Y/N) didn't even have the courage to be next to the grave, while they lowered it, but Bruce held him hand through it, keeping him close to him during the entire process.

At the end, he found some strength and came closer, allowing the rain to soak him. It felt appropriate. When she was lowered, (Y/N) threw a rose in there and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath as they started putting dirt over her coffin and (Y/N) never felt so mad. Why did this happen to him? To him out of all people?!

Bruce recognized that look in (Y/N)'s eyes. He knew that rage, sadness and frustration in his eyes. It was going to be difficult to let go and have a new life in Gotham. But (Y/N) had to try. He had to put some effort.

" (Y/N), we have to go. " Bruce said gently as he shielded his son from the rain with an umbrella. (Y/N) kept looking as the coffin got buried under the dirt. He swallowed before nodding and following Bruce to the car.

" Why do I have to go to Gotham? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce sighed as he started driving.

" We have been over this. I have a company there and your brothers are there. I know you don't want to leave, I know that, but you have no choice. " Bruce explained as he drove and (Y/N) turned away from him, biting down on his tongue so that he wouldn't lash out against Bruce.

" I know you are not happy, but you will be happy in Gotham. "

" Sure. In a city ran by a clown and a bat. Sounds like heaven. " (Y/N) said sarcastically.

" It's actually a nice city once you live in it long enough. "

(Y/N) huffed, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to lash out at his father, he really didn't. His dad was doing something he needed and Bruce wasn't at fault.

It was the driver's fault.

But he was pissed and he just wanted to be alone. Bruce saw it and didn't say anything, driving back to Gotham. It was the most awkward drive Bruce has ever done in his life. The hour was quiet and once they parked in the yard of the manor, (Y/N) took a bag with his personal stuff, his Spiderman suit included, and made a beeline for his room.

He ran past everybody and they all looked at him with sad looks.

" Do you think he will be better soon? " Dick asked, glancing at Bruce.

" I don't know Dick. He is sensitive and he will need some time to process it. I don't think I can even introduce him to our line of work. He found justice, they got the driver. " Bruce said as he rubbed his chin and the boys had to agree to a certain agree.

" He just needs some time. The first few days are the toughest. He will get better as times passes. " Alfred said as he took one of the boxes out.

Those few days have passed and (Y/N) didn't really feel good. He didn't like the fact he is starting a new school year here, without his friends and a sense of familiarity. He would have to start a new, without... He cried a lot during the time and he just wore black. Alfred had to make sure he ate and Bruce was there to comfort him and make sure he is okay.

Another thing that was painful, alongside his mother's death was the fact that he couldn't be Spiderman. He couldn't go out, he couldn't save his fellow New Yorkers or chat with them. He saw the news talking about his absence and he wanted nothing more than to go back to New York.

Nothing more.

But... There is a problem called big brothers plus a dad.

They were always around, watching him. Always popping in his room to make sure he is okay and not hungry, knowing that eating wasn't easy. Everyone popped in to make sure he is okay. (Y/N) was sure they thought he would hurt himself somehow, but he wasn't doing that.

He would often sit down in his room, when he knew that his family was on patrol, he would take his suit out. He would watch the spider symbol, wishing he could be back in New York. Gotham was nothing compared to New York. New York was much better, still is better than this city. New York is alive, vibrant, full of colors.

And then you have Gotham.

But (Y/N) has had enough after 2 weeks. With a little bit sneaking around, he managed to buy a ticket, his suit underneath the normal clothes he was wearing. While his family was on patrol, he sneaked out and made his way to the station to leave. He was happy, but it was bitter sweet. It would remind him of the things he loved and yet... It would remind him of his mother.

He had actually had some money left for a few flowers to lay on her grave... (Y/N) put his head on the window, watching the scenery change. Left his phone at home so that they couldn't track him, so he spent his time looking out the window and stretching.

After a few hours, (Y/N) has arrived. He smiled as he saw his city. He took a deep breath in and walked around, just remembering the time in his city.

" My apologies New York. " (Y/N) mumbled as he started walking to the cemetery. It would be a long walk, but he had time. He really did. Once he came, the flower shop was open and he has paid with cash, making it difficult to track him. After getting a beautiful bouquet he walked to his mom's grave. He put them down and smiled...

Bittersweet beyond belief.

He kept knelt down on one knee, smiling at the gravestone. He smiled and wiped some of his tears away, not wanting to cry.

" Hey mom. I'm back. Dad wanted me to move, but I think I will stay here. " (Y/N) said as he got up and started walking to his apartment. He missed it, he really did. He could only hope that it's unlocked, but his neighbor had an extra key. He knew it.

And she loved him.

While (Y/N) was happy, the family wasn't really paying attention whether or not (Y/N) was in his room. They were thinking that he has slept. They couldn't have been more wrong about it. (Y/N) already had a whole night ahead of him as an advantage.

Alfred went to check and a few minutes later and he called out for Bruce in a panic. Everyone dropped the cutlery and ran upstairs to see if their butler was safe. Jason and Tim nearly tumbled over one another more than once. Damian jumped in first, ready to fight with the non existent intruder.

They were all shocked to see that there was no intruder. Another problem? There was no (Y/N). Jason checked the bathroom.

" Not in here. " He declared, closing the door.

Bruce wondered what the hell happened. Oh no. Where is he?

" Did anyone see him? " Bruce asked his sons, leaning on the wall.

" No... I thought he was in here. " Tim said as he looked out the window. " Where is he even? " Tim wondered. Bruce pondered for a moment.

" Lets go to the cave and check the cameras. " Bruce said as he pushed himself off of the wall. Everyone followed and soon, they were looking through the cameras.

They all paled when they saw that he went to the city. Bruce pulled all of the cameras he could and thanked God for facial recognition. He pulled it all to find (Y/N).

" Why did he escape? " Dick wondered out aloud. Was it the fact that they were checking on him too much? Was he smothered? Did they smother him?

" Shit. " Jason said next to Bruce as the two watched the screen. Everyone turned their heads to look at the screen. A train station. Bruce connected it.

" He went to New York. " Bruce said as he tracked (Y/N)'s phone.

" What the hell? " Tim wondered out loud.

Everyone frowned when the location turned out to be the manor. Everyone was now worried.

" He has to be in New York. He has to be. " Damian declared and everyone had to agree with it. They knew that (Y/N) coming here wasn't his choice and that he wanted to stay back in New York. Bruce couldn't blame (Y/N) for any of it, nobody could blame (Y/N) for trying to run to New York.

" He has an entire night as an advantage. " Damian said and everyone has agreed with him. That is one hell of an advantage.

" I'm not sure whether or not to be proud. " Bruce said, trying not to smile.

" A mixture of both. He passed the security. " Jason mumbled and Bruce chuckled.

" Yeah, I have to be a mixture of both. Lets do some more investigating and then lets go to New York at night. " Bruce said and everyone nodded.

(Y/N) has had fun during the day, but it seems that Green Goblin wasn't happy with the fact that he was gone out of their city. The fight has been going on for a while and (Y/N) was slowly getting exhausted. Ever so slowly.

(Y/N) knew that he couldn't lose his cool now. That's something that Green Goblin wanted him to do this entire fight. Green Goblin was taunting him and by God, (Y/N) was ready to kill. His wrists were hurting like never before.

He was ready to strike once more when he saw a familiar face. His dad and his brothers. Oh God. Were they all looking for him. They landed near him and (Y/N) swore that his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He really thought so.

" Hey Spidey, you need help? " Dick, well, Nightwing asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders. " Could use some backup. " (Y/N) said, voice breathy.

" Arch nemesis? " Damian, well, Robin asked.

" Yup. "

" Sounds tough. " Dick said and (Y/N) got ready to strike once more. He saw an opening and took it.

(Y/N) was struck and he flew back onto the rooftop and something fell of as he landed. He couldn't pinpoint it, but every part of him screamed that something was wrong. He froze when he saw his father, covering them both with his big cape.

" (Y/N), why didn't you tell us? Is this why you didn't want to leave? " Bruce asked, glancing at his son, trying to see if he was injured.

" I... I didn't know how to... " (Y/N) admitted shyly, looking away from his dad.

" I'm not blaming you. But we have to talk about this later. We can't just leave it like this. Put on your mask and lets finish this. " Bruce said with a firm voice and (Y/N) nodded as he did so and with the help from Bruce, got up.

" Lets get the bastard. " (Y/N) said with so much determination and Bruce smiled proudly. He really is his son with that much determination.

The fight was tiring beyond belief, but the Batfamily was determined and persistent. And Green Goblin wasn't expecting the back up that (Y/N) has gotten out of nowhere. Soon, Green Goblin was taken into custody. Now it was all good. All good.

If you remember that (Y/N)'s family was still there, waiting to talk to him. He didn't really want to talk, he just wanted to avoid it. He didn't want to. By God, he wanted to go to sleep. But he knew that talk would happen eventually.

" Now, " Bruce started as he glanced at everyone. " I'm not mad you, but... You could have told us. We told you. " (Y/N) tried to say something, but Bruce stopped him. " Now, what happened happened. However, you can use your talents back in Gotham. "

(Y/N) shifted on his feet, nervous about it.

" No need to worry (Y/N). " Jason started, hands on his hips. " NYPD is more capable than GCPD. "

Everyone laughed at it. To some extent it's true, but (Y/N) wasn't convinced.

" You don't have to lose your Spider symbol. You can keep being Spiderman. You can be a spider and the rest can be birds. " Bruce said as he put his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.

" It's difficult to leave my city behind. " (Y/N) admitted and Bruce nodded in sympathy. The brothers hugged their brother, hugging him tightly.

They all were saying something, but (Y/N) couldn't understand. But he knew that they were all saying something positive.

" Now, lets go home and get you situated. " Bruce said and (Y/N) just looked at the sun.

" It weird to see you guys in this time of the day. " (Y/N) mumbled as he was led to the Batmobile. Everyone laughed at that. It was true. He really didn't want to leave New York city, but he knew that he could help them in Gotham.

He knew it would work out in the end.

[minniethemoocherda]

A Spoonful of Sugar

A/N: My first Sonic fic! I feel like I've unlocked an Internet Achievement lol. Anyway I am loving all the fics of Stone adopting Shadow after the events of Sonic 3 so I had to write my own! Hope you guys enjoy it! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

"… with whipped cream, marshmallows, sprinkles, two shots of vanilla, three of cinnamon and a chocolate chip cookie melted on top please!"

Stone fought back a grimace at the blue hedgehog's latte order, if one could even still call it a latte after everything Sonic wanted to ruin it with. Stone wasn't entirely convinced this wasn't some sort of twisted revenge for the admittedly many times he had tried to kill him.

However they had been able to come to a truce in the past months, with them agreeing not to try to kill each other after Stone re-opened The Mean Bean. This left Stone with no choice but to settle on the hypothesis that the hedgehog was just insane.

After handing over his pocket money, Sonic sped over to his brothers' table by the window and this time Stone was unable to hold back his grimace as the speedster once again burned streaks into his oak floor.

Biting back a curse, Stone shoved the change into the register before handing over a copy of the order to his barista.

Shadow took the piece of paper with a determined nod. He then went straight to work on the machine, each dial and instrument moved with perfect precision as he focused his entire energy in to his new mission.

Stone didn't even try to hold back his smile. Shadow had come a long way since Stone had first found him unconscious in that creator, bruised and broken to almost beyond recognition. And so had Stone. Honestly after everything that had happened, he'd been ready to end it all. But saving Shadow had given him a purpose. And he'd been able to provide one for the hedgehog in return.

They still had a long way to go. Shadow was still simultaneously convinced that Stone was going to kick him out of the spare room or keep him locked up there for another fifty years. But every night they would watch a new episode of La Ultima Passion together and Shadow had finally agreed to see the private tutor Stone had hired to get his schooling up to speed alongside his employment at The Mean Bean. Plus Stone couldn't deny that the hedgehog looked adorable in the custom child sized apron Stone had ordered for him. Even if he did have a habit of eating the speciality coffee beans straight out of the tin.

As Stone took advantage of the break in customers to clean the counter, he caught Sonic trying to catch Shadow's eye but the barista must've seen the other hedgehog's attempts in the reflection of the metal coffee machine and had decided purposefully ignoring him.

Eventually Sonic gave up, going back to talking a mile a minute to his brothers.

Nobody in the coffee shop batted an eye at the sight if three alien children. The people of Green Hills were long used to the sight. Hell, Stone had once been their sworn enemy and even he didn't find it odd for the trio to visit The Mean Bean during their own tutoring breaks, (in fact it had been Mrs Wachoski who had put Stone in touch with company behind the boys' own tutors).

Stone saw Sonic snort as Knuckles swore revenge on his frappe for giving him a brain freeze, the blue hedgehog nearly choking on the muffin he must've nabbed with his super speed without Stone noticing.

The sun beamed through the wooden frame of the window and for a moment, Sonic was bathed in a golden glow like he had the day he had absorbed the power of the Master Emerald to stop the Doc-

Stone tried to stop that train of thought. But it was too late. Suddenly all Stone could think about was the Doctor and that day and how from the wreckage he had healed the Doctor back to health and that even now he couldn't stop the hope and guilt that the Doctor was still alive out there waiting for help even though it had been months and all the evidence proved that the Doctor was really dead this time and-

"FUCK!"

Stone startled at the sudden curse.

He spun around to see Shadow snap his hand back from where it had been held under the steamer. Strangely, there was no cup in Shadow's hand, the bio-degradable Styrofoam still on the counter. For a second, Stone wondered what could have caused Shadow to forget it, but that question was quickly pushed to the back of his mind as he focused on the more pressing matter.

It was mid-morning so most people in Green Hills were already at work with the few children there at the school in the next town over. Besides the three aliens the only other costumers were Crazy Carl and a group of retired old ladies playing poker in the corner. Stone placed a small sign on the register that they'd be back soon before guiding Shadow through to the kitchen.

"Can I see you hand?" In their short time together, Stone had learnt early on to present any medical concerns as a question instead of a demand.

Shadow took of his glove and held it out without complaint, still conditioned to listen to doctors lest he face the punishments.

There was a burn on the edge of his palm, the red and black fur slightly singed and the usually tan skin underneath was staring to blister pink.

"We're going to need to hold it under the cold tap for a while to cool your skin down. Then I can wipe it with some antiseptic to make sure it doesn't get infected." Stone said, making sure to explain the reason behind the treatment.

Shadow nodded, his nose and eyes scrunched as he braced for the impact of the cold water of the sink.

It was nothing compared to the injuries that Stone had helped to heal him from as well as whatever hell he'd been through in those labs.

Still he flinched as the cold continued pouring onto his hand.

"We can take a break if you want?" Stone offered.

Shadow's eyes widened, as though ever after all this time, he still couldn't believe that Stone was giving him a choice. Before his eyes soon narrowed into familiar slits.

"No." Shadow stated, that steel determination present in his voice that Stone knew meant it would be impossible to change his mind. As much as Stone didn't want Shadow to force himself through more pain, he was proud that the hedgehog was standing up for his own medical desires.

After a few more minutes, Stone turned the water off, then as gentle as he could, stroked an antiseptic wipe over the burn. Thankfully it wasn't very deep. It would probably hurt for the next hour but should fully heal within a few days.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?" Stone asked.

"Not anymore. But before my cheeks were warm, my pulse quickened and I felt as though some of your Earthling butterfly creatures had infested my stomach."

Oh, Stone thought, coming to a quick diagnosis. He was all too familiar with that set of symptoms, having suffered from them the entire time he had known the Doctor.

He missed them.

Now whenever he thought of the late Ivo Robotnik, he felt an empty sense of sickness.

Still for Shadow's sake, he swallowed his feelings and put on a smile.

"I think I know how to fix that. Spending time with another anthropomorphic hedgehog should alleviate them. And since you're going to take the rest of the day off to heal your hand, why don't you go do that now?"

Shadow wasn't stupid. Judging by the glare he was currently aiming at the former agent, he knew that Stone was hiding something. However he must've come to the conclusion that he wasn't straight up lying, which he wasn't, as eventually Shadow nodded.

"Great! I'll make Sonic's order then you can take it to him as an excuse to talk to him."

"Fine." Shadow hmphed, following Stone back behind the counter.

Stone remade the abomination of a latte before handing it over to Shadow.

Stone watched as he marched straight over to the window, handing the cup of to the fellow hedgehog as though he were issuing an arrest warrant. Sonic didn't seem to mind Shadow's stony disposition, already babbling on as he thanked Shadow for how amazing the latte was even though he hadn't even taken a sip yet and Shadow hadn't even been the one to make it himself. It would go unnoticed by most, but Stone was easily apply to recognise how the corner of Shadow's lips twitched into a smirk at Sonic's antics.

The scene reminded Stone of when he'd first met the Doctor. Wasting his engineering degree working in a brand named cafe when the most striking man he'd ever seen walked in to order the most striking order he'd ever made to then hire Stone on the spot after he'd taken one sip.

For the first time since everything had gone to shit, instead of feeling sick, the thought of The Doctor made Stone smile.

One that grew even larger as he over heard Shadow call Sonic an idiot for attempting to down the entirety of his drink in one gulp.

And over dinner, Shadow later told him that he was full of shit as spending more time with Sonic only made his symptoms worse.

[sleepynoons]

blade x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: unprotected sex, emotional sex, handjob, half-assed pussy job (idet it counts), riding in reverse cowgirl, descriptions of injuries

notes: angst, slight comfort. wrote this on my period, and i couldn't stand being the only one in intense pain, so i took this as an excuse to do more research on mara and how blade suffers from it. also stellaron hunter!reader lol

YOU SEE the bandages before you see him. after two weeks of being unable to see each other, you’ve finally been given the green light by kafka to visit blade. eyes wide, you can’t hide your surprise as you examine the fresh cracks and wounds scoring blade’s body, obvious even when he’s veiled by the shadows cast by his door. the dressings almost seem useless, really – a bandage over a bullet wound, almost quite literally. the effects of mara on short-lived species are truly terrifying, the destructive aftermath laid out right in front of you as you grimace when you see a wound slowly open before sealing itself with a muted golden light. he steps back to let you into his room, and you usher him to his bed. 

as you tie up some of the loose ends of the bandages, you murmur, “kafka said it was worse than normal.” blade only stares ahead at something you can’t see.

it’s always been this way. when blade doesn’t want to tell you something, he opts for silence. the two of you are so close yet so far, able to relish in the intimacy of each other’s bodies but never willing to exchange words that reveal what’s underneath. he will even go as far as to openly show you his scars and injuries, but he will never share with you the tales and stories of battles that caused them – constellations on his figure that will remain forever unnamed and disowned. 

kafka had given you a brief, watered-down explanation of blade’s condition when you first joined the stellaron hunters. blade’s pain is predominantly in the psyche, and the mara forces him into an uncontrollable state that he has to be watched over and subdued by kafka. you know it’s all for naught as you wipe his arms and torso with a warm, wet towel. you can only provide brief moments of relief as you pat cool compresses over the cuts you just cleaned.

there’s something you’ve noticed about blade’s injuries. because you’ve never seen blade when he’s mara-struck, you can only presume that he receives his injuries directly or as a result of his transformation. regardless, the cuts are irregular. they look more like deep gashes from sharp fingernails and a sword. 

like clockwork, you finish patching blade up, and after putting all of the medical supplies away, find your place on his lap. blade finally looks at you, gaze piercing through you, as you sit down. his hands come to rest on the backs of your thighs, and without a word, leans forward to kiss you on the eyes. his gestures are delicate, as gentle as he can muster, and you know he’s trying to placate your worry. you return your affections by patting his chest, a signal for him to lie down.

he listens, eyes still watching you closely, hawk-like attention on your every move. he’s waiting, curious as to what you plan on doing today.

you begin. you first bend over, littering small kisses across his collarbones and chest. if blade’s in any pain, he makes no indication of it. you make your way up, leaving more kisses around his neck and the shell of his right ear, before hovering over his face. when this arrangement started, you remember being incredibly nervous, afraid he would judge and reject your advances. you’re more practiced now, of course, and without hesitation, lick at his lips. blade seems to ease up a little and responds by tilting his head in an effort to deepen the kiss and presses your body closer to his. it stays like this for a few minutes. the two of you have your eyes closed and are simply enjoying each other’s warmth.

you only pull away because you need to breathe. regardless, you’re growing eager, and you’re sure he is, too. you get up to remove your jacket and sleep shorts, but when blade reaches to undo his pants, you stop him.

“let me,” you whisper. “i’ll handle all of it.” now only in a loose t-shirt and panties, you sit back down on blade, except you’re faced away from him. you make quick work of his pants and peel back his briefs, revealing his half-hard cock that is stirring at the sudden touch of the cool air.

you always like to take your time with blade after going without him for so long. you spit into your hand and coat it generously. blade hisses when he feels your hand make contact with his cock. up and down, your rub your palm from his tip to his balls and back again. his cock gets harder and hotter under your touch, and the veins that climb up his cock become more pronounced. what you would do to take him in your mouth then and there, but you have to resist – this isn’t about you. when blade’s cock stands fully at attention, you wrap your hand around it and quicken your pace. you flick your fist sharply and tease his slit with your thumb between intervals.

behind you, blade pants and groans. you’re experienced in pleasuring the man, and you know when something is too much or too little for him. right now, you know you’re doing just right. as he gets louder, his cock leaks more pre-cum, and the desperate sight sends a throb straight to your core. finally, with a few more tugs of your hand, blade cums, cursing as he ejaculates into your hands with some of his cum splattering onto your forearm. you help him in coming down from his high, and you glance behind you.

with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other gripping onto the blanket, he’s breathing deep, ragged breaths. he already looks spent.

you ask, “should we stop here?”

harsher than he intended, blade commands, “keep going.” his voice is rough with exhaustion, but it’s still deep and husky, and his demand only edges you further along. you smile at the praise and nod in understanding, not that he’d see.

you slide your panties to the side. you’re already so wet, slick sticking and spreading along your inner thighs and pussy. blade’s already hard again, and you can only admire his stamina. as a brief intermission, you pick up his cock and begin to rub his tip along your folds. his cock is so hot, comforting against your own heat, and you sigh whenever his tip catches onto your clit. 

but it’s not enough. with every slip of cock, your yearning accelerates until it becomes overwhelming. when you have no more patience, with shaky legs, you sink down onto him. when the head of his cock pops past the entrance of your hole, you moan in relief and satisfaction. not even halfway in, and blade is already making you see stars.

blade is also having a very difficult time. he’s already delirious from all of the pain he had to endure for the past few weeks, yet he fell prey to his desires and is now suffering at the sensation of your soft, tight walls swallowing and trapping him in. it really is too much. in this position, he can admire the way the fat of your ass ripples whenever you move and your back arches beautifully, accentuating the curves of your hips and waist. at the very least, he’s grateful that he can’t see your face, or else he’d lose it at the sight of your aroused expressions. he can just imagine your lips parting, tongue lolling out, eyes crossing.

you feel so full when he’s fully in you that you have to sit still for a second. then, you slowly begin to bounce, shallow lifts of your hip that only come up an inch or so before you take him in completely again. it’s the perfect amount of pressure inside you. in fact, everything about blade seems to fit you well, and you have to ignore the thought of never fully having him.

if you had to describe blade, a few words come into mind: powerful, spiteful, lost. and you can feel these traits of his bleed into the present moment. he’s so tired and angry, frustrated that he has to live on in the universe, but because he has no choice, he will live on with steadfast and stubborn courage. you can only moan and drool with every heavy kiss of his cock against that gummy spot inside you. at some point, his hands have found their way to your waist, and his hands are gripping onto you so tightly that they’re bound to leave bruises. you can feel – practically taste – his emotions, and all you can do is just take it. it’s because you can’t do anything else that you’re content with just taking it. 

you’re sobbing, crying out from pleasure and distress. with one last push, you get up so that only blade’s tip is inside before dropping back down in a manner so rushed and sharp that you’re both cumming from it. he holds onto you and you onto his hands as you both climax.

you may never be able to help him with the mara or be fully his, but you know that, in this moment, no one in any galaxy or universe can make him experience this pleasure and release the way you can. and for now, you let yourself take pride and satisfaction with that. for now, that’s more than enough.