#used to just black out and blink and there my reply was

[fumiscripts]

✦ DEDICATED TO YOU

✦ one shot ,, rin itoshi x gn!reader

content:: you're a famous idol. and you're dating a professional player. of course you'll be making headlines when your relationship was made public.

for @yui2aku ,, fluff ,, 822 words

additional:: swearing, they're both whipped for eachother, might be ooc

Itoshi Rin is a rising star in the football industry. And you were in the peak of your idol career.

Obviously, the media would freak if they find out that the two of you were dating.

So you kept the relationship a secret, doing your best to not give out any hints. From making sure not to mention each other too much in interviews, to carefully crafting social media posts to ensure that fans won't be able to tell that you were going to a place together. Both of you and your management carefully concealed it from the public view.

But, of course, not everything goes to plan.

PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE ITOSHI RIN AND SOLO IDOL [L/N] [NAME] SEEN HOLDING HANDS AT HANEDA AIRPORT.

This was the headline of one of the many, many articles that flooded all across the internet. Your heart stopped, then slammed back at full force. You stood up straighter, brows furrowing together. The first time you opened your phone for the day, and you find posts about this everywhere.

Oh fuck. You fucked up, didn't you?

“Shit. What the hell,” you curse under your breath, reading more into the article.

Meanwhile, Rin looks up from your lap, opening an eye, disturbed from resting on your thighs when you suddenly stopped running your hands through his black locks. Your eyes flicked towards his,and he gave you a look, as if to ask what suddenly bothered you to halt playing with his hair.

You blink at him, before sheepishly turning your phone around, showing him what's been blowing up all over the media. “So… maybe we weren't discreet enough with the clothes I wore to greet you.”

His face instantly dropped, turning into something more serious as his teal eyes skimmed through the overview of the post. Rin sighed, grumbling something under his breath before burying his face onto your stomach. “...I told you to just stay at home and wait for me,” he murmured after a while, draping his arms around your waist.

“C’mon… you know I had to greet you right away. It was after a big overseas game I couldn't come to— it was the same time I had a concert,” you scoffed, reasoning with him. “The least I could do was pick you up at the airport.”

Rin didn't look up. He was touched by your little gesture to try and make up for not attending a vital match, so he didn't use that argument further. “Tch. Should've at least covered up more of your features,” he lightheartedly remarked. Though he really liked the uniqueness you had with the way you dressed up, so he can't hate on that. “Well, what do we do now?” he asked, moving the topic along from the problem to finding a solution.

You stared down your phone, anxiousness coming back to loom over you. “I should contact my manager,” you remark, watching as he finally lets go of you and sits up properly. “We could schedule a meeting with our PR teams?”

He nodded. “Right. So go do that,” he replied, though he already had a vague idea what they might propose for you two to do. It was a guess.

That guess was right.

The day after those rumors about the two of you having a secret blew up, you hard launched your relationship to the public.

They decided that coming out clean about this would be the most logical way to proceed— way better than the media speculating that the two of you were just a fling and start tarnishing both of you’s reputation. A proper relationship sounded way better than a one-night stand to the public.

After confirming on each official account, the masses began to be a little more welcoming to it. Hell, the ship tag between you and Rin seemed to blow up with positive posts, even. So that fix was successful.

Once the news calmed down through weeks, everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with being an idol with a soccer player for a boyfriend. Majority of fans seemed to love the two of you, often making fan media dedicated to your relationship. And in all honesty, it was cute. Plus, you had more material to tease Rin with.

Now, you couldn't help it. You personally asked for your next album to be something special, convincing management it's for the sake of the publication of your relationship. Though, it was dedication for someone special.

An album dedicated to him.

Rin knew those songs were dedicated to him. If those vibrant eyes of yours while you performed on stage— looking straight at him who sat by the vip seats— said anything, it was all about how much you loved him.

Oh, and with the way he looked at you with pure adoration, it was obvious he loved you, too.

Rin was utterly, hopelessly dedicated to you.

(a/n):: Grrrhsjua not my proudest work since I barely write nonchalant asf characters

taglist:: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku

@lakeside-paradise

© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[xuchiya]

embarassingly cute || park seonghwa || one-shot

|genre: college! seonghwa. college! reader. just pure fluff and embarrassment. |mentions: nothing really.

summary: A simple habit of holding your best friend’s arm to navigate the chaos of the mall takes an unexpected turn. Fifteen minutes pass before you realize your mistake—but by then, it’s not just your arm that’s caught in an unexpected twist of fate.

word count: 1.1k

Malls always felt like mazes to me, with their endless rows of shops, glaring lights, and the constant ebb and flow of crowds. Ever since I was little, I had this habit of wrapping my arm around my friend Sam's whenever we went shopping. It wasn’t just a quirky gesture; it was my anchor, my way of feeling grounded and ensuring I wouldn’t get lost in the chaos.

“You always hold onto me like a little duckling,” Sam would tease, though she never pulled away. She knew how much it meant to me. I hum, looking at her, " 'Cuz you my mama duck." She playfully stuck her tongue out and I pouted, "You love me." 

"Whatever you say, duckling." Today was no different. Sam, along with our other friends, and I had decided to spend a lazy afternoon strolling through the mall. They were busy window shopping whilst I found myself reaching for her arm almost instinctively as we meandered through the crowd, my eyes darting from one store display to the next.

“Look at those shoes!” I gasped, tugging her toward a storefront before I even heard a reply. Sam usually humored me with an indulgent smile or a sarcastic comment about my taste, yet maybe something inside her just sighs and lets me have my ways.

As the minutes stretched on, I felt more comfortable,and my usual habit just casually flowed in, playing her fingers or even intertwining them. The comforting weight of her arm against mine was enough to let my mind wander freely. I kept pointing out pretty signs, dazzling bags, and even an outrageously overpriced pen shaped like a flamingo.

“You’re so quiet today, Sam,” I remarked absently, turning my head briefly to glance at her before being distracted by another sparkling window display. “Are you tired?”

Behind me, I could hear muffled laughter, but I didn’t think much of it. My other friends were always giggling about something or other, not that it worried me or anything but it just made me feel curious as to what made them smile and giggle this much.

“Seriously, what’s so funny?” I huffed, finally glancing back, only to find them walking a few steps behind, their faces red from suppressed laughter.

“Nothing, nothing!” one of them wheezed, her shoulders shaking. I frowned but didn’t press further, figuring it was some inside joke I wasn’t privy to. It wouldn’t be the first time. Instead, I turned back to Sam, still holding her arm, intertwining our hands together as we continued our walk.

“Come on mama duck, let’s head this way!” I chirped, dragging her toward a shop with a dazzling display of keychains in the window. “Look at that! Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Sam didn’t respond, but I barely noticed. My excitement always took over in moments like these. I tugged her inside the shop, oblivious to the amused glances from my friends trailing behind us.

The shop was small and cozy, with racks of colorful trinkets lining the walls. My gaze flitted from one adorable keychain to the next, my grip still firm on her arm. “Which one do you think suits me better—the bunny or the cat?” I asked, holding up two options.

When there was no reply, I glanced up, expecting to see Sam’s teasing smirk or her exaggerated eye roll. Instead, I was met with a shy, startled expression framed by soft black hair and wide brown eyes that definitely did not belong to Sam.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

“Oh no,” I breathed, my heart dropping into my stomach.

It wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t Sam at all.

The realization hit me like a freight train, my mind scrambling to replay the last… fifteen minutes? Oh my gosh, I had been dragging a complete stranger around for fifteen minutes!

“I—I thought—” Words failed me as mortification settled in. I dropped his arm as if it had burned me, stepping back with wide eyes. “You’re not Sam,” I finally managed to squeak out, my voice barely above a whisper.

The stranger—Park Seonghwa, my brain supplied belatedly, recognizing his striking features from our university—gave me a soft, apologetic smile. His cheeks were tinged with a faint pink that mirrored the heat rising in mine. “I tried to tell you,” he murmured, his voice gentle and almost apologetic. “But you seemed really… happy.”

I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, waving my hands as if that could somehow erase the last fifteen minutes. “I wasn’t paying attention, and I just—I thought you were my friend, and—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted, his voice calm and soothing. “Really. You seemed so excited, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

From behind us, my friends burst into peals of laughter, clearly enjoying my humiliation. “She called him ‘mama duck!’” one of them howled, clutching her stomach.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I’m never going to live this down,” I muttered under my breath.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Seonghwa said softly, his tone almost… fond. I peeked at him through between my fingers, surprised to see him smiling—shy but genuine, like he didn’t mind being dragged around the mall by a stranger.

Before I could muster up another apology, the cashier called for me to pay. I quickly handed over the money for the bunny keychain—because of course I’d forgotten all about the cat one—and turned back to Seonghwa, clutching the tiny trinket like a lifeline.

“Here,” I said, thrusting it toward him, placing it on his palm. “Take this. As an apology...”

His eyes widened slightly as he accepted the keychain, holding it as if it were something fragile and precious. “Thank you,” he said softly, his fingers brushing mine for the briefest moment.

The warmth in his gaze caught me off guard, and for a second, the embarrassment melted away, replaced by something softer.

Behind us, my friends were already making plans to roast me for the rest of the day, but before they could drag me away, Seonghwa hesitated.

“Wait,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

I turned back to him, my heart racing for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.

“Before you go,” he began, his cheeks turning pink again, “Would it… would it be okay if we met again? On purpose this time?”

I stared at him, my brain struggling to process his words.

“You want to hang out?” I asked dumbly, my voice cracking slightly. He nodded, his shy smile widening just enough to make my heart flutter. “If that’s okay with you.”

For a moment, I forgot all about the embarrassment, the laughter, and the teasing. All I could think about was the earnestness in his eyes and the unexpected sweetness of the moment.

“Yeah,” I said finally, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I think I’d like that.”

As I rejoined my friends, their teasing ringing in my ears, I couldn’t help but glance back. Seonghwa was still standing there, the bunny keychain in his hand and a smile on his face that I was pretty sure matched mine.

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbor (matthew sturniolo)

pt 11

When we finally made it home, Matt parked the car, and everyone piled out sluggishly. Chris and Nick bumbled their way inside, clearly still drunk, with Charlie trailing behind them, her shoes in her hand. Matt and I hung back for a moment, letting the others disappear into the house.

As soon as the door closed, Matt wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “You ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and full of warmth.

I nodded, leaning into him. “More than ready.”

We headed inside, quietly making our way upstairs to my room. I kicked off my boots, tossing my bag onto the chair in the corner. Matt pulled off his shirt, throwing it toward the hamper before collapsing onto the bed. I followed, crawling in beside him, and he pulled me close, his arms wrapping protectively around me.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my forehead.

“Goodnight, Matt,” I whispered back, already drifting off.

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the blinds, gently waking me. I blinked a few times, finding myself completely entangled with Matt. My head rested on his chest, one of his arms draped over my waist, while our legs were a twisted mess beneath the covers.

I tilted my head up to see Matt already awake, scrolling through TikTok on his phone. When he noticed me looking, he gave me a lazy smile. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning,” I mumbled, my voice still heavy with sleep. I snuggled closer, resting my chin on his chest. “What are you watching?”

He tilted his phone so I could see. “Just dumb TikToks. Want to join?”

We spent a few minutes scrolling together, laughing at the ridiculous videos. Then, when a fortnite edit came through his fyp, an idea popped into my head. “Hey, Matt,” I said, propping myself up on my elbow.

“What’s up?” he asked, glancing at me.

“Do you think you could help me get a PC? I kind of want to play Fortnite again,” I admitted, biting my lip nervously.

Matt grinned, setting his phone down. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I miss playing.”

“Well, alright,” he said, stretching. “Get ready. We’re going shopping.”

Excitement bubbled up inside me as I scrambled out of bed. “You mean it?”

“Of course,” he replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. “I’ll make sure you’re set up with the best.”

I smiled, practically running toward the bathroom to get ready. 

I quickly slipped into a tight black cropped sports top and a pair of high-waisted biker shorts, tying my hair back into a sleek ponytail. Sliding on my hoka’s, I grabbed my phone and bag, practically skipping down the stairs. When I stepped outside, Matt was already in the car, leaning against the door with a grin on his face.

He looked effortlessly handsome in black sweatpants paired with a bear graphic  pink tee that somehow made him even cuter. As I walked toward him, he pushed off the car and met me halfway, pulling me in for a quick kiss. “You look cute,” he murmured against my lips.

“You’re one to talk,” I teased, smiling as I climbed into the car.

Matt hopped into the driver’s seat, adjusting his sunglasses as he started the engine. “Alright, PC shopping. Let’s get you back to gaming glory.”

The drive was filled with light banter and music, Matt occasionally glancing over to check on me. My excitement was contagious, and I could tell he was enjoying how thrilled I was about the idea of building a setup. When we pulled into the parking lot of the PC store, he parked quickly and turned to me with a smirk.

“Ready to spend all my money?” he teased.

I laughed, opening the car door. “No, I have my own money Matthew.”

“Hey, so I actually dont give a fuck.” He said as he pushed me into the store by my lower back.

We stepped into the brightly lit store, rows of tech and PC parts stretching out before us. “Alright, let’s build you the ultimate Fortnite machine,” he said, and I couldn’t help but beam at him.

We wandered the aisles of the PC store for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was only about thirty minutes. I was like a kid in a candy store, pointing out all the cute setups and asking Matt’s opinion on every piece. Finally, I decided on a pink-and-white PC tower with a tempered glass side panel to show off its RGB lighting. Matt helped me pick out two matching monitors, a light pink mechanical keyboard, and a sleek white mouse to complete the setup.

“You sure you don’t want the whole store while we’re at it? Lets get you a camera for streaming” Matt said as we approached the checkout counter.

“Yes!” I said, grinning ear to ear.

After paying, Matt hauled the bulky boxes out to the car, his biceps flexing as he balanced everything effortlessly. Meanwhile, I was bouncing up and down like I had just won the lottery. “Matt! We need a desk and chair now! This setup has to be perfect!”

“Let’s get this loaded first,” he chuckled, maneuvering the gear into the trunk.

Once he closed the trunk, I couldn’t hold back my excitement any longer. I grabbed his face with both hands and started peppering kisses all over it—his cheeks, nose, and even his forehead. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I squealed between kisses. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around my waist to steady me. “Oh so now I am your boyfriend?”

“Who knows what you are,” I said, pulling back to look at him with a big grin. “This is the best day ever.”

“Let’s make it even better,” he said, smirking. “Next stop—desk and chair shopping.”

“Let’s go!” I cheered, practically skipping to the passenger seat as Matt shook his head, smiling at my excitement.

We pulled into the IKEA parking lot, and I was practically vibrating with excitement as we walked in. “Okay,” I said, grabbing Matt’s hand and tugging him toward the desks section. “I know exactly what I want.”

After wandering through the maze of furniture, I found it: a sleek, white L-shaped desk with built-in drawers on one side. “This is it,” I said, running my hand along the surface. “It’s perfect.”

Matt nodded, pulling out his phone to snap a picture of the tag so we could find it in the warehouse section. “Alright, what else do we need?”

I grinned and dragged him over to the chairs. “A gaming chair, obviously.” After trying out a few, I settled on a white-and-pink chair with a reclining feature and cushioned armrests. “This one matches the PC perfectly!”

Matt chuckled. “You’re really going all out, huh?”

“Absolutely,” I said, already imagining how the setup would look.

Once we loaded the desk and chair into the car, I looked over at Matt. “One more stop.”

He groaned playfully. “Where now?”

“Walmart,” I said, smirking. “I need a headset, a PS5 controller, and… a Fortnite V-Bucks gift card.”

Matt sighed but couldn’t hide his smile. “Fine. But this is the last stop.”

At Walmart, I darted straight to the electronics section, grabbing a white wireless headset, a pink PS5 controller, and a shiny Fortnite V-Bucks gift card. “Done!” I declared, holding up my haul triumphantly.

Matt shook his head, laughing. “You’re lucky im inlove with you, you're breaking my bank.”

“Ill pay fo-” I started but Matt quickly put his hand over my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up” He said putting his card into the machine.

We finally made it back to my house, where we started setting everything up in my room. Matt assembled the desk and chair while I organized the PC, monitors, and accessories. By the time we finished, that part of the room looked like a gamer’s paradise. The pink and white setup glowed softly under the dim lighting, and everything was perfectly arranged.

I spun around in my new chair, grinning up at Matt. “This is amazing. Thank you for helping me.”

He leaned down, brushing a kiss against my forehead. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Matt leaned against the doorway, watching as I made the final adjustments to my new setup. The Fortnite download screen was prominently displayed on one of my monitors, the progress bar slowly crawling forward.

“Well,” he said, pushing off the doorframe, “I think I’m gonna head home while this downloads.”

I spun around in my chair, a pout forming on my lips. “What? You’re leaving me already?”

He chuckled, stepping closer and leaning down to cup my cheek. “We’re gonna stream, remember? You, me, and Chris. Only for a bit. I’ll be back tonight, though. ”

The mention of streaming made my face light up. “Oh my god, that’s going to be so fun. You’re going to regret it when I carry the team.”

Matt smirked, brushing a kiss on my forehead. “We’ll see about that, gamer. Text me when it’s ready, and I’ll join you and we can go over streaming rules.”

I got up jumping into his arms giving him a slow and sensual kiss “Thank you Matthew”

Matt kissed me one more time before putting me down, as he walked toward the door. “Your welcome sweetheart”

As he left, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and appreciation for the man Matt had become.

By the time Fortnite finished downloading, my entire setup was glowing in soft hues of pink and white. The room felt cozy and vibrant, exactly how I’d imagined it. I adjusted my headset, checked the camera angle for the stream, and smiled at my reflection on the monitor. It was finally happening—my first Fortnite stream with Matt and Chris.

At exactly 7 p.m., I texted Matt letting him know I was ready and I joined their discord.

“Ready,” I replied confidently, as Matt clicked the “Start Stream” button.

The chat immediately flooded with messages:

“Matt’s live!!!” “Wait, who’s the girl??” “She’s cute omg” “Not y/n 🙄”

Matt rolled his eyes at some of the negative comments but didn’t say anything. Chris plopped down on his chair finally in frame, already laughing. “Alright, Y/N, you better not hold us back. We’re going for wins tonight.”

“I’ll carry both of you,” I teased, readying up for the first game.

As the game loaded, the three of us bantered, with Matt explaining the stream rules like keeping the chat friendly (a rule that was immediately broken) and not leaking anyone’s location. The chat continued to blow up:

“Chris is hilarious, as always.” “Matt and Y/N are so cute together!” “Why is she playing? We miss the old streams.” “I love this dynamic, stop being haters.”

The first couple of games were a bit chaotic. Chris accidentally blew up our cover by throwing grenades too early, I fell off a cliff trying to build, and Matt had to clutch a victory for us by taking out the last three players on his own.

“You’re welcome,” Matt said smugly as the victory screen popped up.

“Whatever,” I replied, leaning toward my mic. “Chat, he’s only good because I revived him earlier. Don’t let him fool you.”

The chat lit up again:

“She’s hilarious, I love her.” “No way she’s taking credit for Matt’s win 💀.” “Chris is just here for fun.”

By the third hour, the energy was at an all-time high. We had a good rhythm going—Matt was the strategist, Chris was the chaos, and I was surprisingly decent as the sniper. During one game, I knocked two players from a ridiculous distance.

“Okay, sniper,” Chris said, impressed.

Matt laughed. “Guess she really is carrying us now.”

The chat loved it: “She’s cracked, omg.” “Finally someone who can make Matt humble.” “Chris needs to stop throwing grenades lol.”

Of course, not everyone was thrilled. “This feels like a couple's stream now, ew.” “Why is she even here? Chris deserves better teammates.”

Matt finally addressed the negativity after seeing my face scrunch up at one comment. “If you’ve got a problem with her being here, fuck off,” he said bluntly, pointing at the camera. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“Yeah suck it,” I said flipping off the camera as I knocked another player.

By the end of the night, we’d played for four hours, won three games, and spent the rest laughing at Chris’ terrible aim and Matt’s competitive streak. As we wrapped up the stream, the chat was a mix of love and chaos:

“Best stream yet!” “Chris and Y/N’s dynamic is gold.” “Matt’s defending her like his life depends on it, I’m crying.”

As Matt was wrapping up the stream, he leaned into the mic. “Alright, guys, we’re gonna end it soon, but Y/N’s gonna join us for a bit before we go.” He smirked, “Come on, sweetheart. Walk over.”

I quickly turned off my setup, tossed my headset onto the desk, and grabbed an oversized hoodie from my chair. Pulling it on over my outfit, I slipped into my sneakers and ran downstairs. Charlie was sprawled on the couch, watching the stream on her phone.

“NICE STREAM!” she shouted, making me laugh as I bolted out the door.

The cool night air sent a chill down my spine as I jogged across the yard to the triplets’ house. The shadows from the streetlights made everything seem a little eerie, and I picked up my pace. By the time I reached their front door, I was nearly sprinting.

“Ok, it’s actually scary as fuck out,” I announced, slightly out of breath as I walked into Matt’s room.

Matt was sitting at his chair with Chris behind him on the bed, both watching the stream comments roll in. Matt grinned when he saw me, Chris patting the space next to him. “Get in here.”

I stepped into the camera’s view and plopped down next to him. Chris threw an arm over my shoulder. “The real MVP has arrived,” he said, pointing at me.

“Obviously,” I replied, smirking at the camera.

The chat went wild:

“Y/N!!!” “Wait, she lives next to them?” “Not her being scared of the dark lmao.” “Chris looks so proud of her right now.”

We spent the next few minutes reading comments and answering questions. One user asked, “Y/N, what’s it like being with these two?”

“It’s like babysitting,” I replied without hesitation, earning a loud laugh from Chris and a look from Matt.

“Babysitting?” Matt repeated, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. I don't know how you two survived without me for the last four years” I teased, leaning forward.

Another comment read, “Matt, you were so defensive of her earlier. Protecting your girl, huh?”

Matt smirked, resting his arm behind me on the bed. “Look at her, and tell me you wouldn't” he said simply, making me roll my eyes as the chat exploded with hearts and “he's mine.” comments.

Chris decided to take over the mic for a bit, answering a few random questions about his grenade mishaps and future stream plans. Meanwhile, Matt and I shared a quiet laugh about a particularly funny comment: “Chris, stop blowing stuff up!”

After a few more minutes, Matt addressed the chat. “Alright, guys, we’re calling it a night. Thanks for hanging out, and we’ll see you next time.”

Chris leaned into the mic one last time. “Peace out!”

As Matt ended the stream, he turned to me with a grin. “You did good tonight, sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling back. “Now, where’s my victory snack?”

Chris stretched and gave a tired groan "Snacks it is," he announced, dragging himself up.

Matt stood and offered me a hand. “Come on, let’s raid the kitchen.”

We made our way to the kitchen, Chris pulling out a bag of chips while Matt grabbed cookies and a couple of sodas. I found a bowl and dumped some popcorn in, adding a sprinkle of salt. Together, we carried everything back to the living room and piled onto the couch.

Matt picked out a movie—an action flick that Chris had been raving about—and we settled in. Halfway through the second movie, I started scrolling through my phone absentmindedly. Chris had fallen asleep against my shoulder, his soft snores occasionally breaking the quiet. Matt had shifted during the film, and now his head rested in my lap, his even breathing telling me he’d fallen asleep too.

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Matt’s face. The moment felt peaceful, like everything in the world was just as it should be.

When the credits rolled, I nudged Chris gently. “Hey, sleeping beauty. Time for bed.”

He groaned but eventually sat up, stretching and mumbling something about needing his own pillow.

“Matt,” I said softly, running my fingers through his hair. His eyes blinked open, and he looked up at me sleepily.

“Bed?” he murmured, sitting up slowly.

“Yeah, come on,” I said, helping him stand.

Chris shuffled off to his room, muttering a simple “Now i'm wide awake”

Matt made his way to his bed, collapsing onto it without even pulling the covers up. Within seconds, he was fast asleep again.

I laid next to him, feeling strangely restless. I grabbed my phone, scrolling through TikTok and Instagram. The quiet of the house was soothing, but for some reason, sleep wouldn’t come. So I stayed up, enjoying the solitude and the hum of the night.

Unable to shake the restless feeling, I grabbed my phone and padded quietly into Matt’s room. The soft glow from his bedside lamp illuminated his peaceful face as he slept, his chest rising and falling steadily. I smiled faintly, but the moment was interrupted by his phone vibrating on the nightstand.

I ignored it at first, assuming it wasn’t anything important, but when it buzzed again, and again, worry crept in. Nick was at a friend’s house, and a small part of me panicked, wondering if it was an emergency.

Carefully, I reached for Matt’s phone, glancing at the screen. The name "Abbie" flashed repeatedly, with at least ten unread messages. My stomach twisted. I hesitated, but curiosity and concern won out. I entered Matt's password and opened the messages.

The texts from Abbie weren’t what I expected.

"Wow, so you’re just going to ghost me now that you’re with her? Classy." "Matt, I deserve an explanation. You can’t just act like nothing happened between us." "Does she even know what kind of guy you really are? Maybe I should tell her." "You’re such a coward. At least be man enough to admit it."

Each message was angrier than the last, dripping with bitterness and accusations. My heart started racing as I reread them, trying to process what I was seeing. Who was Abbie? What was she talking about?

I glanced over at Matt, still fast asleep, completely unaware of the storm building inside me. My hand gripped his phone tightly as my mind reeled. I needed answers, but waking him up now didn’t feel right. Instead, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the screen, trying to figure out what to do.

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I rushed out of Matt’s room, his phone still clutched tightly in my hand, and made my way down the hallway to Chris's room. The emotional overload was too much, the weight of everything crashing down on me. As soon as I pushed open the door, the sight of Chris sitting up in bed caught my attention, but all I could do was burst into tears.

Chris’s face instantly shifted from confusion to concern. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice soft and steady.

Without saying a word, I flashed Matt's phone in front of him, my tears blurring my vision. I didn’t need to say anything more — Chris’s face dropped as soon as he saw the texts. His eyes softened with sympathy as he quickly opened the blanket, motioning for me to come in.

I didn’t hesitate. I crawled into the bed, burying my face into the crook of his neck, unable to stop the tears that had been building up for so long. Chris wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, offering me the comfort I desperately needed.

“Who is she, Chris?” I choked out, my voice muffled as I held onto him tighter. “Why would he do this? Why didn’t he tell me about her?”

Chris didn’t answer right away. His hand gently rubbed my back as I cried, unsure of what to say, probably trying to figure out how to make it better. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm. “I think you should sleep on it, Y/N. Get some rest. You’re not gonna find all the answers right now.”

I looked up at him, sniffling as my eyes searched his. “But, I need to know, Chris. I can’t just pretend it’s okay.” My voice wavered as I said the words, but it felt like the weight of everything was too much to carry alone.

Chris sighed deeply, his gaze softening. “I get it, Y/N. But, it’s not my place to tell you what happened with Matt and this girl. He’s the one who needs to explain it. You can talk to him in the morning, okay?”

I nodded, even though my heart felt heavy with doubt and hurt. All I wanted was to understand why things had turned out this way, and why Matt hadn’t been upfront with me. But for now, I was exhausted — emotionally and physically. I buried my face back into Chris’s chest, allowing myself a few moments of peace, hoping sleep would bring some clarity, or at least some calm.

Chris continued to hold me, his warmth offering me the only comfort I could find at that moment. We lay there in silence, me trying to gather my thoughts, him quietly offering me the safety of his presence. And slowly, despite the pain, my tears began to subside.

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it didn’t matter. My mind was racing, still reeling from the emotions of last night. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to drift back to sleep for a few more minutes of peace, but it was then that I heard the voices.

It started with a low murmur, but soon escalated into raised voices. Matt. Chris. They were yelling at each other.

I froze, not knowing what to do. My heart hammered in my chest. I pretended to stay asleep, but my ears were wide open, listening intently to every word.

“I told you, Matt, she found the fucking texts!” Chris’s voice was filled with frustration and anger.

“I don’t need you to tell me that!” Matt snapped back. “I know what happened, okay? She’s pissed, and she’s gonna be pissed at me, but I don’t need you making it worse!”

“You’ve already made it worse, man,” Chris shot back. “You can’t just hide shit from her like that. She deserves to know what’s going on. You’ve fucked up.”

Matt let out an exasperated sigh, followed by the sound of him running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.” His voice was a mix of anger and stress. “I can’t deal with this right now. I just… I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Then don’t say anything at all until you figure it out,” Chris retorted. “But don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing, Matt.”

There was silence for a moment, and then the bed shifted as Matt’s footsteps approached. I felt my body being lifted gently, and before I knew it, I was placed on the soft bed, I knew it was Matt’s.

I heard Matt sigh heavily. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But I need you to stay here for a bit.” He paused. “Chris is right. We need to talk… but not right now. I need to figure out what the fuck to say to you.”

I stayed perfectly still, pretending to be asleep, but inside I was unraveling. What the hell had I just heard? What was Matt hiding? Why didn’t he tell me about Abbie, and why was Chris so angry about it?

The weight of the situation was pressing down on me, and I could feel the sting of betrayal, even though I hadn’t said a word yet.

Matt’s footsteps faded as he left the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. I lay there for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. But no matter how hard I tried to fight it, my emotions were a tidal wave, crashing over me with no sign of stopping.

Matt’s footsteps returned, and the door creaked open softly. My heart skipped a beat, my emotions still in turmoil from everything I had overheard. I stayed still, pretending to sleep, but I could feel the tension in the air.

“Y/N?” Matt’s voice was quieter now, almost regretful. “Can we talk?”

I didn’t respond right away, letting him stew in the silence. Finally, I sat up, rubbing my face with one hand and looking at him. His face was a mixture of guilt and frustration, like he was trying to figure out how to make things right.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands in his lap. “Look… I owe you an explanation.” He took a deep breath, the weight of what he was about to say heavy on his shoulders. “Before you and I really started… well, before this… I was with someone else.”

I blinked, trying to process his words, but he didn’t give me a chance to speak. He continued.

“There was this girl, Abbie. We were in a relationship, and it wasn’t perfect, but I was with her.” His voice cracked slightly, as though admitting this was a weight he hadn’t carried before. “Then, I found out you lived next door, and everything changed.”

I stared at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He ran his hands through his hair again, his frustration evident. “I tried to ignore it, Y/N. I tried to pretend like I didn’t feel something every time I saw you, but I couldn’t. And when we went on that trip together… everything just came to a head. I realized I didn’t want to be with her anymore.” He looked at me with pleading eyes. “I told her it was done. I ended things with her, but I never expected her to act the way she has.”

His gaze fell, and I could see the guilt on his face. “I never meant to hurt you. especially after seeing the TikTok Charlie accidentally posted. She’s been bombarding me with texts ever since.”

I sat there, speechless, processing what he was saying. A mix of emotions flooded over me—betrayal, anger, and confusion. I felt like I had been in the dark about something important, and now, I left just how I did in college.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered, the hurt in my voice evident.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he answered quickly. “I thought I could handle it without dragging you into it. But I realize now… I should’ve been upfront with you from the start. I’m sorry. I’ve been a fucking idiot.”

I was still reeling from the shock of everything he had just confessed. I wanted to be angry, but I didn’t know where to direct it. At Matt? At myself for trusting him after everything he had already put me through?

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, my voice shaking slightly. “I don’t know if I can trust you. Its fucking annoying, you couldve told me you had a fucking girlfriend. You told me you loved me before you ever broke up with her”

Matt’s face fell, and for the first time, I saw real regret in his eyes. “I get it. You don’t have to trust me right now, Y/N. But I swear to you, I want to make this right. I want you, and only you.”

I didn’t answer immediately, too lost in my thoughts. 

I stood up, feeling the weight of everything. “I need time to think, Matt. I really do.”

He nodded, standing up slowly. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready. I swear.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Instead, I turned away, walking out of his room. 

I walked out of Matt’s room, holding back the tears threatening to spill over. The moment I shut his door, I let out a shaky breath, my chest tightening. Without a second thought, I made my way to Chris’s room, my feet moving on autopilot. I needed someone, and Chris had always been my safe space before.

I pushed the door open, and Chris looked up from his phone, concern flashing in his eyes the second he saw me. “Y/N?” he asked, sitting up quickly.

Before I could say anything, the dam broke, and tears streamed down my face. Chris was on his feet in seconds, pulling me into a tight hug. “Hey, hey. What happened?” he murmured, guiding me to sit on the bed.

I wiped at my face, trying to catch my breath, but the words tumbled out in a rush. “I just feel like everything started with a lie, Chris. It hurts. After everything we went through in college, all the toxicity, I wanted this to be different. I thought it was different.”

Chris sighed, sitting down next to me and keeping a comforting hand on my back. “I get it, Y/N. I really do. But can I say something?”

I nodded, sniffling, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’m not sticking up for Matt,” he started carefully. “But I’ve seen him these past few years. He missed you so much, Y/N. For years, he didn’t even look at another girl. I think when you came back, he was just so desperate to get it right this time. He wanted to make it perfect. He didn’t want to mess it up again.”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I stared at him, my mind racing. “Then why didn’t he just tell me? Why did he think lying, or hiding this, was the way to make it perfect?”

Chris shrugged. “Because he’s Matt. He overthinks everything, and when it comes to you, he’s always been a mess. He doesn’t know how to handle the fact that you’re his weak spot.”

I let out a shaky laugh, despite myself. “His weak spot?”

Chris smiled gently. “Yeah, and honestly? You’ve always been his biggest strength, too. Even when things were bad, you brought out the best in him. I think that’s why he panicked. He didn’t want to lose you again.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, letting Chris’s words sink in before I stood up. My legs felt unsteady, but I knew what I needed to do. “Thanks, Chris,” I murmured, giving him a small smile. He nodded, his eyes full of understanding as he watched me walk out of his room.

I hesitated outside Matt’s door, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open.

Matt was lying on his bed, his arm draped over his face, but the redness around his eyes made it clear he’d been crying. His head turned toward me, surprise flashing in his teary eyes before he sat up slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance.

Without a word, I walked over and crawled onto the bed, positioning myself on top of him. His arms instinctively wrapped around me tightly, holding me as if he were afraid I’d vanish. The tension in his body melted slightly, but I could still feel the heaviness of his guilt in the way he held me.

“I get it,” I whispered, my face pressed against his chest. “I’m sorry for not hearing you out earlier.”

Matt’s grip on me tightened. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you everything from the start. I just… I didn’t know how to. I’ll answer any questions you have. Anything. I swear.”

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were earnest, full of both regret and hope. I nodded, and we sat up together, his hands never leaving my waist.

“Okay,” I said softly, looking at him with a determined expression. “Then I have some questions.”

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar-deactivated202 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274 @sturnslutz

[psychoticallykind]

Stapled

"Staple" - Rosekiller Microfics - @rosekillermicrofic - 344 words

Trigger Warning: Blood, not excessive, and sort of...consumption of blood. A bit.

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

Evan walked in, glancing over at Barty for a second. "What's that?"

"It's called a stapler," Barty replied, focused on the strange black thing. "It's a muggle thing. Lily was using one."

"Okay." Evan collapsed onto Barty's bed. "What's it do?"

"It connects things," Barty mumbled, pressing the top part down, closing in part of his sleeve. There was a small clicking sound, and then Barty held his arm up. "See? It uses these little metal things - oh, I wonder..."

Evan nodded, used to Barty's experiments by now. Barty was frighteningly intelligent, but most of his interests were - well, at least sort of harmless.

There was another click, and then, "Oh."

Evan sat back up, recognizing the tone. "What did you do?"

"I - well," Barty said slowly. "I put a staple in my hand."

"You put -" Evan blinked. "What?"

"It's fine, I'm good," Barty assured him.

Evan crossed the room, holding out his hand in a silent request. Barty rolled his eyes as he set his hand down.

The small metal bar looked like it was stuck. Evan twisted Barty's wrist, watching the light reflect. "Does it hurt?"

"Kinda. Not bad." Barty shrugged. "I think I can just pull it out."

"Yeah?" Evan glanced up, meeting his eyes. He raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Barty grinned. "Yeah." His eyes flickered to the metal bar, and then back to Evan. "Go for it, Rosie."

Evan rolled his eyes before using his other hand to quickly pull the thing out of Barty's hand, dropping it onto the desk. Then he raised Barty's hand to his lips as two small drops of blood welled up, gently pressing his lips to the wound.

Barty's pupils were blown wide. "Oh."

"Oh?" Evan asked, eyes bright with mischief. He kept them locked on Barty's as his lips parted, and he gently sucked at the wound, watching Barty's breath hitch before he pulled away. "Got a thing for vampires, B?"

Barty blinked. "What?"

Evan laughed, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Barty's lips, staining them red. "You're cute."

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x uhh…self insert-ish but i don’t wanna use my name

a/n: i crashed out last night so i started to write. - there is very little specific characteristics other then scars as those add to the story

Friendship Bracelets

The classroom hummed with quiet chatter as the teacher droned on about the symbolism in some book you hadn’t bothered to read. Your attention, however, was fixed on the boy beside you—Damian Wayne. He sat upright, his sharp green eyes focused on the blackboard, though his pen twirled idly between his fingers. Everything about him screamed precision, from his perfect posture to his neatly tied tie, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you leaned closer to him.

The classroom was bathed in the soft hum of students pretending to pay attention, but you were too focused on the boy sitting next to you to care about the lesson. Damian Wayne sat stiffly, his sharp green eyes fixed on the board, taking meticulous notes as if his life depended on it. His dark hair was perfectly in place, and he carried an air of detachment that most people found intimidating.

Not you, though.

You nudged his arm with your elbow. “Hey, Damian,” you whispered, keeping your voice low to avoid the teacher’s glare.

“What is it?” he replied curtly, barely sparing you a glance.

“You’re my best friend,” you said with a small smile, leaning toward him slightly.

That made him pause. His pen stopped moving mid-sentence, and he turned his head to look at you, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. “What?”

“You’re my best friend,” you repeated, your tone earnest. “And I was thinking, you know, since we’re best friends, I could make you a friendship bracelet. What do you think? Maybe green and black to match your vibe?”

For a split second, his expression softened, and you swore you saw a flicker of something like fondness in his eyes. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by a smirk that made your chest tighten.

“A friendship bracelet?” he repeated, the faintest hint of mockery in his voice. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean—”

“That’s…ridiculous,” he cut in, his tone sharpening. “What use would I have for a childish trinket like that? And why would I need a bracelet to prove our so-called friendship?”

You blinked, his words hitting harder than they should have. “I just thought it’d be nice,” you said softly, your fingers twisting together. “It’s not about proving anything, Damian. It’s just…something people do to show they care.”

He scoffed lightly, his gaze returning to his notebook. “If you have time to waste on pointless crafts, perhaps you should focus on improving your other hobbies instead. I’ve seen your drawings—they’re average at best. Maybe channel your energy into something more productive.”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I wasn’t trying to waste time,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t respond, his attention already back on the board as if the conversation was over.

“Never mind,” you said quietly, pulling back and staring down at your scarred hands. The classroom felt colder now, the warmth of your earlier excitement draining away.

You turned your attention to your notebook, pretending to take notes even though your vision blurred slightly. You told yourself it didn’t matter—that it was just Damian being Damian, and you should’ve expected this. But somehow, it still hurt.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw him glance at you, his expression unreadable. But you didn’t look up. You just kept your head down, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all.

The rest of the day was painfully awkward. Damian hadn’t said another word after shutting you down about the bracelet, and you didn’t try to talk to him again. Usually, your conversations filled the gaps between dull lessons, but now, silence stretched between you like a chasm. You wanted to bridge it, but your pride kept you rooted in place.

When the final bell rang, you stuffed your books into your bag and stood up quickly, avoiding his gaze as you slung the strap over your shoulder. Just as you turned to leave, Damian caught up to you in the hallway, his strides as purposeful as always.

“Y/N,” he called, his voice as sharp as ever.

You stopped, not because you wanted to, but because you didn’t want to seem like you were avoiding him. “What?” you asked, turning to face him.

“Are we meeting at the library after school?” he asked, his tone unusually formal. You usually studied together after class, a routine you’d fallen into months ago.

You hesitated, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I can’t today,” you said. “I have people coming over.”

His brows furrowed. “People?”

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly feeling defensive under his scrutinizing gaze. “Guests. My dad’s friends, I think.”

Damian’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And you didn’t think to mention this before?”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you replied, frowning. “Why does it matter?”

“Because it’s unlike you to cancel plans without warning,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Who are these ‘guests’? And why are they more important than our study session?”

“They’re not more important!” you snapped, your temper flaring. “I just can’t hang out today, okay? Why are you making this such a big deal?”

“Because you’re being evasive,” he shot back. “And I don’t appreciate being treated as an afterthought.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening with frustration. “You’re acting ridiculous. It’s one day, Damian. I’m not abandoning you.”

“You’re dismissing me entirely,” he retorted, his voice low but cutting.

“Are you jealous or something?” you asked, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Damian’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer. That silence said enough.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You turned on your heel and walked away before he could respond, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you got home, the house was quiet except for the sound of the television murmuring in the living room. Your dad was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he flipped through channels. He looked up when you came in, his face lighting up with a warm smile.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, muting the TV. “How was school?”

“Fine,” you said quickly, kicking off your shoes and heading for the stairs.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he called, sitting up. “That’s your ‘not fine’ voice. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you said, pausing on the first step.

He raised an eyebrow, his arms folding over his chest. “You sure? You’ve got that look on your face. The ‘I want to punch someone but I’m too polite’ look.”

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself but shook your head. “It’s nothing, Dad. Just school stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk about it. Otherwise, I’ll just keep watching this documentary about penguins. No pressure.”

“Thanks,” you said, managing a small smile. You turned and headed upstairs, letting the door to your room click shut behind you.

You dropped your bag onto the floor and sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your scarred hands as Damian’s words replayed in your mind. The sting of his dismissal earlier, the awkwardness, the stupid argument—it all swirled together, leaving you feeling raw and unsteady.

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “It’s fine,” you murmured to yourself. “It’s fine.”

But it didn’t feel fine. It felt like the kind of heavy you couldn’t shake, even after a night’s sleep.

The house was silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on your bedside table. You tossed and turned in bed, unable to shake the events of the day from your mind. Damian’s words still stung, though the anger had faded, leaving only an ache behind. You glanced at your phone on the nightstand, wondering if he even cared enough to try and fix things.

At 2 a.m., the screen lit up, the vibration startling you. You reached for it, blinking at the sudden brightness. A string of messages from Damian stared back at you, each one arriving within seconds of the last.

Damian Wayne:

I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier.

Damian Wayne:

It was unnecessarily harsh, and I regret it.

Damian Wayne:

You’re not childish or frivolous, Y/N.

Damian Wayne:

I don’t know why I said those things.

Damian Wayne:

The truth is, I didn’t hate the idea of the bracelet.

Damian Wayne:

Green, black, and red are my favorite colors.

Damian Wayne:

If you’re still willing to make one… I’d like that.

You stared at the screen, your heart pounding in your chest. It wasn’t like Damian to admit fault, let alone apologize. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Part of you wanted to ignore him, make him stew in his guilt for a little while longer. But another part—a softer part—knew you couldn’t stay mad forever.

You:

I thought you said they were hideous.

The response came almost immediately.

Damian Wayne:

I was wrong.

Damian Wayne:

They’re not hideous.

Damian Wayne:

I was being… dismissive.

Damian Wayne:

You don’t deserve that.

You bit your lip, torn between wanting to hold onto your frustration and letting it go. With a sigh, you typed back.

You:

Why’d you say it, then?

There was a long pause before he responded, and you could almost picture him hesitating, debating whether to be honest.

Damian Wayne:

I didn’t know how to handle it.

Damian Wayne:

You called me your best friend.

Damian Wayne:

That… meant something to me. More than I wanted to admit.

Damian Wayne:

I wasn’t used to it.

Your chest tightened, the ache softening into something else entirely. Damian was terrible at expressing himself, but when he tried, it was genuine.

You:

You really want a bracelet?

Damian Wayne:

Yeah.

Damian Wayne:

Only if you’re still willing to make one.

You stared at his last message, the weight of the day starting to lift as a small smile tugged at your lips. Damian’s words were never light; he chose them with care, even when he didn’t get them quite right. The fact that he’d taken the time to send you this many messages at two in the morning said more than he probably realized.

You:

Fine. But you’re wearing it every day.

Another pause, shorter this time.

Damian Wayne:

Agreed.

Damian Wayne:

Are we… okay?

You hesitated for a moment, but only a moment.

You:

Yeah, we’re okay.

His reply came almost instantly.

Damian Wayne:

Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.

The conversation ended there, but you stayed staring at the screen for a long time, replaying the messages in your head. Damian wasn’t one to open up easily, and you couldn’t help but feel a little warmer knowing he’d pushed past his usual walls to make things right.

Finally, you set the phone down and lay back in bed, your heart a little lighter as you drifted off to sleep.

The next day after school, you sat on the floor of your room with your bracelet-making supplies spread out around you. Damian’s words echoed in your mind as you sorted through the strings, picking out the perfect shades of green, black, and red.

Your dad peeked into the room, his eyebrows raising slightly at the mess. “What’s going on here? Did the art store explode?”

You laughed softly, glancing up at him. “I’m making something for a friend.”

His expression softened. “That the same friend who had you all upset yesterday?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, knotting a few strings together.

He stepped into the room, leaning against the doorframe. “You want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. “Not really. We’re good now.”

Your dad studied you for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But you know I’m here, right? Anytime.”

“I know, Dad,” you said, giving him a small smile.

He smiled back, ruffling your hair gently before heading back downstairs. You returned to your work, fingers moving methodically as the bracelet began to take shape.

When it was finished, you held it up to the light, examining the way the colors wove together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was heartfelt, and you knew Damian would appreciate it—even if he pretended not to.

Tomorrow, you’d give it to him. And maybe, just maybe, you’d finally get to see him smile for real.

The next morning, you stood near the school gates, nervously fidgeting with the bracelet in your hands. It felt strange, standing out here and waiting instead of heading straight inside like you usually did, but you wanted to see Damian before anyone else.

You spotted him approaching, his usual confident stride and stoic expression somehow managing to look both intimidating and effortlessly cool. When his eyes landed on you, he slowed, his gaze flicking to the bracelet in your hands before meeting yours.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice calm but carrying a hint of curiosity.

“Hey,” you said, smiling up at him as you held the bracelet out. “This is for you. Like I promised.”

Damian looked down at the bracelet, the deep green, black, and red threads interwoven neatly into a pattern. He took it carefully, as if it were something delicate, and turned it over in his hands.

“This is… impressive,” he said, his voice soft.

You laughed nervously, tucking a strand of your wavy black hair behind your ear. “It’s not perfect, but I tried to make it match your colors. Do you like it?”

He slipped it onto his wrist, adjusting it slightly before holding his arm out to examine it. “I like it,” he said simply, but the slight upturn of his lips was enough to make your heart race.

“You’re smiling!” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, your own grin widening.

Damian glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, but the faint smile didn’t leave his face. “Is that surprising?”

“A little,” you teased. “But I’m glad. It looks good on you.”

Before you could overthink it, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug. His body stiffened in surprise, but you didn’t let go immediately.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

Damian hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly returned the gesture, his arms resting lightly around you. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

When you pulled back, your cheeks were warm, and you realized you were blushing. Before you could say anything, you noticed the whispers starting around you.

“Are they hugging?”

“Y/N and Damian Wayne? No way.”

“They’re so close. I didn’t think he liked anyone!”

You froze, suddenly hyperaware of the stares and murmurs from other students. Your hands dropped to your sides, and you glanced down, your earlier happiness fading into self-consciousness.

Damian, noticing the shift in your demeanor, stepped closer to you, shielding you slightly from the prying eyes. His voice was low, meant only for you. “Ignore them. They don’t matter.”

You looked up at him, your glasses sliding slightly down your nose. “Easier said than done.”

“They’re just jealous,” he said bluntly, his tone confident and unbothered. “Let them whisper. It doesn’t change anything.”

His calm, steady presence eased some of your nerves, and you nodded slowly. “Thanks, Damian.”

He adjusted the bracelet on his wrist, glancing at you again. “I should be thanking you. This is… meaningful to me.”

Your blush deepened, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment. The two of you walked into the school together, side by side, and while the whispers didn’t stop, you found they bothered you a little less with Damian by your side.

Lunch was supposed to be your time to relax, but the tension in the air was impossible to ignore. You sat at your usual spot under the tree in the courtyard, picking at your lunch absentmindedly. Damian wasn’t with you—he’d gotten caught up talking to a teacher—but that didn’t bother you. What did bother you was the group of girls approaching, their loud, purposeful footsteps and saccharine smiles making your stomach churn.

You looked up just as they stopped in front of you, their ringleader—a blonde girl you vaguely recognized from one of your classes—crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hey, Y/N,” she started, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.

“Hi,” you replied flatly, already bracing yourself for whatever this was going to be.

“You know, we’ve all been talking,” she said, gesturing to the other girls behind her, who giggled on cue. “And we think it’s really… cute that you’re hanging around Damian Wayne. But don’t you think you’re, like, a little out of your league?”

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The blonde’s smile widened, turning sharper. “Oh, it’s not. We just thought you’d want to know what everyone’s saying. You know, about how weird you are.”

One of the other girls chimed in, snickering. “Yeah, like, what’s up with your arms? Did you fall into a shredder or something?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Your scars—ones you’d spent years trying to accept—felt like they were burning under their stares.

“Seriously, though,” another girl added, leaning closer to get a better look. “Do you think Damian even knows about those? Or do you cover them up when you’re around him?”

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms. “Shut up,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with barely contained anger.

The blonde smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, relax. We’re just saying he deserves someone who’s, you know… normal. Not some freak with scars and—”

Before she could finish, your fist connected with her jaw, the force sending her stumbling back with a shocked cry. Gasps erupted around you as the courtyard fell silent, all eyes turning to the commotion.

The blonde staggered, holding her jaw with wide eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shrieked.

“Stay away from me,” you spat, your voice shaking.

“You’re crazy!” another girl shouted.

“Y/N!”

Damian’s voice cut through the chaos, and you turned to see him striding toward you, his expression dark and commanding. He stepped between you and the group of girls, his presence alone enough to make them take a step back.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked, his tone icy.

The blonde stammered, still holding her jaw. “She—she punched me!”

“And why would she do that?” Damian asked coolly, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

“She’s psycho!” the girl behind her hissed.

“Or,” Damian said, his voice dangerously low, “you were harassing her, and she defended herself.”

The blonde’s face turned red, but she didn’t reply.

“Listen carefully,” Damian continued, his tone firm and unyielding. “Y/N is my friend—my best friend. If you think for a second that I’d tolerate anyone disrespecting her, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“But, Damian—” the blonde started, her voice trembling.

He cut her off with a sharp glare. “I will never like you. Ever. So do yourself a favor and leave her alone.”

The girls exchanged glances, their bravado crumbling under his words. Finally, the blonde huffed, turning on her heel. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

They scurried away, whispering amongst themselves, but you didn’t care. Your heart was still racing, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Damian turned to you, his expression softening. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, though your voice wavered when you spoke. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with people like them,” he said firmly, his gaze lingering on your arms for a moment before meeting your eyes. “They’re cowards who prey on others to hide their own insecurities.”

You bit your lip, the weight of his words settling over you. “Thanks, Damian.”

He gave you a rare, small smile. “Always.”

As you both sat back under the tree, the whispers around the courtyard slowly faded, and for the first time in a long while, you felt safe.

After school, you and Damian walked to your house together, the tension of the lunchtime incident having long since dissipated. The air between you felt lighter now, with Damian keeping his usual calm demeanor, though he stuck close to you as if to silently remind you that he had your back.

When you reached your front door, you unlocked it and called out, “Dad, I’m home!”

Your dad appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His face lit up when he saw Damian. “Damian! Good to see you, kid. How’s school treating you?”

Damian gave a polite nod, his posture impeccable as always. “Good afternoon, sir. School has been… manageable.”

Your dad chuckled. “Manageable, huh? Sounds like a Damian kind of answer. You’re keeping Y/N out of trouble, I hope?”

“Actually,” Damian said with a faint smirk, “it’s more often the other way around.”

“Hey!” you protested, laughing despite yourself.

Your dad laughed too, clearly charmed. “Well, I trust you two. Just don’t burn the house down while I’m gone. I’ve got to run to the store for a bit.”

“Got it, Dad,” you said, waving him off. As he grabbed his keys and left, you motioned for Damian to follow you upstairs.

Once inside your room, you dropped your bag by your desk and flopped onto the bed. Damian, ever formal, took a seat in your desk chair, observing the space as if cataloging every detail.

“You can relax, you know,” you teased.

“I am relaxed,” he replied, though his rigid posture said otherwise.

Rolling your eyes, you sat up and began unbuttoning the top few buttons of your blouse to loosen the collar. The moment you did, Damian’s eyes widened, and a faint blush crept onto his cheeks.

“Y/N,” he blurted out, sitting bolt upright. “I—I’m not ready!”

You froze, staring at him in confusion before realizing what he meant. Your face flushed crimson. “What?! That’s not what I was doing, Damian! That’s weird!”

He blinked, his blush deepening as he fumbled to recover. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it!” you said, burying your face in your hands. But then, despite your embarrassment, a small laugh escaped you.

Damian looked at you, his lips twitching as if he was fighting a smile. “You’re laughing?”

“It’s funny!” you managed, peeking at him through your fingers. “You thought—ugh, never mind!”

A quiet chuckle escaped Damian, and soon you were both laughing, the earlier awkwardness melting away.

As the laughter died down, Damian leaned back in the chair, his usual composure slowly returning. “For the record,” he said, his tone dry but tinged with amusement, “I should have known better. You’re not that impulsive.”

“Gee, thanks,” you replied, rolling your eyes but still smiling. “Glad to know you think so highly of me.”

Damian smirked faintly, his posture relaxing as he watched you. “You know what I mean. I overreacted.”

“You think?” you teased, crossing your arms and leaning back against your headboard. “You looked like I’d just proposed something indecent.”

He huffed, his cheeks still faintly pink. “It was an honest mistake.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Honest, huh? What, did you think I was just going to—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Damian interrupted, his voice sharp but his expression more flustered than anything else.

You laughed again, the sound filling the room, and Damian’s shoulders seemed to loosen at the sound. It was rare for him to fully relax, but moments like this made you feel like you were peeling back layers of the stoic facade he always carried.

“Alright, fine,” you said, sitting up properly and smoothing out your blouse. “Truce. I won’t tease you anymore.”

“Good,” Damian said, though his tone was softer now.

The room grew quieter, the initial awkwardness now replaced with an easy comfort. Damian’s eyes drifted to the friendship bracelet still wrapped around his wrist, and he absently adjusted it.

“By the way,” he said, breaking the silence, “your dad seems… nice.”

You smiled at that. “He likes you, you know.”

Damian tilted his head slightly. “Does he?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “He’s always telling me how ‘polite’ you are, and how it’s nice I have someone like you looking out for me.”

Damian looked thoughtful for a moment. “He’s… supportive of you. That’s good. Not everyone has that.”

Something in his tone caught your attention, but before you could ask about it, he glanced around your room, his sharp eyes landing on the stack of books by your bed.

“Are you still reading The Odyssey?” he asked, clearly redirecting the conversation.

“Yeah,” you said, letting him change the subject for now. “But it’s taking me forever. That language is so dense.”

“Perhaps I could help you with it,” Damian offered. “My mother insisted I study classical literature extensively. I could explain the parts you find difficult.”

Your eyes lit up. “Seriously? You’d do that?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay, but only if you don’t turn it into a pop quiz,” you teased, earning a small smirk from him.

As the two of you settled into an easy rhythm, the earlier awkwardness felt like a distant memory. For all his sharp edges and guarded demeanor, Damian had a way of making you feel seen, even when words weren’t enough. And right now, that was more than enough.

The evening light outside your bedroom window began to dim, casting a soft glow across the room. You were sitting cross-legged on the bed, your notebook open, Damian sitting beside you with his arms crossed, a rare look of concentration on his face. The comfortable silence between you was interrupted when Damian cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice quieter than usual. You turned to look at him, noting the slight shift in his posture, the subtle nervousness in his usually confident demeanor.

“Yeah?” you asked, tilting your head.

Damian shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tapping lightly on the bedspread. “I… uh… I need to tell you something.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his tone. He was always composed, so this was something new. “What is it?” you asked, your voice softening.

“I’ve… been meaning to say this for a while, but…” He paused, eyes avoiding yours for a moment, clearly gathering his thoughts. “I—” He took a breath and finally looked at you, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours. “I think I… I love you, Y/N.”

You froze, your mind racing as his words sank in. Damian Wayne, the boy who was always so controlled, so guarded, was confessing to you? It took a moment for your heart to catch up with your brain.

“I… love you too,” you whispered, your voice a little shaky, though the words felt completely natural coming out of your mouth.

Damian’s eyes widened in surprise, and he opened his mouth as if to say something more, but you didn’t give him the chance. Without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed your lips gently to his.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if you both were unsure of what this moment meant. But it didn’t take long before the kiss deepened, a silent agreement between you both that this was what you wanted. Your heart raced, and you pulled back just slightly, breathless.

Damian blinked at you, still processing, his face flushed, but there was a genuine smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You kissed me first,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

“I thought you’d never get there,” you teased, your smile matching his.

Damian shook his head in disbelief, but the smile never left his face. “I should’ve known you’d be the one to make the first move.”

The next morning, as you walked through the school gates with Damian by your side, it felt like something had changed in the air. The way people looked at you—more specifically, how they looked at the two of you—was different. Whispers followed in your wake, but now you didn’t mind.

Damian, ever the stoic figure, seemed unaffected by the attention, but you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as you held his hand. The warmth of his fingers entwined with yours grounded you, and for once, you didn’t care about the prying eyes.

As you reached the entrance of the school, a few boys from your grade approached you, their casual expressions betraying the curiosity in their eyes.

“Yo, Y/N!” one of them called out, nudging the others. “So, what’s the deal with you and Wayne?”

You blinked at him, a little caught off guard by the question. Damian didn’t even look at them, his jaw tightening slightly, but he didn’t pull away from you.

“Yeah, I thought you two were just friends,” another boy chimed in, clearly trying to get a reaction. “Didn’t see this coming.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Damian, his grip on your hand tightening slightly in a protective manner. But instead of feeling irritated or nervous, you felt a strange sense of calm.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said simply, looking the boys in the eye with a confidence you didn’t know you had before.

The boys looked at each other in surprise, clearly taken aback. “Wait, really?” the first one asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Damian Wayne? You two are together?”

Damian’s lips curled into the slightest of smirks, the way he always did when he was amused. “Why does that surprise you?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was a certain edge to it.

“Well, I guess we didn’t think you were the type to… you know,” the second boy said, trailing off, clearly uncomfortable now. “But hey, congrats, I guess.”

The group of boys exchanged uncertain looks, and after a moment of silence, they nodded and walked off, leaving you and Damian standing together.

You looked up at him, still holding his hand, and felt a wave of warmth wash over you. “That was… weird,” you admitted, your cheeks a little flushed.

Damian’s smirk turned into a small smile as he glanced down at you. “It’s fine. Let them gossip. It’s none of their business.”

You nodded, feeling a little more confident than you had before. As the day went on, more people began to notice the change between you and Damian, and soon enough, whispers turned into stares. But you didn’t care. Not with him by your side, holding your hand, his presence the reassurance you needed to face whatever came next.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and you took your usual seat next to Damian, the day feeling as normal as any other. You were still adjusting to holding hands with him in public, but his quiet, steady presence next to you made the whispers and stares from before feel insignificant. However, as the teacher began calling roll, you noticed someone new entering the classroom— a girl with long, wavy brown hair and striking features, her eyes scanning the room as she made her way to an empty desk.

“That’s the new girl,” you whispered to Damian, who glanced up at her before returning his gaze to his notebook.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Damian said, his tone a little colder than usual.

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could ask anything further, the new girl was introduced by the teacher.

“Class,” the teacher began, “this is Jessica. She’s transferring here from another school, so please make her feel welcome.”

Jessica flashed a bright smile as she took her seat, which just happened to be next to Damian. You could feel the shift in the air almost immediately. Damian’s usual cool demeanor seemed to stiffen, and his posture straightened, becoming more rigid.

The class went on, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Every time Jessica spoke to Damian, his replies were short, clipped, and distant, but there was something in his eyes that unsettled you—something that felt a little too familiar.

It wasn’t until after class, when everyone started packing up to head to the next period, that the situation became more apparent.

Jessica, her eyes glinting with an almost smug confidence, leaned over the desk toward Damian, her voice sweet but with an edge. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Damian?”

You felt your heart tighten in your chest at her tone, but you kept your mouth shut, watching the interaction unfold.

Damian stiffened, his face unreadable. “Not long enough,” he muttered under his breath.

Jessica chuckled, as if she found his discomfort amusing. “Come on, Damian, don’t be like that. You know I didn’t leave things on bad terms.”

You couldn’t help but notice how her hand brushed against his arm as she spoke, a deliberate, almost flirtatious gesture. The entire scene made your stomach churn.

As the conversation continued, you noticed something that made your heart skip: Jessica’s eyes flicked down to the bracelet on Damian’s wrist, the one you had made for him.

“Oh?” she said, a smirk creeping across her lips as she leaned closer to inspect the bracelet. “This is cute. Who gave you that, Damian?”

Your chest tightened at her tone, but before you could say anything, she turned her gaze to you, a cold smile forming. “Oh, wait,” she continued, her eyes narrowing in recognition. “You.”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as her words took shape.

“Did you make that for him, Y/N?” Jessica’s voice was dripping with sarcasm now, her smile turning cruel. “How sweet. You really think you’re… what, special to him? You’ve got to be kidding.”

Damian’s body tensed beside you, but it wasn’t until Jessica’s next words that you saw the anger flash in his eyes.

She chuckled darkly, her gaze flicking to your arms, where your scars were faintly visible under your sleeves. “It’s adorable, really. A girl like you thinking you can actually hold on to someone like Damian. Look at you. What do you even have to offer?”

The laughter that followed was harsh, almost bitter. “You’re pathetic. No wonder you’ve got all those scars on your arms. Probably another way to hide how ugly you really are.”

You felt like the world was collapsing around you as Jessica’s words cut through you like knives. You could feel every inch of your skin burning under the weight of her cruel words.

Before you could even respond, though, Damian’s hand shot out, grabbing Jessica’s wrist tightly and yanking it away from his arm.

“Enough,” Damian said, his voice low and icy, the anger evident in his features.

Jessica was taken aback, her eyes wide for a moment before narrowing again. “What’s the matter, Damian? Can’t take a joke? Did you forget who I am?”

“I don’t need reminders,” Damian spat, his grip tightening slightly on her wrist. “And you will not talk to her that way again.”

Jessica seemed momentarily stunned by his sudden intensity. “Oh, really? You’re defending her?” she asked, her voice mocking.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Damian said coldly, turning to you. He reached for your hand, his expression softening as he looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Y/N, are you okay?”

Your heart ached, but you nodded, giving him a small smile. “I’m fine,” you said, though your voice shook a little.

Damian’s gaze didn’t leave you as he stood up, leading you out of the classroom with a protective air. He didn’t let go of your hand as you both walked down the hallway, his presence a shield against the world.

“Damian, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, feeling guilty for causing such a scene.

He shook his head, his jaw set. “She had no right to say those things. No one has the right to treat you that way. You’re not pathetic, Y/N. You never have been.”

You swallowed, your heart swelling at his words. “Thanks, Damian.”

As you reached the exit of the school, the sound of whispers and stares followed you, but this time, they didn’t bother you as much. You knew Damian was there, and that was enough.

After school, as the final bell rang, Damian turned to you with a slight hesitation in his usual composed demeanor. “Y/N,” he began, his voice unusually soft. “Would you like to come over to my house today? I… I thought we could hang out.”

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Damian didn’t often extend these kinds of offers, and you’d never actually been to the Wayne estate. “Sure, I’d love to,” you said with a smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

“Good,” he said, his lips curving slightly upward, though he tried to hide it behind a faint frown. “I’ll have Alfred pick you up.”

“Alfred?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is he really that formal?”

Damian’s smirk returned, but there was a certain warmth in his eyes. “He’s just… proper. But you’ll see.”

A few minutes later, you were standing outside the school gates, the crisp air of late afternoon making you wrap your arms around yourself as you waited. You weren’t sure exactly what to expect, but the thought of spending time at Damian’s house felt strangely thrilling.

Alfred pulled up in the sleek black car, his ever-dignified presence bringing an instant sense of calm. He smiled warmly when he saw you.

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/N,” Alfred greeted, opening the car door for you. “It’s a pleasure to have you join us at the manor.”

You slid into the car, feeling a little out of place but grateful for Alfred’s kind demeanor. Damian joined you, the car pulling away smoothly from the school grounds.

As you drove through the city, the atmosphere between you and Damian felt lighter, almost like a new kind of understanding had settled between you. You could tell that he was a little nervous, but it was different than before—this time, it wasn’t the weight of his usual guardedness. It was… something else.

After a short drive, the car pulled into the grand driveway of Wayne Manor. You couldn’t help but stare at the sprawling estate as it came into view, its towering spires and vast grounds almost intimidating in their size.

“You live here?” you asked, incredulous as the car pulled to a stop.

Damian nodded, unbothered by your astonishment. “Yes. It’s… large. But I’ve gotten used to it.”

As you stepped out of the car, you couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all. Alfred led you inside, and as you entered the mansion, the atmosphere felt oddly homey—despite the wealth and luxury surrounding you.

“Master Damian, Miss Y/N,” Alfred said, turning to lead you both into the living room. “Master Bruce will be joining you shortly.”

You settled onto the large couch, your nerves calming slightly as you looked around at the tasteful decor. Everything seemed meticulously arranged, as if the mansion’s beauty was only outdone by the care with which it was maintained.

Soon, the door to the living room opened, and in walked none other than Bruce Wayne. He was dressed in casual attire, a far cry from his usual formal wear, yet his presence was undeniably commanding. When he saw you, his face softened into a warm smile.

“Y/N, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Bruce said, extending his hand.

You took it, smiling back at him. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce chuckled, his eyes glinting with something amused. “Please, call me Bruce. Damian talks a lot about you.”

You blinked, surprised by his statement. “He does?”

Damian, who had been standing nearby, immediately stiffened and turned a shade of red you rarely ever saw. “Father, you don’t need to—”

But Bruce just smiled knowingly, cutting him off. “Oh, he does, believe me. He’s been telling me all about his… friend,” Bruce teased, the playful gleam in his eyes making both you and Damian blush.

Damian scowled, his arms folding tightly across his chest. “You didn’t have to bring that up.”

You, on the other hand, felt a little warmth spread across your cheeks at the comment. “I, uh… I’m glad to hear it.” You cleared your throat, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “It’s nice to be here.”

Bruce chuckled softly, clearly amused by the tension between you and his son. “I’m sure Damian’s been a good host. Feel free to make yourself comfortable. Alfred will bring us something to drink shortly.”

Damian grumbled quietly to himself, but when you glanced at him, you saw the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was clear that despite his usual tough exterior, he was a little embarrassed by his father’s teasing.

You sat on the couch, feeling the weight of the situation shift. Bruce sat down beside you, continuing the conversation as if nothing was out of the ordinary. His easygoing nature made you feel more at ease in this unfamiliar setting, and for a moment, it felt like just another casual hangout—despite the grandeur of the place.

“Damian’s mentioned that you’ve been getting along quite well,” Bruce said, his tone light. “I’m glad to see him… opening up a little.”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t protest this time. Instead, he simply leaned back into the couch beside you, crossing his arms with his usual aloofness, though his eyes flickered toward you occasionally, a soft hint of something more in his gaze.

After a while, Alfred entered the room with drinks for all three of you. He set them down on the coffee table with his usual impeccable grace before stepping back with a nod.

“You two make yourselves comfortable,” Alfred said, with a wink in your direction. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

As he left, you and Damian exchanged a glance, both of you now sitting in the kind of comfortable silence that only the two of you could share. You weren’t sure what the night would bring, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, you realized that, for the first time in a while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[yingren]

tbd, tiny activity update.

i've not felt super happy about my writing lately like there are some things that bother me with my own writing and then i get a lil bit of a writers block bc of it. things have been left sittin for longer than usual but i will get to them soon. if i'm slow or i seem "picky" with what i reply to, you know why. nothing personal, it's all me.

[seumyo]

a softie for sentimentality, bakugou katsuki.

Bakugou wears a bracelet. You’ve known about it for as long as you could remember, but only decided to acknowledge it now that you’re in your third year at UA, two weeks before graduation.

It wasn’t flashy or adorned with any kind of logo—just a simple, sturdy piece of metal with a stainless clasp that he seemed to wear all the time. You tilted your head as you studied it.

“You’ve had that bracelet for as long as I can remember,” you said, sitting down on his study chair. It’s a privilege to even set foot inside of his room without immediately being told (yelled) off, really.

Bakugou looked up from his book and glanced at you. “Yeah, and?”

“Is there, like, a story behind it?”

“No story,” he said with a shrug, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

“Really? That’s so bland. I thought there’d be like a gut-wrenching or life-changing story for it.”

He sat up from his bed with a huff, his eyes narrowing at you. “It’s just somethin’ I wear. What’s it to you?”

You raised your hands in mock surrender, a playful smile on your lips. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious. Keep your secrets.”

“Fuck off, dipshit.”

“Again with that! Why can’t you be nicer now that we’re graduating?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

-

But the conversation stuck to you.

It’s the day of graduation when you presented him with a small, handmade box. It was simple, made of sturdy cardboard decorated with his signature colors and an orange ribbon to match. Bakugou rose a brow.

“What’s this for?” He asks, holding it up like the box might explode at any given moment, though there was no bite to it.

“A box.”

“No shit,” he scoffs, “what’s in it?”

“Open it to find out!” You egged him on.

Bakugou sighs, opening the box with a focused pout. He went quiet when he saw what was inside.

“Ta-da! A bracelet,” you said, smiling. “For you. Thought you could use something new to switch things up.”

He held the stringed bracelet in his hand, looking at the material as if it would erupt in flames if he glared hard enough. It was a stark contrast to his metal one—brightly colored warm complementary beads with little charms that somehow still managed to feel like him. There was a red charm shaped like an explosion, a black bead with a skull design, and a small silver charm with an engraved kanji for “strength.”

“I’m not wearing this,” he said flatly.

It’s like your cartoonish heart balloon had suddenly been popped with a prickly needle.

“What? Why not? It’s cool!” you argued. “I even made it myself to really match you!”

“It’s not my style.”

“Sure it is. Look, it’s got black, silver, and even a little red—it screams Bakugou Katsuki.”

“I didn’t get you anythin’ as a parting gift,” he tells you.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s fine,” you replied, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just thought this’ll go with your metal bracelet.”

He nodded, though there was a somewhat frustrated pout on his expression, muttering something under his breath a soft “thanks,” and placed the gift back in the box, never actually letting you see him wearing it during that moment.

-

Years later, during a photoshoot for the yearly hero gala, Bakugou stood in front of the camera in his full Dynamight suit. The photographer adjusted the lights, snapping rapid shots as Bakugou struck his signature confident poses.

“Hold still,” the stylist said, adjusting his gauntlet slightly. Her eyes flicked to his wrist, and she paused. “Oh, that’s cute. Is that handmade?”

Bakugou blinked, following her gaze. Wrapped around his wrist, right next to his ever-present metal bracelet, was the colorful string bracelet you had made him all those years ago.

He stiffened slightly, but instead of taking it off, he shrugged. “Yeah. What about it?”

The stylist smiled warmly. “It’s a nice touch. Makes you seem... approachable. And quite frankly, it matches your suit.”

Bakugou snorted. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

-

When the photos surfaced online, fans quickly noticed the bracelet. Social media practically exploded that day.

Is Dynamight wearing a friendship bracelet??

A HANDMADE BRACELET ON DYNAMIGHT??

Guys, he’s worn this thing for YEARS. Check the old pictures! 🙂‍↔️

You, of course, caught wind of the news—because honestly, who wouldn’t when it took all social media platforms by storm? You saw the posts one evening while scrolling through your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the photos. It was unmistakable—the bracelet you had made all those years ago.

Long after your UA days were behind you and your lives had taken you and Bakugou down different paths, the all-too-familiar bracelet made you smile sadly—more nostalgic happiness than actual sadness, really.

You stared at the screen, sighing quietly. You thought back to the last time you’d spoken, to the unspoken decision that had pulled you in different directions. You never thought something as small as a bracelet would still mean anything to him.

You didn’t even think you’d live to see the day he wears it, much less keep it after the years.

But there it was, bright and unapologetic on his wrist, a subtle reminder of a bond that hadn’t completely faded with time.

Somewhere across the city, Bakugou stood on a rooftop, the evening wind tugging at his hero uniform. He glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist, running his thumb over the frayed edges of the string. He smirked to himself, a quiet acknowledgment of the past and the person who’d given it to him.

“Guess you were right,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind. “It does scream Bakugou Katsuki.”

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[babydollmarauders]

MISTLETOE MAKE UP — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which luke plays christmas cupid after watching jack mope around missing his ex-girlfriend. (6.2k words)

notes: honestly hard to believe that this is my final hockey fic, i just wanna say thank you to everyone who has interacted with any of my fics because i really appreciate all the love and kindness that’s spread on here, and a big thank you to @thedevilrisen for allowing me the honor of participating in this wonderful Ho Ho Hockey event as my farewell to NHL fic writing 🤍 i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it 🤍

“i’ll pay you.”

desperation drips from the lowly whispered words as Luke unlaces his skates from beside his captain.

“i don’t want your money.” Nico rolls his eyes at the young player, matching his hushed tone. both men give a quick once over at their teammate across the locker room before their heads dip low, bowing together to continue their private conversation, “why are you so set on this?”

“i can’t answer that.” Luke huffs out quickly, Nico’s curiosity rising farther, “can you just make it happen?”

Nico shrugs, “i guess so. but i want the answer after the party.”

Luke pulls away, kicking off his skates, “that’s fine. if all goes to plan, you’ll understand my plan quicker than that.”

with that, Luke turns away, carrying on in his undressing after the conclusion of practice.

***

“secret santa time! everyone take one name from the hat as i make my way around!” Nico’s voice booms across the locker room, attracting everyone’s attention to the black New Jersey Devils hat grasped in his hand, nearly overflowing with pieces of folded paper inside.

eyes meeting with Luke’s, Nico gives a nearly inconceivable nod, affirming their previous conversation. he makes his way around the locker room, letting each player pick a name out of the hat, purposefully skipping over his close friend until he’s the last to pick.

with a subtle switch of the hat to his other hand, the Devils captain drops one final slip of folded paper into the empty hat before making his way over.

Jack disinterestedly plucks the final piece of paper from the hat, his dulled eyes widening as he reads the name.

“alright, everyone has a name! that’s who you’re getting a gift for!”

“hey, Neeks?” Jack’s voice pipes up.

“NO SWITCHING!” Nico calls out, cutting his fellow forward off before he can get the chance to ask. “see you all for practice tomorrow!”

avoiding Jack’s lingering presence, Nico grabs his things before hauling out of the locker room; leaving his friend behind him, blinking in wonder as he questions what the hell he’s gonna do now.

Nico’s already typing out a quick text as he climbs into his car, hitting send before he even leaves the arena.

to: Y/N

Hey, just did the secret santa drawing. You have Jack. No switches. See you at the party!

***

“i want it to be cute.” her statement causes a chuckle to bubble up Luke’s throat.

“the whole point of an ugly christmas sweater is for it to be ugly, y/n.” his reply earns him a disapproving groan from the other side of the phone.

“you know what i mean,” she lilts, “of course it’ll be an ugly christmas sweater, but there’s a difference between cute ugly and ugly ugly, ya know?”

“uhhh, no? is this a girly thing?” Luke questions his friend as he beeline’s through the crowded department store, knowing exactly what to grab. “like when you used to tell Jack that you would be ready in five minutes but really you meant fifteen minutes but you didn’t wanna say fifteen minutes cause you knew he’d whine?”

“what? you know what, nevermind. i don’t have time for this. thank you for grabbing me a sweater but i have to get back to work, i’ll see you at the party.” her words come out rushed and whispered, cluing Luke in that her break is over and she’s back in the office.

“yeah, i’ll bring the sweater to the party for you. see you.”

his eyes lock on the bright red sweater in front of him, a perfect match to one he knows is laying on the back of a chair in he and Jack’s apartment. pulling her size off the rack, he makes his way to the cashier and pays before heading back out to his car; hiding the sweater in the glovebox so his brother doesn’t see it.

***

the sweater is slightly itchy and she knows he definitely grabbed the wrong size.

“does it fit okay?”

no.

“yeah,” she nods, the perfectly styled curls in her hair bouncing with every bob of her head, “thank you, Lukey. i really appreciate it.“

“it’s no problem.” he swallows, his eyes drifting toward the closed entry of Nico’s apartment, the loud laughter of his team and their significant others carrying through the thick wooden door. “you ready?”

“do you want me to lie? or should i be honest?” her self deprecating chuckle tells Luke all he needs to know.

“isn’t it time you guys faced each other? maybe this is what you need.”

“what i need is a drink,” a deep puff of breath releases from her mouth in an exasperated sigh.

“what am i even doing here? i said yes to coming over a month ago, when i actually belonged here, Luke. nobody wants me here except apparently you and Nico.” Luke’s heart aches at the unshed tears that gather in her eyes, obviously reminiscing on what went down just a month prior.

“no, we all want you here. what you mean is that you don’t think Jack wants you here.” he corrects, “which is also wrong. he may not admit it, but i know he’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“if he wanted to see me, he would call me. or text me. or show up at my damn door.” she mutters dejectedly, “we broke up. he doesn’t wanna see me.”

“y/n-” Luke starts, the truth sitting on the tip of his tongue.

that Jack has been miserable without her.

that he’s been driving Luke crazy asking how she’s doing.

that Jack hasn’t called or texted or shown up at her door because he thinks she doesn’t want to see him.

that he hasn’t been himself since they broke up and that it’s causing Luke to wanna put his head through a wall.

but before Luke can voice any of that, the door beside him swings open, the hinges creaking as his older brother steps into the hall.

“oh,” Jack stops; freezing when he locks eyes with the girl standing just a few feet away, “hey.”

her back steels and for anyone else, it would seem as though y/n is completely unbothered; indifferent to the run-in. but Luke could spot the sadness in her eyes from a mile away.

“hi.” she stammers, the hands in which she grips a gift bag of red and green tissue paper being shoved behind her back.

the hallway is quiet for a moment, the two ex-lovers silently inspecting each other with an identical expression of love and loss; wanting and wishing; pain and desperation.

and when Luke sees they’ve taken notice of their matching sweaters, looking down at themselves before their eyes dart back to each other? he knows, it’s time to get his plan started.

“let’s get this party started!”

taking the lead, Luke enters through the doorway, the two exes following behind him at respectable distances until they arrive into the crowded apartment.

y/n tries to keep close to Luke, but quickly loses track of him as he disappears amongst his teammates.

“Y/N!” a mellow accent calls out, a hefty arm slinging over her shoulder as she sets the aforementioned gift bag on a table of presents.

“hi, Timo.” she smiles, gifting a quick squeeze to the taller man beside her.

but as she hugs one man, her eyes drift to another, accidentally colliding with the icy blue of Jack’s as he stares at his teammate with a look that sends a rack of shivers down her spine.

“i didn’t think you were coming,” the swiss grins, finally taking a step back and letting his arm fall back down to his side. his eyebrows lift as he looks between the former couple, “are you guys back together?”

at the question, Jack coughs, slowly shaking his head as y/n answers, “no- uh, no.”

before Timo can ask any more questions, Luke reappears by her side, filling the gap of space between she and Jack.

“are you coming to get a drink or what?” a knowing smile rests upon his lips, y/n’s eyes narrowing at his chipper attitude.

but the need to take the edge of anxiety off her shoulders overrides any sense of self preservation that she previously held.

“lead the way.”

Luke cocks his head toward the doorway that she knows leads to the kitchen. as she follows behind him, Jack hot on her trail, she’s reminded of all the times she’s been in this apartment before; team parties and hang outs with the guys, accompanying Jack as he dropped things off to his captain, and the very first time he introduced her to his friends.

she nearly runs into Luke’s back as he makes an abrupt stop just inside the kitchen, causing Jack to side step and pause in the entryway beside her in order to avoid bumping into her.

“oh hey, mistletoe!” Luke chimes, a bit too happy as he waves a hand above where the former couple stands.

two heads snap up to look above them, cheeks becoming a ferocious shade of red as they glance between each other and the plant that hangs above their heads.

“ooooh!” a voice sings out in a childishly teasing tone and Jack and y/n look over to see Dougie standing beside Luke, pointing at the dangling mistletoe. his loud tone garners the attention of the many people who hang about the kitchen, several eyes widening as they spot the plant above the exes.

“kiss!” Bree calls out as she sidles up beside her fiancé, “if Dougie and i had to, and Nicole and Jesper had to, and hell, even Timo and Nico had to, then so do you! kiss!”

her words start a chant amongst the crowded area, a dozen or so people loudly chorusing the word “kiss!” over and over, their eyes glued to Jack and y/n, who stand in the doorway with blushing cheeks and sad eyes.

“you don’t have to,” y/n starts, her voice a mere whisper as she tries not to choke on her words.

“it’s okay. let’s just give the people what they want,” Jack cuts her off.

allowing muscle memory to take control, his hand rests upon the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he guides her lips to his. as his lips make a featherlight brush against hers, y/n allows her eyes to flutter shut, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and want.

Jack slots his lips against hers, his breath stilling as he reminisces on the time when he could do this freely. the time he wants back so damn badly.

the time before he started that petty argument over her always steaming up the bathroom and leaving a puddle of water outside the shower. before she accused him of starting things just to argue. before he said those six little words. those six stupid words that he’s come to regret more than anything else he’s ever said or done. those six foolish words that have caused him more misery and pain than any injury ever could.

“maybe we should just break up!”

her body melts into his, her hand resting on his chest, settling over his rapidly beating heart. the kiss is just as good as she remembers, still soft and sweet and dripping with feelings of love and comfort. his hands on her skin still fill her with excitement and a sense of security that she’s only ever felt with him.

as he pulls away, she only just stops herself from chasing his lips once more; from stealing his breath one more time and capturing his lips with hers once again.

but she doesn’t do that.

she refrains and allows him to step back, the loss of his touch leaving a chilly breeze in the place his hand had just occupied. and a whole new sense of longing pangs in her chest.

but when they both look back to the crowded kitchen, no one is paying them any attention. the gaggle of people have resumed whatever conversations they had held before the exes arrival.

“a drink,” she whispers, her fingertips tracing over her slightly swollen lips as she walks toward the countertop occupied by several bottles of liquor and soda, “i need a drink.”

but as she reaches for a bottle of berry flavored vodka, she risks one glance over her shoulder, her eyes locking on Jack’s downturned head as he stares at his shoes. his body is still rooted in the entryway, his own hands rubbing over his face as he seems to angrily mutter to himself.

and as she turns back to mixing herself a drink, Jack’s own eyes rise to look at her stiffened shoulders and rigid posture. watching her mix her signature drink of lemonade and berry vodka, all he can do is scold himself and observe as she takes a sip and then turns to greet his captain as he steps up beside her.

and all Jack can think is how badly he wants to taste the sweet and alcoholic taste on her lips as he kisses her again.

without the help of a stupid plant this time.

***

y/n has spent the last hour of her time engaged in conversations with anyone she can talk to; actively avoiding her ex and hoping he can’t see just how flustered that kiss made her feel. and just how badly she wants to do it again.

y/n watches as Luke bounces around the room, taking note that he’s only speaking to the fellow singles of the team.

what is he up to?

“so you and Jack,” her attention is pulled back to the conversation at hand, her face turning towards Nicole once again, “you guys are finally back together?”

y/n opens her mouth to deny, but Nicole just keeps talking, “i mean, it’s about time. everyone knew it would happen, we were just biting our tongues and waiting for Jack to stop being so mopey and get his head out of his ass long enough to apologize for whatever he did.”

Nicole laughs at her own words as y/n blinks in surprise.

mopey? jack was moping?

wasn’t this exactly what he wanted?

what he asked for?

“we’re not together again,” y/n sighs, shaking her head as she allows her eyes to search out her ex for the hundredth time that night, “Luke and Nico said i still had to come, so here i am.”

“oh,” Nicole’s eyes widen, a true deer-in-headlights look if y/n had ever seen one, “i’m sorry, forget i said anything.”

“it’s okay, you’re not the first to ask tonight,” y/n chuckles, a twinge of sarcasm laced within the sound, “and you probably won’t be the last. it’s odd that i’m here, right? i tried to back out and Nico and Luke wouldn’t let me, but i shouldn’t be here, right? this is his territory.”

Nicole shakes her head, her hand coming up to gently rub against y/n’s arm in a comforting motion as she cuts off her rambles, “you have every right to be here. you became friends with everyone here just as much as he did, y/n.”

“i don’t know,” y/n shrugs in a self-pity filled moment, “it feels like maybe i should just go home, you know? i don’t wanna make him any more uncomfortable than i already have.”

Nicole laughs, her head tipping back as a shrill giggle escapes her lips. as she composes herself from her outburst, she gazes at y/n’s furrowed brows and confused expression before pushing her face to look over at Jack, who stands across the room laughing at something Curtis said.

“does that look like he’s uncomfortable to you?” Nicole huffs out another laugh as she shakes her head, “that boy has been looking at you like a lovesick puppy all night. he’s seemed happier tonight than he has after any winning game in this past month.”

“i-”

“gingerbread house time!” Nico’s booming accent sweeps across the apartment, attracting the attention of the entire crowd of people, “get in pairs and go to one of the stations of gingerbread because the best gingerbread house at the end of the hour gets a mystery prize!”

when y/n looks back to Nicole, Jesper has already glued himself to his fiancée’s side, ushering her towards the dining room table.

turning towards where she last saw Luke, y/n is more than a little affronted to see him stood beside Timo at one of the gingerbread house stations; and the more she looks around the room, the more she’s realizing that everyone already seems to be paired up.

everyone except the very person she had hoped would be paired up. the very person who is walking right towards her with an awkwardly bashful smile.

“guess it’s you and me,” Jack shrugs, pushing his hands deep within his front pockets as y/n nods, a pink hue lighting up her cheeks as her shoulder bumps his when they take their place in front of the last available station.

y/n easily takes the lead, the more creative of the two, and Jack is all too happy to just follow her instructions. he watches in silent admiration as she decorates each wall of the house with a white icing bag and attempts to copy her designs on the symmetrical pieces in order for to help finish their house faster.

Jack takes pleasure in the light grazes of their fingers as they stick the walls of the gingerbread house together. noting the blush that creeps upon her cheeks and neck as she giggles when he mocks a salute after each order she makes of him.

they work in tandem, a well-oiled machine as they construct the house, sneaking peeks at other houses as they work; studying their competition.

“i think we’ve got this in the bag,” Jack tells her, his head bowing down to whisper in her ear. her entire body heats as his lips ghost the shell of her ear; a shiver tracing down her spine when the oddly intoxicating scent of mint and beer hits her nostrils, along with the overwhelmingly familiar warmth of his cologne, “poor bastards, i’ve got a secret weapon that they don’t even realize.”

“oh yeah?” a smirk curls at the side of her lips. she pulls away to look in his eyes, a familiar feeling buried deep within them that makes her heart speed up in her chest, “and what’s that?”

Jack grins, electricity buzzing between them as he dips his head lower, their faces inches apart, “you.”

heat pools deep within her stomach, that same fuzzy feeling she used to get when he would flop on top of her in bed after a long day. when he would tease her that it was his ‘recharging’ time and that he needed to hear her heartbeat to remind him that she’s alive and that he was lucky enough for her to choose him out of all the guys in Newark.

y/n loses herself in the memory, zoning out as her eyes focus on watching Jack apply icing the roof of the gingerbread house, whilst her mind is far off in the past.

“time’s up!” Nico’s exclamation pulls her back to the present, Jack’s hand dropping the icing bag on the table. they stand back to study their creation, shoulders bumping as they both nod in agreement of their job well done.

Nico slowly makes his way around the stations, carefully studying each and every gingerbread house until he finally makes it to the former couple, a clap of his hands startling the two ex-lovers.

“i think we have a winner!” Nico shouts, making a wild wave of his hands towards their gingerbread house, “congratulations, Jack and y/n!”

everyone slowly retreats back to the living room, leaving the three of them behind in the dining area.

“here’s your prize,” Nico smirks knowingly, handing y/n a slip of paper, “i suggest using it during the break.”

Jack peers over her shoulder, his close proximity making y/n a little woozy as she feels his chest press against her back while her reads the paper in her hands. the two don’t even notice Nico retreating, too busy staring at the paper.

“a couples massage?” y/n blinks, “what was he planning to do if Timo and Luke had won? were they gonna have a romantic massage together?”

“i think we both know Luke would never win a gingerbread house competition,” Jack laughs, their eyes drawing up to look over at Luke and Timo’s half built house, which is missing a roof and a wall, “i’m pretty sure he ate half their house… and Nate’s.”

the house beside Luke and Timo’s also lacks a wall, and when y/n glances into the living room, she sees Luke idling beside a few of his teammates. a half eaten wall of gingerbread clutched in his grasp, making her choke out a laugh.

“he’s still eating it,” she knocks her body back against Jack’s, pointing his younger brother out to him.

but Jack is too busy to look. too focused on where her back has leaned to rest lazily against his chest, just like she used to do when she began to tire out while they were hanging with his team. when she used to lean back against him, her head resting against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her midsection, holding her up as she her blinking got slower and heavier. yet she always refused to go, telling him she didn’t want to cut his time with his friends short.

“well, uh, you can have this,” she stammers, stepping away and putting the dreaded distance back between them as she turns and holds the paper out towards Jack.

“no, you can have it,” he shakes his head, pushing her hand back toward her chest, “i wouldn’t be able to put it to use.”

“you think i would?” she blinks, “i’m sure you can give it to your parents or something, just take it.”

“you hold on to it.” he insists, stepping back when she tries to hold the paper back out to him, “maybe you’ll end up needing it.”

“what if i don’t wanna use it with anyone?” she remarks, “you know i don’t feel comfortable doing that kind of stuff with people.”

“you did it with me,” his response makes her freeze, her body tensing at the first verbal acknowledgment of their relationship.

“that was different.” she mutters, tears now burning at the backs of her eyes, trying to push their way out.

“why?” he questions, eyebrows threading together as though to mock confusion, because she knows that he knows why. he just wants to hear her say it.

and how cruel that is.

how cruel he is for making her remind him of how special he was to her; how comfortable he made her.

“because it was you.” her words are a whisper, her voice breaking on several syllables as she sets the paper down on the table.

Jack is fast with a reply, but y/n’s feet are faster, carrying her out of the room and down the hallway before he can get a word out. she locks herself in the bathroom, tears breaking free and flowing down her cheeks.

she’s no longer capable of holding them back. no longer able to pretend any longer that she doesn’t regret walking away; letting him win that argument instead of fighting for them. for him.

“y/n?” a knock sounds at the bathroom door, Luke’s voice carrying through the wood, “you in there?”

clearing her throat, y/n shakes her head in attempt to pull herself together.

“yeah!” she calls back, plucking a tissue from the box on the counter and dabbing at her tear stained cheeks.

“we’re about to do secret santa.” Luke informs her, and y/n nods, though she knows he can’t see her.

“i’ll be right out!” she amends, wiping her nose and throwing the crumpled tissue into the wastebasket.

she’s runs a hand over her hair, making sure she looks presentable before she opens the door to a worrisome Luke.

“are you okay?”

“never better!” she paints on a grin, bumping her hip against his in a cheerful manner as she makes her way past him, making her way back to the living room.

everyone is standing around when she arrives, watching as Dawson opens a gift bag and pulls out a hat, a hoodie, and an extremely broken candy cane.

“thank you, secret santa.” he chuckles, making Curtis nod.

“you’re welcome.” Curtis looks especially pleased with himself, causing the crowded living room to laugh, “the candy cane was Owen’s contribution.”

“that makes more sense.” Dawson laughs, fist bumping Curtis as he sits down on the armrest of the sofa.

“let’s see who’s next,” Nico trails off, plucking a badly wrapped present from the top of the gift table. he reads the name tag on the gift, smirking as he does so, “y/n.”

“oh, okay,” she gives a soft smile, accepting the gift from Nico’s outstretched hands.

peeling off the paper from the heavy gift, y/n’s eyes widen at the black Coach purse she’s been eyeing for months. her heart stops, only two people in this very room knowing how badly she’s been wanting this exact extra roomy purse. but as she holds it in her hands, she feels something hard and heavy on the inside. peering inside the purse, her hands tremble at the sight that greets her. inside the spacious purse, sits a special edition copy of a book she knows she’s pointed out at Barnes & Noble, remarking about how it’s her favorite book. and underneath the gorgeous foiled covered book with sprayed edges, rests two gift cards; one to that very book store, and another to Amazon.

there’s only one person who would know both how badly she’s wanted this purse, and how badly she wanted this special edition copy.

her eyes rise slowly, blinking back even more tears as she gazes across the room at her ex-boyfriend, a d the way her worries at his bottom lip in anxious anticipation of her reaction, confirms her suspicions of who her secret santa was.

“thank you, Jack.” she whispers softly, unsure if he could even hear her, but when he nods in acknowledgment, she knows he did, “i love them.”

“yeah, of course,” he coughs, nodding his head again, attempting extremely hard to keep his composure, “it was no problem.”

“alright!” Nico grins widely, seeming particularly happy as he locks eyes with Luke who idles beside him, “next is…”

Nico picks another gift from the table and reads the name tag before handing it off to someone else. it goes like that for at least fifteen minutes, practically every gift some variation of the same things; a hoodie, a hat, a wallet, a full upper body heating pad, etc.

but while everyone else is watching as gifts are opened and secret santa’s become less secret, y/n’s eyes keep wandering to the man who stands across the room. the one who finds her looking at him more than once.

but can he blame her?

her heart swells in her chest as she peeks back down at her gifts. he knew her so well. he knew exactly what she wanted and he made it happen. and that thought alone had her planning to pull him to the side later. she needed to talk to him, one on one. a real talk this time, not surrounded by people but just them and their words.

“Jack,” Nico smirks, handing the familiar gift bag over to the man of her attention.

y/n watches with bated breath as Jack pulls out the tissue paper at the top of the bag, his hand reaching in to pull out the first gift; a Carhartt half-zip that she had seen him eyeing a couple months ago. she can’t guarantee that he hasn’t gotten any of the gifts for himself in the time they’ve been apart, but she crosses her fingers in hopes that he hasn’t.

she studies Jack’s crooked smile as he eyes the half-zip, and she knows he’s probably already mentally planning an outfit to go with it. which makes her huff a laugh to herself underneath her breath.

Jack then reaches in and pulls out a box, which y/n knows belongs to the kindle she bought two months ago when he made a comment about needing to get himself one as he cuddled up with his head on her stomach whilst she read on hers. Jack’s eyes dart up to hers after he spots the last thing in the bag, opening the shoe box to reveal a brand new pair of golf shoes, the same pair he had showed her a few months prior and said he wanted to get for the next summer.

a wary smile stretches tightly across her lips, hoping and praying to whatever higher power there may be that he doesn’t already have any of the gifts.

“thank you, y/n.” he smiles a wide toothy grin as he puts the gifts back in the bag.

“you’re welcome.”

the routine starts again, the final few people opening their gifts as Jack and y/n glance at each other with longing deep within their eyes.

once the final person has opened their gift, the party resumes to its regularly scheduled holiday music and chatter, and Luke and Nico watch from a corner of the room as Jack and y/n continue to steal glances at each other.

with hesitant steps, they meet in the middle of the living room, y/n’s hands trembling as she builds up her courage.

“i-” “do you-”

they both give an awkward chuckle as they speak over each other.

“you first,” Jack cocks his head as she takes a deep breath, collecting herself.

“do you wanna go somewhere we can talk?” she asks, before clarifying, “in private.”

Jack nods, “yeah, c’mon.”

he leads her down the hallway of doors, stepping into the open guest room as she follows behind him. he takes a seat on the end of the bed, setting his gift bag on the floor beside him.

“thank you for my gifts.” her voice shakes as she stops in front of him, setting her new purse gingerly on the bed before sitting beside him, “you’re very thoughtful. i didn’t think you’d paid that much attention to my yapping.”

Jack’s eyes darken at her sorrowful chuckle, his brows furrowing, “y/n, i listened to everything you said.”

her own eyebrows raise in surprise as he continues, “listening to you talk is my favorite thing in the world.”

is.

not ‘was’.

is.

“oh,” she blinks, trying to decide what to make of his words, “besides hockey, you mean.”

“i said what i said, y/n.” he shakes his head, “i like hearing you talk about things you love and things you’re passionate about.”

her heart skips what she feels is numerous beats as he waves a hand towards the gifts beside her, “you told me about these things a few months ago and i bought them right after you told me.”

“that purse?” he muses, “i bought that online as you were laying on my chest. literally right after you showed it to me for the first time. i didn’t even need to buy any new gifts for the secret santa because i had them all sitting on the top shelf of my closet.”

his eyebrows furrow and his eyes narrow as he corrects himself, “except the book. i pre-ordered that when you showed it to me online but it got here last week.”

her eyes are soft as she observes the man in front of her, soaking in every word he said. blood collects in her cheeks as she regards him, as she comes to realize just how much he loved her.

“i bought your presents a few months ago too,” she quirks, “i was slowly collecting them to give you at christmas but…”

she trails off, refusing to say the words that hang in the air.

they broke up.

they’re not together anymore.

he wanted them to be over.

“y/n,” he starts with a heavy sigh, her eyes trailing back up from the floor to look at his face, “i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.”

“if i could take back everything i said, i would. i was stressed and i took it out on you and it wasn’t right. i know it wasn’t right. i said things that i regret now. god, i wish you could understand how badly i regret them. as soon as you left, i knew i had fucked up. i wanted to take it all back so bad, but i couldn’t because i said them and you were gone. i didn’t think you would want anything to do with me after that, so i gave you your space and i thought i was doing what was right by leaving you alone, but if i could go back? i never would’ve said we should break up.”

her eyes sting as a single tear trails down her cheek. listening to him express his regret and anger with himself has her desperate to touch him; to comfort him in any way she can.

“i love you, y/n. and i know it’s probably too late, but i just need you to know how sorry i am for what happened, and i need you to know that i do still love you.”

Jack takes a deep breath, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears as he attempts to blink them back, because he doesn’t want her to think he turned on the waterworks to try and make her feel sorry for him. he doesn’t want her to take him back out of pity. he doesn’t expect her to take him back at all.

because he wouldn’t, if he were her.

he couldn’t blame her. he was a jerk, and he hurt her when she didn’t deserve it.

“i’m sorry i left.” her words are raspy and choked, so quiet that Jack can barely make them out. but his head snaps up in surprise as he registers her statement.

“y/n, no-” but before he can tell her she nothing to apologize for, she cuts him off.

“i’m sorry i didn’t fight you harder. i should’ve yelled and screamed if i needed to. i should’ve fought to keep us, and instead i just walked away. and i’m so sorry that i did, Jack.” her voice trembles, cracking on a few syllables as she turns to face him better.

“i love you so much, and i should’ve fought harder to keep you. i knew you were stressed and i knew that you probably weren’t in the right mindset, but i still left. because, i thought once you were feeling better, you would’ve called or texted or shown up or something. but then you didn’t and i realized that maybe i made a mistake by leaving your apartment that night. i realized that maybe i should’ve stayed and fought with you. i should’ve told you ‘no’ when you said we should break up. i should’ve refused. but then i thought, maybe you really did just mean it. maybe i was the reason you were stressed. maybe you truly just didn’t want to be with me anymore. and i had to accept that. but i still haven’t accepted it, because i still want you.”

before she can even think to say more, her mouth is covered by his, a breathless and heated kiss pressed to her lips.

tangling his hands in her hair, Jack pulls her even closer to him, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip. her lips part beneath his, and his tongue slips between them, leaving soft caresses against her own as she lets out a low whimper.

pulling back, they both pant for air, their bodies alight with the soft hum of electricity that sparks when they’re close.

“if you’ll still have me, i still really really want you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against hers with every move.

with her forehead pressed against his, she nods eagerly, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips, “please.”

“you gonna be my girlfriend again?” he nearly begs, a smile lighting up his face as she nods again, humming an ‘mhm’ in agreement, “i love you, pretty girl.”

“i love you too,” she whispers, coaxing his lips back to hers in another heavy, breathless kiss.

one of his hands travels down her body, bunching under her sweater as her hands grip his in fistfuls at his hips.

“you’re welcome!”

the two newly reunited lovers jolt apart, heads snapping to look at the doorway, Luke idles with his arms crossed against his chest.

“what?” Jack scoffs, scowling at his younger brother.

“you didn’t seriously think tonight happened by fate, did you?” it’s Luke’s turn to scoff, “i asked Nico to make sure you got each other for secret santa, i made sure everyone else was partnered up for the gingerbread houses, i made sure you got matching sweaters, and i made you stop under the mistletoe.”

Luke shakes his head as he continues, “do you know how fucking exhausting it was watching you two mope around for the past month and ask me for updates on each other? you’re welcome! this is the only christmas gift you’re getting from me, so don’t expect anything else.”

Jack and y/n stare at Luke in a daze, astonished by his outburst.

“um, thank you?” she lilts, tilting her head as she watches Luke push off the doorframe and spin around.

“mhm! i’m staying here at Nico’s tonight. you’re welcome! again!”

[syluslnd]

Hello! Been binged reading your Sylus hcs/fics and would want to try my shot in this request. How would Sylus react to MC using his black card but only spending it for like ice cream and simple stuff? Like, he's glad/amuse/or what that MC is using his card but became ?? when he saw what MC purchased? (I saw this thing on TikTok years ago but I couldn't remember the exact prompt). Tyia if this request makes it out!

sylus reaction to you spending his money

Sylus sits behind his large, mahogany desk, the dim lighting of his office casting shadows over his sharp features. His usual composed expression falters slightly as he pulls up the statement from his black card, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He expected charges for high-end jewelry, exclusive fashion boutiques—things that exuded status and wealth. Instead, his dark gaze trails over the unexpected: ice cream parlors and… plushies from a toy store?

He stares at the screen for a moment longer, processing before a soft chuckle escapes him—something rare, almost amused.

You walk into the room, unaware of the reaction you’re about to receive. Sylus leans back in his chair, a slow smile creeping across his face, arms folded. His gaze follows you as you approach, clearly waiting for something.

“I didn’t realize you had such… expensive tastes” he says, voice laced with amusement. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes but his tone carries that usual, unshakeable power.

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

He taps his fingers lightly against the desk, still holding the black card statement. “Ice cream shops and let’s not forget the… plushies?”

Your confusion deepens and you nod slowly. “Yeah, the stuffed animals were cute. I couldn’t resist. Why?”

Sylus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he stands up, stepping closer to you. “I gave you access to all my resources—jewelry, designer clothes, anything you wanted and you went for… a toy store.”

You stare at him, completely unphased by his teasing tone. “Well, yeah, what’s wrong with ice cream and plushies?”

He stops right in front of you, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Nothing at all sweetie ” he says softly, though there’s a trace of disbelief in his voice. “But you could’ve bought anything—something expensive, something luxurious—and you chose… something so adorable.”

“I don’t need all that other stuff” you reply, still not understanding why he’s so surprised.

Sylus chuckles again, shaking his head slightly. His hand brushes your cheek gently, his thumb tracing your jawline. “You really are something else” he murmurs, eyes filled with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “I expected you to be just like everyone else. But you’re full of surprises.”

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Next time, at least let me take you for ice cream.”

You tilt your head, finally catching on to his teasing tone. “Oh, you thought I’d use it for something flashy?”

He pulls back, his expression softening, though his smirk remains. “Exactly. But you’re far cuter than that.”

[sena-seastar]

Mine all mine

Aemond x Wife reader

Summary: Yours and Aemond's child refuses to let you sleep.

A/N: This is a short fluff piece I wrote two years ago after season one ended. I just thought I would post it now.

“Hush now, little one, I’ve-” you yawn, trying to blink the sleep away from your eyes.  “I’ve got you.” You tiredly cooed as you picked up the writhing baby from her cradle for the fourth time.

“She’s quite restless tonight,” your husband groaned from your shared bed.

You patted the baby on the back to soothe the sniffling girl, humming in agreement. Then, you placed the back of your hand against her clammy forehead.

“She’s quite warm; perhaps we should send for a maester?”

You watched as Aemond sat up. He instinctively reached for the black leather eyepatch to conceal his sapphire eye before stopping himself. It had taken him almost a year after the two of you wed before he felt comfortable enough to let you see him without it. But even now, a couple of years later, insecurity still managed to worm its way under his skin.

His long hair started falling out of the simple braid you had put it in before bed. The child gurgled and squirmed with excitement when he walked to your side. 

A wide grin stretched across his face as your daughter squealed with delight as he took her into his arms.

“How is my little one feeling? Mother thinks you're unwell,” he scrunched his face, making the baby giggle.

“I’m serious, Aemond. You know what the maester said. If she gets another fever, we should take her to him.”

“She’s a little warm, my love. Most likely from that thick blanket, you insisted on wrapping her in.” He chided, lazily gesturing towards the cradle.

“She was cold,” you mumble, realizing that perhaps the man was right. Not that you were willing to admit that to him.

Your little family made your way back to the large bed in the middle of the room. The sky was beginning to lighten, though the sun had yet to appear. The loud chirping of birds could be heard, along with the servants who had awoken to start their daily duties before the nobles awoke. You climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over your body to fight off the morning chill. Aemond rested his back against the pillows, sitting your child on his lap.

You watched with a smile as Daenys toyed with her father’s fingers. She quickly lowered her face and bit down. The man pulled it back with an exaggerated hiss. The little girl froze, her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open in shock. However, her mood swiftly changed as she giggled at her father’s pained expression. She grinned widely, exposing the two front teeth that had recently sprouted from her gums.

“Carefully, husband, or you may lose a finger,” you tease.

The man shot you a playful glare before lecturing the child on biting. However, it only seemed to make the child giggle even more.

“Now, Daenys, what have we said about the biting? You do not bite kepa. Save that for your uncle.” 

You rolled your eyes at his childishness. 

“Do you want me to take her?” You asked. “There’s no use in both of us being exhausted.”

“No, you get some rest,” he replied absent-mindedly.

Aemond kept his gaze on your little girl. A giddy smile sat on his lips as Daenys crawled up his chest. He took hold of one of her chubby little hands, holding it to his mouth, pretending to eat it. She squealed, pulling it away before holding it out for him to take again.

You smiled and rested your head on the soft feather pillow beneath you, watching as the two people most dear to your heart played together. It was such a heartwarming sight. You fought to keep your eyes open, but sleep had won.

[josephandrewstarkey]

beach fight - part 3

part 1 - part 2

warnings: MDNI!! smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering, car sex, dirty talk, kind of public,

disclaimer: lowk giggled while writing this 🤣

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

Y/N woke up early the next morning, sunlight creeping in through the curtains. She blinked, trying to remember where she was. Slowly, the events of the previous night came flooding back—sneaking off with Rafe to his house, the heat between them, his hands all over her.

Her heart raced as regret settled deep in her chest. She never meant for this to happen again. She glanced over at Rafe, still asleep beside her, looking peaceful and unaware. Quietly, she slipped out of the bed, trying not to wake him. She hurriedly gathered her clothes, slipping into her shorts and shoes, but her shirt was nowhere to be found.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, looking around the room.

Her eyes landed on one of Rafe’s oversized shirts, a faded old tee she used to steal from him back when they were together. It was her favorite, and the memories stung her as she pulled it over her head. She gave one last glance at Rafe, who was still asleep, then snuck out of his house and headed straight for the Chateau.

When she got there, the Pogues were already up, hanging out outside. Sarah, Kie, Pope, Cleo, and JJ all stared at her as she walked in, clearly curious about her disappearing act from last night.

“Where were you?” Sarah asked, eyebrow raised.

Y/N tried to play it off, shrugging. “Out.”

JJ wasn’t letting it slide that easily, though. He smirked, eyeing her shirt. “Whose shirt is that?” knowing damn well who it belonged to.

Y/N stuttered, her brain scrambling for an excuse. “I…uh, I spent the night with some cute guy, okay? Stole his shirt,” she said quickly, hoping it would shut them up.

But Sarah wasn’t convinced. She squinted at the shirt, recognition flashing in her eyes. “Isn’t that Rafe’s shirt?”

Y/N froze for a second but quickly covered it up with a laugh. “No, you’re imagining things.”

Before Sarah could press further, the conversation shifted as they decided to take their new boat out for a ride. Y/N was grateful for the distraction, needing to clear her head. The boat was a breath of fresh air, the sea breeze whipping through her hair as they sailed around. She was wearing a black bikini and sunglasses, hoping the day on the water would wash away her guilt.

Everything seemed fine—until Topper’s boat sailed up beside them. Onboard was Rafe, Sofia, and the rest of their Kook crew. Y/N’s heart raced as Rafe’s eyes immediately found hers. His gaze was intense, trailing over her body like he couldn’t help himself. She saw Sofia clinging to him, clearly aware of what had happened between them. Sofia’s glare was sharp, her hands gripping onto Rafe like she owned him.

Y/N looked away, pretending not to care, but she couldn’t help the smirk forming on her lips. She caught Rafe glancing at her again, his eyes lingering on her bikini-clad body, especially her ass. He didn’t know she could see him staring, and something about it made her feel powerful.

Meanwhile, the Pogues and Topper’s crew were arguing about something trivial, but Y/N and Rafe’s silent exchange felt louder than anything around them. When the two boats sailed in opposite directions, Y/N looked back one last time, catching Rafe’s eyes before they disappeared out of sight.

Later that day, Y/N had to head to work at a local bar in the OBX. It was just another shift until she heard a small cough behind her. She turned around, and her stomach dropped. Sofia stood there, looking smug.

“Can I help you?” Y/N asked, trying to act normal.

Sofia didn’t order anything. Instead, she got straight to the point. “I know what you did with my boyfriend last night.”

Y/N’s heart pounded, but she kept her cool. She turned around slowly, trying not to let Sofia see her stress. “Do you?” she replied casually, wiping down the counter.

Sofia stepped closer, her voice cold as ice. “Stay away from him, or you’ll regret it.”

Y/N chuckled at her empty threat. “Sure.” she said, grabbing Rafe’s shirt from behind the counter and holding it out. “Oh, but can you give this to Rafe? Tell him I had an amazing time last night. Although, I barely managed to walk this morning.”

Sofia’s face twisted with fury, her hands trembling as she snatched the shirt from Y/N. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, ready to snap, but instead, she stormed out of the bar. Y/N leaned against the counter, laughing under her breath.

ꨄ

A few hours later, while still at work, Y/N’s phone buzzed with messages from an unknown number. At first, she ignored them, but curiosity got the best of her. She opened the texts to see it was Rafe, attacking her for telling Sofia what happened blablabla

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the messages, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. She left him on read, refusing to engage. She had no regrets about throwing it in Sofia’s face. The rest of the night was busy, but as it neared midnight, Y/N started to close up the bar.

Just as she was about to lock the door, she heard the rumble of a truck pulling up outside. Her heart sank when she saw Rafe’s figure stepping out of the truck, heading straight toward her. Before she could react, a pair of strong hands grabbed her and yanked her back, pulling her away from the door. She struggled for a moment, but the grip was too strong.

“Rafe, what the hell?” she snapped, turning around and slapping him across the face.

He didn’t even flinch.“Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“Because I don’t owe you anything,” she shot back, glaring at him. Why do you care? It’s not like we’re together.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Why’d you leave without telling me?”

“Because i regret everything that happened last night Rafe.”

Rafe stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. “No, you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Y/N insisted, crossing her arms. “It was a mistake.”

There was a tense silence between them before Rafe suddenly grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward his car. “Alright, let’s see if you’ll regret this.”he muttered, his voice dark as he opened the backseat door and pushed her inside.

Before Y/N could protest, Rafe climbed in after her, his hands already on her, lips brushing against her neck. His dominance sent a shiver through her, and despite her words, she found herself kissing him back. It was rough, intense, the kind of heat she couldn’t ignore.

They tore at each other’s clothes, their desire taking over. Rafe’s hands roamed over her body, pulling her closer as he whispered dirty words into her ear, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her. He kissed her hard, taking control as they lost themselves in each other, the backseat quickly becoming their own heated world.

Breaking the kiss, Rafe tore at her blouse, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons at the back. The fabric slid down her body, pooling at her waist, revealing her bare skin and a lacy black bra that barely contained her full breasts. He cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her hardened nipples, making her arch into his touch.

"You regret this, huh?," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of anticipation and submission. She wanted him, craved the dominance he exuded, and was eager to surrender to his desires.

Rafe's hands moved lower, sliding beneath the lace of her panties, his fingers finding her wetness. He stroked her slick folds, circling her clit, making her gasp and squirm against him. Her juices coated his fingers, proof of her arousal and eagerness.

"So wet for me," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Thought you made a mistake.”

Y/N could only nod, her mouth dry as her body throbbed with need. Rafe's fingers continued their torment, pushing inside her, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come.

"Please," she begged, her voice hoarse.

Rafe unzipped his jeans, freeing his thick cock. He positioned himself at her entrance, his tip nudging her wetness. With a single, powerful thrust, he impaled her, filling her in one smooth motion. Y/N cried out, her body accommodating his size as he plunged deep.

"Fuck" he grunted, his hands gripping her thighs as he began to move.

Rafe set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward, driving into her again and again. The car rocked with the force of his thrusts, the backseat creaking in protest. Y/N's hands clawed at his back, her nails digging into his skin as she matched his rhythm, meeting each thrust with abandon.

"Harder," she panted, her voice laced with pleasure and pain.

Rafe obliged, his hands gripping her hips tightly, lifting her up to meet his downward strokes. He slammed into her. Y/N's moans filled the car, a mix of pleasure and raw need. Her body trembled, on the edge of release, as Rafe pounded into her relentlessly.

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing within her. Y/N clenched around him. She cried out, her back arching, her nails drawing blood from his shoulders as she came.

They stayed joined for a moment, breathing heavily, their hearts racing. Rafe's cock twitched inside her, still sensitive from his release, as he slowly withdrew.

Y/N smiled, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. "Maybe i didn’t regret it after all.” she whispered, her fingers tracing the contours of his face.

Rafe grinned, his dominance softening as he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her. “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

After a few moments Y/N sits up, breathless, adjusting her clothes. She quickly pulls on her pants and begins fixing her hair, but Rafe watches her with a furrowed brow.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, voice still rough from their encounter. His eyes flicker to the door, clearly not wanting her to leave.

“Home,” Y/N replies, not looking at him as she buttons her shirt. Her hands are shaky, but she tries to keep it together.

“No, you’re not,” Rafe says, his tone firm, as if that was the final word on the matter. He reaches out, grabs her wrist, and pulls her back towards him.

Y/N frowns, tugging her hand away, but Rafe’s grip is strong. “Rafe, I need to go,” she insists, but he’s already pulling her out of the car and heading to the house, guiding her by the waist.

“You’re coming with me,” Rafe mutters, and she doesn’t have the energy to argue. A part of her doesn’t even want to, but her mind is racing—after everything, after the regrets, after Sofia’s confrontation at the bar, what was she still doing with him?

They sneak inside quietly, the darkness of the house wrapping around them like a blanket. Everyone is asleep, and the only sound is the faint creak of the wooden floor beneath their feet. As soon as they reach the hallway, Rafe’s lips are on hers again, like he can’t get enough. Y/N kisses him back, letting herself get lost in it, her mind spinning. She’s supposed to be mad at him, supposed to be done with this, but there’s something about him she can’t resist.

Their hands fumble with each other as they make their way to his room, tripping over themselves, barely breaking the kiss. Rafe’s hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer as they stumble, giggling softly, trying to stay quiet.

Just as they reach his room, Rafe pushes the door open without looking. They fall through, still kissing, his hands exploring her body like he’s starved for her. Y/N lets out a soft sigh against his lips, but then they both freeze. Something’s off.

The light. It’s on.

Their eyes fly open at the same time, lips parting as they realize they’re not alone. Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at them with wide, furious eyes, is Sofia.

part 4 here

taglist:

@thepopcultureaddict @esquivelbianca @carolina6677 @lovrsin @alayaaaahhhhhh @rrosiitas @izurelia

[seonghwaddict]

the best of the best — jeong yunho

in which yunho didn’t expect his tiring shift to end with fucking the prettiest girl who’s ever walked into the clinic.

ripperdoc!jeong yunho x fem!reader. genre. smut. cyberpunk 2077 au. warnings. non-sexual use of daddy, explicit sexual content mdni, big dick!yunho but what else is new, fingering, BACKSHOTS, yunho is a tease, implied voice kink, creampie, he gets a little rough, nicknames (pretty, baby, princess). wc. 2.5k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this is really REALLY rushed because i was hit with inspiration and started writing without actually stopping so like sorry if it’s ass lol. her cyberware is based on this.

DEFINITIONS. ripperdoc; medical practitioners that can install cybernetic prostheses, called cyberware // eddies; game currency. feel free to ask for any clarifications.

listening to. cyberpunk, ateez (duh).

masterlist.

yunho sighed as he threw a bloodied towel into the sink, hands finally clean after having installed some new cyberware on a customer. his day was spent operating edgerunners, never quite seeming to catch a break. but what else could he do as the best ripperdoc in the district, let alone this shithole of a clinic? besides, he somewhat liked his job and the pay was good, his way with words getting customers to give him a few more eddies than they were obliged to.

but, alas, it was finally closing time and he’d no longer have to deal with people until the next day. or at least that’s what he hoped.

the familiar sound of the clinic’s door rang through the lobby, singaling someone had entered before he could lock up and making him sigh in exasperation. he pinched the bride of his nose, calling out over his shoulder from the backroom, knowing whoever it was would still be able to hear him. “we’re closed, come back tomorrow!”

“please, it’s an emergency!” the person replied and he froze.

a desperate, feminine plea. yunho can’t say he’s used to hearing that tone in the clinic. with furrowed brows, he emerged from the backroom to the lobby, right behind the counter as he laid his eyes on you. he was obviously much taller than you, looking up at him with round doe eyes and softly flushed cheeks. you wore a short black skirt and a loose sweater; not a sight he was used to here either, not that he was complaining as his eyes momentarily flickered to the sliver of cleavage exposed by the low neckline. maybe he could make an exception… no. he wanted nothing more than to go home, and a pretty little thing like you couldn’t just magically change his mood.

“my ‘ware has been acting up and i heard this is the best clinic in the area,” you walked closer to the counter, one of the steps looking particularly painful as you winced mid-sentence and stumbled before continuing, “please, sir, i promise i’ll pay you well.”

he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, letting a beat of silence wash over you before he finally answered with a sigh, “fine. go through that curtain and wait on the table. the metal one.”

you followed his hand to see him pointing at a curtain much like the ones separating beds in hospitals. with a quiet nod, you shuffled over as he ducked through the door he previously came out of. there was a small space behind the curtain and it reeked of hand sanitiser as you sat down, the table cold against your thighs. you smoothed your skirt down as he walked through the curtain and set down a tray of tools on a desk pushed against the wall.

“so, where’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his arms and giving you a once-over that had you feeling a little nervous.

“my back,” you muttered, looking down at your hands shyly as they played with the hem of your sweater, “i’ll have to take this off, if that’s okay.”

“oh, um…” he blinked before nodding and clearing his throat, moving to stand behind you. “yeah, it’s fine, go ahead.”

after a moment of hesitation, your body stretched lightly as you pulled the shirt over your head, his jaw nearly dropping at the sight. an intricately designed thin silver chrome spine merged with your skin and extending from between your shoulderblades down to just above your ass. instinctively, he reached out and brushed his fingers down the length of it, biting his bottom lip as he caught the way your back arched slightly.

“god, you’re a masterpiece.” he couldn’t help but sigh out as he let his fingertips explore the metal and the skin surrounding it. the clasp of your bra covered up just a little bit of it, but there was plenty more to see. after a moment, he caught a glimpse of a little spark in the metal on the small of your back, humming. “i see the problem… must be some sloppy wiring. i’ll take care of you, baby, just relax and stay still. you can do that for me, can’t you?”

“y-yeah.” you practically squeaked out, mentally slapping yourself for making it obvious how his words and touches made you feel.

he grinned but didn’t say anything, reaching for his tools and beginning to work. as he did, he deliberately brushed his fingertips or his wrist against your skin, against anywhere he could reach while fixing the wiring between the blades of the metal spine, just because he enjoyed messing wiht you. your waist seemed to get the most reactions out of you, unable to hold back your hitched breaths and your thighs pressing together. you were so sensitive and sweet, trying to hold back all your sounds as he riled you up with teasingly calculated touches.

“how’d you pay for this, anyway? a mod like this must’ve cost a fortune.”

“my daddy paid for it,” you explained with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting something like this for forever, so he let me get it done on my 18th birthday.”

he raised his eyebrows in surprise, nodding with a soft smile. “well, baby, you must be daddy’s pride and joy if he’s willing to drop so much on an implant like this that does nothing but make you look that much more appealing.”

“appealing?” you echoed his description of you, glancing back at him over your shoulder, “you think so?”

“of course, i’m not blind,” he roles his eyes playfully, licking eyes with you before going back to work, “in fact, i’m jealous i wasn’t the one to install all this ‘ware.”

it didn’t help that as he talked, his breath fanned over the back of your neck since he adjusted the table to raise you higher for him to work more comfortably. you learned each other’s names as he talked you through the procedure, trying to distract you from the occasional prods of a needle and sparks of the wires. he also liked to watch goosebumps form on your skin and the way your back arched just a little more as he responded to your words with low hums or muttered acknowledgments.

his hands feel a little colder than your skin as he barely runs them down your back, eyes trained on the gleaming metal. the tips of his fingers momentarily dipped below the back of your bra before slipping out again.

“does anything hurt?” he asked quietly, in a tone he noticed always made you stutter a little.

“n-no.” you shook your head before holding your breath, feeling his hands covers your waist and move down slowly, holding your hips lightly.

“good.” he hummed, nodding and removing his hands before stepping away from you completely.

the loss of his hands made your brows furrow as you looked at him, stepping into your line of vision with his back turned to you as he put away his tools.

“did you need something, princess?” he tilted his head at the sight of the pout you were trying so hard to hide, voice taking on a mocking tone.

your cheeks warmed and your brain short-circuited as he took a step toward the metal table he sat you on, standing a breath away from your knees and leaning down to your eye level. his hands braced on the table of either sides of your hips. if he wanted to, he could lean forward just a few inches and his lips would finally press against yours.

“you.” you blurted out without thinking, unable to process any thoughts in the flustered state he put you in.

“me, huh?” yunho chuckled, silky and low, fingertips brushing against the hem of your skirt as he pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at you. “a ripperdoc like me who works in heywood fixing cyberware? you need me, baby?”

flustered and a little speechless, you could only nod, lips parted as you left out soft breaths and looked up at him with eyes that begged him to kiss you. his hands left your skirt but found you again quickly, one on your waist and the other cupping the side of your face, half of his hand buried in your hair as he leaned down and finally pressed his lips against yours.

a whimper made it past you as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth, mingling with yours and exploring. you felt him smile against your lips as you let out that sound, his fingers in your hair holding you a little tighter as his hand on your waist slid down your thigh. you, however, didn’t feel that hand moving until his fingers pressed against your soaked panties, somehow easily finding your clit through the fabric and eliciting a whine as he pulled his lips away from you.

“so wet and i’ve barely done anything.” he whispered, kissing you again as he nudged the fabric aside to run two digits through your folds, quiet squelching sounds mixing with your little moans and whimpers as he circled your clit excruciatingly slowly.

not expecting his hands to feel so good, you couldn’t stop your hips from squirming, unable to kiss back very skilfully. he circled your clit with just the right speed and pressure, keeping you restless as your pussy clenched around nothing and click slowly dripped out to smear against the table and inner thighs.

yunho gave your swollen nub a sudden pinch and you winced, your hands on his biceps clenching as he pulled away from you with a click of his tongue. “didn’t i tell you to stay still, princess?”

you parted your lips to respond but could only moan languidly as his fingers easily pushed themselves into you, crooking and perfectly prodding against your sweet spot.

“do my fingers feel too good? is it too much for you, pretty?” he mocked with a fake pout, drawing his fingers out before pushing back in. you felt his hand drop from your hair to reach for something and with a push of a button, the table lowered itself smoothly.

moments later you were on your knees, facing away from him, hips pulled up and chest pushed down. some time while he moved you to this position, he managed to remove your skirt and bra. your nipples brushed against the cold surface of the table, shuddering at the feeling combined with one of his hands kneading your ass intently while the other ran down the length of your spine. as he got to the small of your back, he pushed down a little harder, making your back arch.

“hm, so pretty and perfect,” he hummed as his clothes and very much erected cock pressed against your flushed core. you let out a broken whine, burying your face into your forearm comfortably, his fingers sliding through your folds again and spreading them apart. he groaned at the sight, your wetness glistening in the neon lighting of the clinic, spread between your thighs messily, needy hole fluttering.

when he finally pressed his tip into you and eased his way in, your breath hitched followed by a moan of his name, hands clenching as you pushed back against him. he steadied your hips with his hands, eyes rolling back from your tightness as he bottomed out and stilled to revel in the feeling if you wrapped around him for a moment.

butterflies roared in your stomach as he leaned down and kissed the top of your spine sloppily, pulling out before rolling his hips against yours. you weren’t used to this angle, especially not with someone as huge as him, but your embarrassing amount of arousal made it easy for him to move. you cursed softly, a string of whines and moans falling from your swollen lips as his fingers dug into your hips and his teeth explored your upper back, licking and sucking and biting marks into your skin.

“f-fuck, you feel s-so good.” he moaned, forehead dropped between your shoulder blades for a moment before he straightened up again, pulling your hips against his harshly as he thrusted into you, teeth sunk in his bottom lip.

not long after that you felt a knot quickly tightening in your abdomen, feeling your breath knocked out of your lungs with each snap of his hips. one of his arms wrapped around your waist before venturing lowers so he could rub at your clit quickly, the knot drawing tighter and tighter until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“y-yunho- i’m g-gonna-“

“let go, baby. go on, be a good girl and cum for me,” he cut you off, voice gentle despite his rough movements, snapping the waistband of your panties against you, “you’ll cum for me, won’t you? i’m making you– fuck, i’m making you feel so good, right? p-please cum, baby, just let go.”

his words egged you on and soon enough you did as he said, shuddering and clenching and squealing as you came all over his cock, your juices drooling down his length as he continued pounding into you. his hand left your clit to grab your hips tightly, chasing his own high now that you finished. knowing what he needed, you clenched around him rhythmically, whimpering softly because you knew he liked the sound.

without warning, he spilled himself inside you, filling you up with his hot release. your combined panting and shivers filled the area as he emptied himself. once he collected himself, he pulled out slowly, shuddering as he did so before tucking your panties back into place before his cum could seep out of you. he flipped you around easily and found your lips.

you kissed each other lazily for a while, mind foggy after your orgasms. you gasped against his lips softly as you felt his fingers press right on the fabric covering your hole.

“if you can keep everything in while i close up, i’ll take you to my place for another round… or maybe a few more,” he kissed your cheek, reaching to the side and giving you your clothes before tucking himself back into his pants, “if you’re up for it, of course.”

you giggled, also kissing his cheek in return. “i’d like that, actually. you have a really good dick.”

“is that so? good thing a pretty girl like you only deserves the best.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[ellecdc]

elle, my love. my darling. could I be the biggest pest and request maybe something with our beloved barty jr? like maybe you know of him but don’t really know him but someone is bugging you at a party and you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend and he plays the role just a little too well?

Ilysm darling 🖤

for you, sab? anything

Barty Crouch Junior x fem!reader who asks him to pretend to be her boyfriend

CW: harassment - a guy won't leave reader alone at a bar, drinking/bar culture, there is perhaps one sentence that is sort of explicit but the rest is PG and then fades to black

You had tried everything to shake this guy off of you; from polite no thank you’s, to hiding in the loo, to pretending not to notice when he was standing right beside you. You had even attempted the tried-and-true “I have a boyfriend”, to which he simply replied “I don’t see him anywhere”. 

You were soon going to resort to a well-timed uppercut, and though you did think the man deserved a good fist to the nose, you weren’t quite willing to resort to violence - yet. 

You were ducking behind raised arms and navigating around bodies in an attempt to rid yourself of your tormentor when salvation came in the form of an unlikely classmate.

“Junior!” You whisper shouted - a name you heard many of his friends refer to him as - as you slid in between him and the bar he was lazily sat at; if you could call what he was doing sitting. He was perched, possibly less than half of each arse cheek actually on the stool, with both of his legs splayed out in a way that would get anyone else punched in the teeth for daring to take up so much room at a bar, but he blended in like he was simply part of the decor. 

“Do I know you, sugar?” He drawled from the rim of his cup; green eyes scrutinizing you though he seemed no less pleased by your proximity due to his unfamiliarity with you. 

“I- sorry, we have statistics together?”

Barty simply swallowed his sip and continued staring at you.

“Mondays and Wednesdays? 1:30 to 3:00?” You clarified. 

He blinked slowly at that.

“With Professor Flitwick.”

“Yeah, yeah; third row from the back, prefers taking handwritten notes but insists on hauling your laptop ‘round with you too which acts as no more than a glorified paperweight. You have a fuzzy jumper that you wear almost everywhere.” 

“I- well…yeah?”

“Right, so how does that bring us here?” He continued as if you had been the one making this conversation particularly difficult. 

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” You blurted.

“Okay.” Barty agreed readily with a shrug as he placed his now empty cup on the bar. “Why?”

Stunned somewhat stupid by his willingness, you suddenly remembered that you had someone pursuing you. 

“There’s this bloke-”

“Which bloke?” He cut you off, sliding one of his legs between both of yours before pulling you towards him so you were just about straddling his thigh. 

In an attempt to hide your blush at Barty’s blaseness, and what you would later tell yourself was you simply trying to lean into the part of girlfriend, you nuzzled into Barty’s side to purvey the surrounding crowd. 

“That guy there, with the beanie.” You whispered into his ear as you gestured towards the guy; swallowing the surprised yelp that threatened to escape your lips when you felt Barty’s possessive protective arm tighten around your middle. 

“Well…” Barty murmured quietly, turning his chin back towards you; his lips hovering just over your collarbone. “That just won’t do, will it?”

You shook your head quickly, ignoring the racing of your heart, the way that the bass vibrated through your core, or the heat that was beginning to pool inside of you as he propped up his knee so that you were now officially straddling his thigh.

“Has he been bugging you, doll?” He asked lowly then, bringing his hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your waist to push a lock of hair away from your face. 

“He won’t leave me alone.” You whispered; finding yourself embarrassingly close to tears for the first time all night, simply because some random guy who showed up to perhaps half of your shared statistics classes (though he somehow still had perfect scores) was offering you his protection.

A sympathetic dent in between Barty’s eyebrows formed at your words as he pouted at you. “My poor girl.” He all but purred as he brought his face mere millimeters away from yours before bumping his nose to your own. “How do you want this to go?” He whispered.

“Whichever way it needs to so that he’ll leave me alone.”

Apparently not needing any further directions, Barty slotted your lips together with an intensity that had your head ringing as he pulled you higher up onto his lap; body’s so close you were almost certain you could feel his heartbeat in your own chest. 

His hand that was wrapped around your waist started to slide up the back of your shirt where he rubbed the skin of your lower back, as the other rested just under your jaw, his touch far softer and more delicate than the way in which he kissed you.

You leaned further into him, whimpering at the sensation of your core sliding tantalizingly against his denim pants; the thin satiny material of your panties no match for the electricity of feeling so wholly consumed by Barty Crouch Junior.

You’d almost forgotten this was all a ruse when Barty abruptly pulled away from you.

“Oi! You got a fuckin’ problem?” He shouted at your stalker, garnering the attention of a few bar patrons around you.

You sunk impossibly further into Barty’s side at the attention, and relished in the gentle strokes he brushed at the skin of your hip in response. 

“Is there a problem?” One of the bartenders barked then; looking a certain brand of intense you supposed was likely part of the training to be a bartender at a club in a college town. 

“This tosser’s been bothering my girl all night.” Barty responded simply, weaseling his other arm around your middle as he returned his attention back to you. “You okay, sugar?” 

You nodded at him and rested your forehead against his as you let out a steadying breath. “Thank you.”

Barty snorted at that. “‘Course, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t look out for my girl, hm?” 

You chuckled breathlessly before smiling softly at him, noticing that he was doing the same as his emerald gaze darted between your eyes.

“Wanna get out of here?” He whispered as he dared to inch his hand further up your back.

God, did you ever.

[pseudowho]

"Why are we going to a scare trail, when you scream if a pan falls out of the cupboard?"

Kento grumbled, cosy in his cream turtleneck and teal overcoat. You preened, pressing the lids onto your travel mugs, and leaning up to nuzzle the shell of his ear.

"Because it's fun, you grumpy old goat. Come on. I need protection."

"You need sectioning, perhaps," Kento scoffed, opening the car door for you, "or the public needs protection from you." Kento shifted into gear, reversing with his arm behind your seat. You stroked a hand over his thigh.

"Well, you can be my supervisor then...sir."

Kento coughed, stalling the car at the turn, and grasping your hand with a warning glare.

"Don't. You know what that does to me."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Clearly, the gates of hell had been opened into the other end of the Funfair. The screams were not ones of delight.

But, at the entrance, autumn leafcrunch and early chill, swirled with wood fires and yakitori and street food, spicing the crowds with orange and gold. You tucked your arm into Kento's, as if an old married couple, and squelched through the mud to your destination.

Kento grimaced up at the entrance, opening his mouth to speak, before you interrupted.

"I heard they used pig's blood. Not fake blood."

"That is grotesquely unsanitary--"

"--come on, let's queue up--"

"--I should report them to the Health and Safety executives--"

"Shhh, sh sh sh, come on now...there. Lovely."

Bouncing on your tiptoes in the queue, Kento shot you a wary sideways glance, speaking slowly, testing every word.

"I...am perfectly serious, though. You don't usually tolerate frights like this very well. Despite your profession. Always something I found...odd."

You sighed, shrugging. "Just...an overactive imagination, I think. There's something thrilling about being scared but safe. A luxury that work doesn't give us."

Kento was quiet, looking pensively into the Horror Maze, while you allowed a zombie bride to scan your entry passes. "Yes...that makes sense."

Kento was absolutely right, as you headed in. Within minutes, you were rendered useless, in a maze of bloodstained walls and cells-- some crude, tasteless attempt at an insane asylum.

And Kento remained...utterly unshaken. Not a hair out of place. Not even a flinch. Just his usual flat boredom, and irritated rumbles.

'Patients', 'doctors', 'nurses' and 'orderlies' in various states of grisly disrepair, chased you through corridors, backed you into cells, and rattled bars at you until you clung to Kento like a baby monkey.

Neither of you noticed how one of the doctors you passed turned to look at your retreating backs, tufts of fuzzy peach hair peeking out from under his surgical cap and goggles.

"Does nothing scare you?!" You demanded of Kento, squealing like a little girl as a 'doctor' tried to strap you to his table. Lifting you to safety by your waist, and tutting at the perturbed 'doctor', who sagged, put-out, Kento replied, solemn.

"Perhaps my fears are a little more abstract." You almost laughed as an approaching 'nurse' cringed away at Kento's devastatingly withering look.

It was only when you were both chased through a corridor by a horde of screaming visitors and 'patients', that you and Kento became separated. Your adrenaline felt less fun with Kento's absence, and you backed against a black curtain, your heart pumping rapidly souring blood to your limbs.

"Kento!" You called, your voice pitched and rising, "Kent--ooooooh!"

You were yanked back through the black curtain, your sobs muffled beneath a thick brown glove, and your assailant was quick to reassure you. He lifted his goggles and lowered his mask to grin at you, sweet and sunny.

"Hey! Mrs.Nanamin! It's just me."

You melted with relief, sniffling, "Oh my god-- Yuuji-- what are you doing here--"

"Ahhh, just tryna earn some extra cash. I saw where Nanamin went, want to go catch u--"

"No! Wait...Yuuji. Help me scare him."

Yuuji faltered, blinking. "What? Scare Nanamin?" Yuuji pondered, pinching his chin in thought. Eventually, he shook his head, smirking. "Nah. Nothing scares him."

You puffed your cheeks out, shaking your head. Peeking out from behind the curtain and surveying the carnage the actors wreaked upon the screaming visitors, you shook your head.

"Nope. I insist. Let's scare my husband. We'll find something-- anything."

And so, at your insistence, you and Yuuji staggered through a montage of terrific failures.

You locked Kento in a dark room, and he only hummed in minor irritation as a hissing, ragged contortionist spidered out of an impossibly tight chest. He kicked the door open, and held it open for the bewildered contortionist to leave first; "After you."

Yuuji manipulated Kento down a corridor with naught but increasingly unsettling nursery rhymes and crayon monstrosities on the walls. Kento found the radio, switched it off, and gave the crayon-marked wallpaper a despairing side-eye. He tried to scratch some crayon off, grimacing in dismay.

You encouraged a 'nurse' to spill a bag of 'blood' over Kento; he performed exquisite manoeuvres to save his coat, before sternly berating her-- "I'd rather not explain that to the dry cleaners, thank you."

Eventually, leaning back on a rickety wooden railing on a platform above the exit, you and Yuuji admitted defeat. Yuuji rubbed your shoulder in sweet conciliation.

"I told you," Yuuji sighed, as if you didn't already know, "Nanamin just isn't scared of anything."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I just--"

The crack of the rail breaking behind you and Yuuji pierced the night, and you plummeted to the ground below, the air punching out of your lungs. Coughing, groaning, and dazed, you barely registered Kento calling your name, and calling your name, and CALLING YOUR NAME--

"--shit--" Kento swore, pale, and checking your head, and your eyes, and your body, and your eyes, and cupping your cheeks and surveying you for hurt or damage or injury, "--shit, are you hurt? Say something-- say something--"

You coughed, flapping a hand, saved by your Cursed Energy. "Fine, Kento, I'm fine--"

"-- jesus christ...you scared me."

You blinked up at him, feeling like the worst wife in the world. "I...scared you?"

Kento wasn't listening, still feeling your body all over in pale concentration. Yuuji sat up beside you, watching from beneath his goggles, cap and mask. He opened his mouth to speak, and Kento did not look up, but raised a single stern finger to point at him.

"Not a word, Itadori-kun. You scared me too."

[kenjisatos]

MSBY BLACK JACKALS READ THIRST TWEETS ! (SAKUSA EDITION)

will probably make this a series. i just love this team so darn much *sigh*

[atsumu version]

this fic features…

haikyuu timeskip!spoilers, highly suggestive content (as the title entails), inappropriate language, sus atsumu 🤨, genre: crack, some of these are actual tweets i found lol.

Set the scene: the MSBY quartet shuffle into frame, they each take their seat in front of the iconic blue backdrop. You hear Hinata and Bokuto exchanging lively words, Atsumu fixing his hair so it swooshes the right way, and Sakusa removing his face mask and handing it to their team’s pr manager who accompanied them to this shoot.

“Is one of us gonna say it or are we all gonna say it together?” Hinata asks, looking at his teammates.

“I think we should all say it,” Atsumu replies, to which Sakusa nods in agreement.

Bokuto claps his hands together, getting excited. “Let’s do this!”

- cut scene -

“Hi, we’re the MSBY Black Jackals and we’re here with Buzzfeed to read your thirst tweets!” They say in unison.

Bokuto makes a jazz hands gesture, “Sakusa Kiyoomi edition~” he sings, as Hinata bounces in his chair and Atsumu slaps Sakusa’s back in an attempt to hype up the outside hitter.

Sakusa sighs and lets out a defeated chuckle, “Lord, help me…”

- cut scene -

The crew tosses Sakusa a phone, he catches it easily and takes a deep breath before reading.

“I need MSBY’s #15 to bend that flexible hand inside my bussy. Please and thank you.”

Sakusa quirks a confused brow, “What’s a bussy?”

Atsumu snickers. Hinata smiles, “Well, at least we know Omi-kun isn’t chronically online.”

Bokuto puts an arm around Sakusa’s chair, knowing better than to drape it around him or else he’d throw a cold glare his way. “I told you to get on Tiktok, Omi.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, “I am not getting that dancing app, Bokuto.”

Bokuto’s lips funnel into a pout, “Then how are you gonna learn the language of the people?”

“What, like bussy?”

Atsumu childishly laughs again. “Haha…bussy…”

Sakusa tsks, “Are you gonna tell me what it is already or what?”

Hinata sighs and puts his hands together, “I am sorry to tell you this, Omi-kun, but it means—“

“Butt pussy!” Atsumu blurts out, unable to hold it in any longer. “Like a boy’s pussy, Omi-Omi. Get it?”

Sakusa’s expression is one that makes it look like he was in physical pain, which he might as well be in at the moment. He side eyes Bokuto, “That’s the so-called language of your people?”

“It’s funnier when Miya isn’t combusting.”

Sakusa sighs, “I’m not using that word, let alone using my flexible wrists for it.” He says before he passes the phone to Hinata, who reads the next tweet:

“Dear Sakusa Kiyoomi, *taps mic and clears throat* NO LUBE, NO PROTECTION, ALL NIGHT, ALL DAY, FROM THE KITCHEN FLOOR TO THE BATHROOM SINK, FROM THE DINING TABLE TO THE BEDROOM—“

Hinata lowers the phone and says, “That’s it. That’s the tweet.”

Atsumu wolf whistles and Bokuto hoots while shaking his head. Hinata is biting his thumb, trying NOT to burst out in laughter.

Sakusa blinks once, twice, before speaking up. “That’s…wow that sounds filthy.”

Atsumu barks with laughter, “Literally!”

Sakusa’s eyes widen in horror, “The bathroom?? Seriously? I get the other places, but really? The dirty bath—“

Bokuto intervenes, “Woah woah there Omi, you get the other places?”

Hinata snickers, “You hiding your freaky side from us, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa groans, dragging his hands over his face. “Please, let’s not discuss this on Youtube dot com”. He recovers and clears his throat, looking right at the camera, “Make wise choices, censored user.”

Hinata passes the phone to Atsumu. The blond setter chuckles before he even reads it out loud, Sakusa already feels the dread awaiting him.

“It’s the broad shoulders and tiny waist and the compression sleeves and the undershirt and the butt and that neck and those curls and his eyes,” Atsumu reads through breathless laughter.

He turns the phone around so that his teammates can see the screen, “And then, they attached a screenshot from a manga that simply transcribes ‘cock sucking noises’!” He wheezes, nearly dropping the phone.

Bokuto’s mouth hangs open but no noise comes out as he struggles to catch his breath, leaning his weight into Atsumu who is just as equally—if not more—cracked than he is. Hinata is busy hiding his face with his hands as he laughs, nearly folding himself up from how far he’s leaning down from his seat. Sakusa is watching his teammates loss their minds as he begins to question his life choices that led him to this moment.

Sakusa sighs, “There will be no cock sucking noises, but thank you for the compliment.”

Atsumu begins to recover, “Oh man…” he wipes a tear, “Omi-Omi, stand up and let ‘em see that slutty waist of yours.”

Sakusa shoots Atsumu a deadly look. Bokuto cheers to encourage Sakusa, while Hinata can’t help but glance at Sakusa’s waist.

“Allow me to correct myself; there will be no cock sucking noises nor will there be any showing offs of the slutty waist.”

Atsumu and Bokuto boo, Sakusa rolls his eyes at their reaction. Hinata winks at the camera, “But there will be some slutty waists in next week’s Calvin Klein feature that Sakusa did.”

Sakusa hums, “Yeah, so save those thoughts until then.”

Atsumu passes the phone back to Bokuto, who mumbles: “C’mon give me a good one…”

Bokuto clears his throat, “Sakusa Kiyoomi might be an outside hitter for MSBY, but i need him to be an INSIDE HITTER for this pus—“, he turns to the camera, “They cut themselves off there.”

Sakusa winces at those words. Hinata laughs, “I like the play on words.”

Sakusa adjusts his posture, “That would be very painful, no?”

Atsumu clarifies, “I think that’s what they want, Omi-Omi.”

Bokuto rubs his chin in thought, “Sakusa hits spikes pretty hard…I can’t imagine how hard he could go inside user-san’s—“

Sakusa waves his hand panickedly, “Please don’t finish that sentence.” He glances at their pr manager, who—by some unexplainable miracle—hasn’t said anything so far.

Sakusa clears his throat, “Unless the pay is higher, I will not be changing my position to your inside hitter, sorry. Actually, I lied; I am not sorry.”

The phone gets passed back to Sakusa, “Sakusa Kiyoomi has 47 moles and I intend to suck each and every one of them off his body.”

Hinata giggles mischievously, “Miya-san, did you write that?”

“I DID NOT WRITE THAT!”

Bokuto cackles, “How else did the user know the exact amount of moles on Sakusa’s body? You’re the one that’s always staring at each of us in the locker room.”

“WE DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THAT NUMBER IS ACCURATE!!”

Sakusa speaks up calmly, “It is accurate, actually.”

Atsumu goes pale at his words, “O-oh okay…but that doesn’t mean I wrote it!!!”

Sakusa disguises a laugh as a cough, “As much as I love to pick on Miya—“

“HEY!”

“—I’m still impressed that the Twitter user got that number right. Bravo.” He then applauds. Bokuto and Hinata follow. “Maybe I’ll let you do what you said since you got it right.”

Hinata elbows Sakusa suggestively, to which Sakusa repels away from his touch, “Okayyy, Omi. Get it, I guess. Need me to find the user’s number?”

“No.” Sakusa says immediately, but he’s concealing a smirk. He passes the phone to the winking orange-head.

Hinata begins to read: “For Sakusa Kiyoomi, I would bathe in 99.9% disinfectant, drink that shit, even inject myself with it—if it meant getting a shot at bagging that man.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, already huffing. “Look, I don’t know who started the rumor that I’m a crazy germaphobe, but let me sit the record straight now: I am not that deranged; I just like things to be clean and tidy.”

Bokuto nods, crossing his arms, “Yeah, you tell ‘em, Omi!”

Atsumu shakes his head in disappointment, “Ya guys keep making Omi-Omi sound like some freak. Yeah, he wears a mask everywhere and carries hand sanitizer wherever he goes, but that’s just basic hygiene standards. Do better.”

Hinata points at the camera with his chin up, “Yeah, the only time Omi-kun is a freak is when it’s in the sheets.”

“SHOYO!”

“HINATA, HEYYY!”

Sakusa facepalms and sighs, “Give me my mask back; I’m leaving.”

“NO, OMI-KUN, WAAAAAIT . I’M SORRY—“

“This is supposed to be a thirst tweets video, and yet my teammates seem to be the thirstiest of all.” Sakusa says to no one in particular.

“Call it team-bonding. Meian would be proud.” Atsumu responds, imagining the look of approval on their captain’s face.

Sakusa tilts his head back, appearing to be praying to some god. He looks back at the camera, “But to that user, please don’t do that. That’s deadly.”

Bokuto clasps his hands together, “Awww, Omi cares~”

- cut scene -

Sakusa tosses the phone back to the crew, “And that’s all, thank god.”

Hinata grins, “Thanks for sending us your tweets and traumatizing our Omi-kun.”

Sakusa grimaces, “Ah yeah, it was a delight.” He says sarcastically.

Atsumu flashes the camera a charming smile, “Tune in for the upcoming videos of the rest of us reading your thirst tweets.”

Bokuto throws up finger guns to the camera, “Can’t wait to see what you guys have in store for us!”

“This was the MSBY Black Jackals, goodbye!”

kenjisatos

[hoe4hotchner]

Hiii!! Could you do another non bau rich fem!reader where she gave Aaron lots of designer stuff and he starts wearing them to work? Like maybe ties, cuff links, and like an LV duffel bag and the team is just like “??? Woah dude where’d you get that??”

Subtle flex | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x rich fem!reader| WC: 0.9k | CW: nothing

Aaron Hotchner was usually not one for excess. His wardrobe was practical and professional, his tastes minimalistic, and his life, outside of Jack, revolved around efficiency and exuding authority on the job. Sure he had splurged occasionally on a stray high-quality tie here and there as well as his Rolex watch. At least that was until you entered his life.  

The first gift was a tie — a deep navy one in silk with subtle pinstripes. It came in a sleek wrapped box with some designer brand he had never even heard of before. You’d handed it to him with a casual smile, brushing off his initial protests with a light, “Aaron, I saw it and thought of you. Let me spoil you for once.”  

He wore it the next day, paired with his standard black suit, and noticed how it caught the light in the mirror. “Looks good,” he muttered to himself, brushing his hand over it. As hesitant as he had been to accept it, he was thankful for the present and happy that you'd chosen one that wasn't smothered in logos or brand names.

Then came the cuff links. They were sterling silver and engraved with his initials. He opened the box late one evening after you handed it to him over dinner. “You didn’t have to,” he said softly, though his smile betrayed how much he loved them.  

“Of course, I didn’t have to,” you replied, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “But you deserve nice things, Aaron. You do so much good without even expecting a thanks.”  

And so it continued. A Louis Vuitton duffel bag for his work trips, a black leather wallet that somehow managed to look even more professional than the one he’d carried for years, and a collection of even more ties that were understated yet undeniably luxurious and seemed to multiply in his closet every so often.  

At first, he rotated the items slowly into his everyday wardrobe, unsure if they would draw attention. But one particularly chaotic morning, he grabbed the LV duffel, clipped on the cuff links, and shrugged into a jacket before heading into the office having gotten an urgent notification for a case.  

It didn’t take long for the team to notice.  

“Uh… Hotch?” Morgan’s voice cut through the usual buzz in the conference room as Hotch entered. “Is that a Louis Vuitton bag you’re carrying?”  

Hotch glanced at him briefly, setting the duffel down by the door before striding towards the front of the room to grab the file Garcia was holding outstretched for him. “Yes. Why?”  

Morgan blinked. “Why? Man, you’ve been holding out on us. Since when do you roll up looking like you just stepped out of GQ Magazine?”  

Emily leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “Is that a new tie, too? That’s at least Tom Ford.”  

Hotch adjusted his tie instinctively. “It’s not. It’s Brioni.”  

“Oh, excuse us,” JJ chimed in throwing her hands up and exchanging an amused glance with Emily.  

“I’m sorry,” Spencer Reid piped up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are those cuff links monogrammed?”  

“Okay, seriously,” Morgan said, crossing his arms. “What’s going on, Hotch? You win the lottery or something? Cause if your salary is high enough for those purchases Imma have to talk to Strauss about a raise.”  

Hotch, shrugged lightly as he opened his case file. “No. My girlfriend has… a habit of giving gifts.”  

The room fell silent for a beat before Emily’s jaw dropped. “Wait, girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us in more ways than one!”

"Who is she I need details," Garcia cut into the conversation, her excitement starting to bubble over.

JJ smirked. “Are you telling me she just gives you designer gifts casually? I agree with Garcia, who is this woman?”  

Hotch allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he glanced up from his paperwork. “Someone who insists I deserve the finer things.”  

“Damn,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head. “Where can I find one of those?”  

“Maybe start with charm school,” Emily teased.  

As the team bantered, Hotch’s phone buzzed on his desk. A message from you:  

Miss you already. Hope you’re putting the cuff links to good use. Dinner at my place when you get back?

He smiled quickly at his phone before typing back a quick reply.  

Always. I’ll bring the wine.  

When he looked up, the team was staring at him, curious. “What?” he asked, his tone amused, knowing fully well that they wouldn't stop bothering him about you until he eventually agreed to let them meet you.  

“Nothing,” Emily said, though her grin suggested otherwise. “Just trying to imagine Aaron Hotchner in love with a rich fashionista.”  

“Not just a fashionista,” Morgan added, gesturing toward the duffel. “An angel sent from the heavens, apparently.”  

Hotch shook his head, lifting his file up in the air in a quick and smooth motion as if to remind them why they were there. “Focus, everyone. We have a case.”  

A few days later, when you saw Aaron again, he mentioned the team’s reaction with a mix of exasperation and amusement.  

“I think they’re more interested in my wardrobe than the case,” he said, loosening his tie as he sat beside you on the couch.  

You laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Let them wonder. They’ll get used to it eventually.”  

“I’m not sure they ever will,” he muttered, leaning into your touch.  

“Good,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him. “I like keeping them on their toes.”