#you know when you need everyone around you to know you're right about something. and have to fight that urge.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Secret No More

Summary: The rest of the Thunderbolts* find out that you and Bucky are married.

"So…are they?"

"It definitely seems that way."

"But they could just be really good friends."

"They're far too close to be just really good friends."

You quietly laugh to yourself from the corner where you're hiding, slipping into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. All your morning blues have been lifted by the conversation you've accidentally stumbled on, and you couldn't be more grateful to the duo for it.

"They're definitely together. There's no way they aren't." A new voice sounds from the dining room where the conversation is happening. "Have you seen the way Bucky looks at them?"

"I'm sorry I don't stare at the Winter Soldier all day 24/7." You're pretty sure Ava rolled her eyes after that because John lets out a snort of annoyance.

"Careful." A low voice murmurs softly next to you, followed by the warmth of a familiar hand. "Wouldn't want them to find out you're eavesdropping just because you spilled hot coffee all over yourself, would we?"

"Hey Buck." You lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek after checking that the coast is clear. "Want some?"

"Can't say no to good coffee this early in the morning." He takes a carton of milk from the fridge, pouring in just the right amount in your cup. You pour some coffee in his cup, pushing the packet containing today's beans at him so that he can read what flavours are in the dark liquid before adding sugar to his cup. Two teaspoons, like always. It used to be more but you've been trying to curb his sweet tooth so he's been sulking lately. You would pity the villains he's been fighting but he has been far more effective in bringing them down ever since you cut down his sugar intake so you're not complaining. However, because of that, Bucky has been more picky about what flavour of coffee he drinks, which has made your coffee bean shopping harder.

His arm gently brushes against yours as he takes his cup from you, giving you a soft smile before heading to the dining room , presumably to scare the living daylights out of the group gathered there. You decide to hang around the kitchen first and take stock of what supplies need to be bought, a good move judging from the commotion that's happening in the dining room right now.

"I wasn't informed about any team meeting today." You detect a hint of amusement in Bucky's voice.

"Bucky?!" John exclaims followed by incoherent shouts from the others. "We were uh —"

"Are you and Y/N together?" Bob casually asks, eliciting more exclamations from everyone else. You're pretty sure Yelena just covered Bob's mouth in an attempt to stop him from asking any more questions since his voice becomes muffled but Alexei just continues asking on his behalf, clearly curious.

"Comrade, it is a beautiful relationship, you and Y/N. Why so shy? They are strong, kind, and very hard to replace."

"Alexei! You can't just say someone is hard to replace!"

"But they are! There is no one like comrade Y/N, even if you go to the ends of the world!"

Bucky can't help but chuckle, then he calls for you. "Babe, do we tell them?"

"I don't know, do we?" You step out of the kitchen, trying not to laugh as everyone dissolves into more hysterical screaming. "They don't seem ready for it."

"How long has it been?" Yelena asks. John groans in the background, muttering something about how he should have noticed it earlier with how defensive you were over Bucky back when you first met.

"I think it's been a good few months since we got married?" You frown, pretending to be deep in thought. Bucky bursts out laughing as the rest of the team erupts into even more chaos somehow, with Ava screeching at the top of her lungs, Bob exclaiming about rings, Alexei shouting about how marriage is a beautiful thing, and John face plants the nearest wall. Yelena looks stoned for a while, and then gives up.

"Wait, then why have we never seen your wedding rings?" Bob asks, gesturing wildly at the both of you.

"I can turn things invisible, remember?" You touch Bucky's neck and a gold chain shimmers into view. Bucky lifts the hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before untucking the chain from underneath his shirt, revealing the ring that hangs from it.

"That is such a boring ring," Yelena deadpans. "Couldn't get anything fancier with your Avengers paycheck? How much does Tony Stark pay the Avengers anyways?"

"We decided to keep things simple, or it might get in the way during a fight." You take yours out, letting out a yelp as Bucky yanks you down onto his lap.

"We're going to be here for a long time, might as well get comfortable," he sighs, nuzzling into your hair. You lean against his chest and feel his arms automatically wrap around your waist, securing you to your new spot. "I hope you have more of those coffee beans because I'm going to need more coffee after this interrogation session."

"You don't want to try the other beans?"

"I like the lavender taste," he hums, the sound vibrating in his chest.

"They're so cute together, how did we not notice?" Ava hisses. Yelena shrugs in response. Alexei forces John into a chair and Bob happily takes a seat, clearly excited about the gossip that's to come and your interrogation begins.

"So, when did the two of you first meet?" Bob asks the first question.

"It was when Steve brought me to the safe house you were hiding in during the UN bombing, right?" You turn to face your husband.

"Mmhm." He fiddles with your ring, clearly not paying attention to the interrogation going on.

"Hey, you're not allowed to leave me alone to face all their questions!" You give his cheek a poke and he gives a dramatic groan.

"I signed up for this when I married you, didn't I?" He sighs.

"Yes you did." Your cheeky grin causes the corners of his lips to curve upwards and he pokes you back.

"I suppose there's no escaping this."

The team eagerly lean closer as you detail your first encounter with Bucky, followed by your first date with him and the wedding itself. It was tiring, answering every single question, but fortunately Bucky stepped in every now and then, helping to answer some of them. His ice blue eyes would crinkle in amusement whenever he recounted a funny incident, followed by a teasing poke to your ribs which would cause you to squirm but you can tell he's enjoying himself, remembering all the little moments of light in his life.

You would give anything to make him smile like this more often.

Once the interrogation is over, the team split up, mulling over the new cascade of information they've just received. You, meanwhile, remain in your spot on Bucky's lap, feeling his hand run through your hair.

"I can't believe we managed to hide our marriage from a Widow, a Walmart Captain America, the Russian Captain America and a spy who can phase through walls." You laugh, snuggling against his chest. His steady heartbeat reassures you, reminding you that he's right here, by your side.

"I can. After all, we're the world's greatest assassin and a spy who can turn anything they touch invisible." He smiles softly, turning you around to face him. His hands cup your cheeks, cradling your face and he leans in to kiss you on the lips. "I can finally do this without having to worry about anyone catching us."

"I like that." You pull him into another kiss, savouring the taste of his lips. "Makes mornings less stressful."

"It also means I can constantly hold your hand now." He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "And tell you how insanely perfect you are."

"Does this mean I can tell you how extremely handsome you are?" You whisper teasingly, unable to contain the smile on your face.

"Always, love. I'll never grow tired of hearing that."

"Get a room!" Bob yells from his hiding spot around the corner. Ava anxiously shushes him but it's too late. You and Bucky turn to see three heads disappear behind the wall, and you scramble to smack said heads but Bucky tugs you back down onto his lap.

"We're claiming the dining room!" He hollers, then gives you a peck on the cheek. "Go find another room!"

"Buck!"

Your husband only laughs in response, hugging you close. "I'm not letting this opportunity go. I already have you here, I'm not moving anywhere."

"Just admit you're too lazy to move back to one of our rooms."

"And risk spilling coffee on the sheets? Never!"

"Oh, but it's fine to spill coffee on your metal arm?"

"That only happened once! And there's always the dishwasher —"

"No! If I ever see your arm in the dishwasher again, I will personally slap you with it!"

"Fineeeeeee." Bucky sighs. "No more metal arm in the dishwasher."

You let yourself flop back onto his chest, basking in his secure embrace as he finishes his cup of coffee and picks up his book to continue reading.

"I like this coffee." He presses his cheek against yours, purposely rubbing the stubble on your skin because he knows he can irritate you like that and get away with it.

"More than me?" You're not sure why you're feeling so playful today, maybe it's because of the weight that has been lifted after telling the rest of the team about your marriage to Bucky.

"Nothing will ever come close to stealing your spot as my number one favourite." He boops you on the nose, dodging your return attempt with his super soldier reflexes and a wide grin. "Try harder, love."

"You're asking for it, James Buchanan Barnes! Now take it like a man!"

[lighting-and-shadow]

Post LADS Main Story: NonMC Reader x Sylus

So I had a thought again: you being reincarnated into the world of LADS, but after the story ends. Ever is no more. Wanderers have been cured and don't exist anymore. The world is relatively peaceful.

MC has found her happy ending with one of the boys, something you find out during a stroll in Linkon City. And it's not Sylus.

I was thinking it would be Xavier for the angst factor. Because, to Sylus, she chose the prince of the people that caused him so much pain over him. She chose the light Xavier represents over his darkness. She chose someone who, in Sylus' mind, was born with everything over him who worked to get everything he has for her sake.

Or maybe she chose Caleb. And that would hurt too because Sylus realizes that while they only had each other in the past, she overlooks that for her present. That their history isn't nearly as valuble as her history with Caleb.

Either way, it causes sad boy hours. The man is devasted. And while he and MC still have a friendship, it's a bit toxic. No longer do they play Kitty Cards or spend time at the claw machine. With the new love in her life, all that's left for Sylus is scraps.

She uses him. Calls him when she needs something or she wants to do something. But if it's him? She blows him off. She treats him like a joke.

Maybe not even truly realizing that she is (but part of me wants to go the bitch route because I've made her so nice in all my other current works and WIPs; I blame @rcvcgers for this (I say this with love, because I honest to god love Rotten Apples), and need to channel that anger).

Then it gets worse: he dies. She remembers her past with him, and gives back the other half of his soul. And then she turns her back on him for good, cutting ties because their morals are just incompatible. He's so devasted that he takes his own life, no longer immortal because his sorceress abandoned him (just like everyone else did).

But anyways, you figure this out, and basically come barging into his life. Not to make him love you. Not to get her to love him. But to give him something to latch onto.

Let's say Sylus was your favorite in the game (as he is for me, clearly), so you act like a total, batshit crazy, fan girl. And there's something about that crackhead energy that makes him drawn to you.

So you bug him. And bug him. And bug him endlessly. Because even annoyance and anger are better than emptiness and coldness he carries right now. Sure, he hides it well behind snark and flirting, but you know him better. You've watched him from behind a scene for quite some time.

I imagine the reason you're kept around is because of the chaotic nature of who you are and the knowledge you have. And because Sylus doesn't have it in him to give a shit. You're not a threat. If anything, it was the twins that convinced him of your use.

So you live at the base, occassionally witnessing the toxic nature of him and MC's dynamic. And you come up with a plan to help him get over her. Not by making him love you, you'd never be worthy of that, but of getting him to realize that his sorceress is dead. That even it's technically the same the person in soul, she's not the same at her (Aether) core.

Doing so makes you fall even further in love. You discover things about him a simple game could never. You see sights and experience parts of this world that could never captured by a screen or some code. And it hurts.

It hurts because he's more than just a character to you. He cares for you, is soft with you. He buys you things, helps braid your hair, takes you to fancy venues, stands up for you, protects you... You almost think that he loves you.

But that's silly. Who would love you? Who would love the real you, and not the one you present to the world? The one that cries at nothing? The one consumed by anxiety and insecurity? The one that hides under layers and layers of walls capped off by an impenetrable mask? The one that hid herself and changed herself for so many years? The one you're not even sure still exists?

You're such a fraud.

(This whole prompt was inspired by the Webtoon My Derelict Favorite, and I couldn't get it out of my head).

[luvhughes43]

ASHAMED | JACK HUGHES

[MASTERLIST]

request: Jack blurb w/ "are you ashamed of me?" + "i'm scared that you'll start to see me the way i see myself”

note: a repost of my old fic that got deleted <3

word count: 0.5k

“are you ashamed of me?” you whispered when your boyfriend stepped into your shared bedroom. he looked up at you, eyes bewildered as your words finally registered with him. 

you’d been feeling this way for awhile now. you saw everyone’s comments about you, how you weren’t that pretty, that you didn’t look like jacks ex girlfriends, and that you just weren’t right for him. in the beginning of yours and jacks public relationship it was easy to ignore the comments. the bliss of the start of something new, and being happy with jack outweighing every negative. but now that he is gone for hockey all the time, you’ve had a lot of time to think about things. 

it didn’t take long for your past insecurities to creep up on you. your body issues, and lack of confidence coming back at you full force.

jack dropped his bag in the doorway, slowly walking up to you. he held one of his hands out as he got closer and you reached yours out to meet it. his grip on your hand was firm as he used it to pull you closer to him.

“why would you think i’m ashamed of you?” jack speaks softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“i’m not like the girls you’re used to and i know you're seeing what people are saying about me. i would understand if-”

“no,” jack cut you off. “all you need to understand is that i love you. i’m never going to be ashamed of you. i think you're insanely beautiful,” jack placed his hand not holding yours on your check, using his thumb to rub softly at your skin.

the heaviness in your throat grew at jack’s words, tears quietly slipping down your cheeks. you were so tired of not feeling good enough for the person you loved.

your boyfriend silently wiped your tears with his thumb, his other hand squeezing yours three times to wordlessly signal his love for you. “i’m scared that you’ll start to see me the way i see myself,” you whispered to jack after a few moments went by in silence. 

he dropped your hand and let his other hand fall from your cheek. he pulled you into a tight hug, his head immediately coming to rest against your shoulder. “i don’t want you to feel like this” he whispered back to you, his head turning slightly into your neck so he could leave soft kisses there.

“i can’t help it” your voice broke as you replied, hands going up to wrap around your boyfriend's back. there were still tears falling down your face as quiet sobs left your mouth.

“i’m going to do everything i can to make you feel better okay?” jack prompted, removing himself slightly from your hold so he could look into your eyes. you only nodded in response.

“i’m sorry,”

“y/n, you don’t have anything to be sorry for” jack replied, pulling on your hand to lead you over to your guys’ bed. 

you fell asleep to jacks promises and his soft caresses as he assured you that he loved you, and that you had nothing to be afraid of. 

-

-

-

[writeriguess]

Could you please make a fanfic about the reader and katsuki having a baby, like they visit Masaru and mitsuki when the reader was pregnant and that was the last time they saw her and some weeks later katsuki and reader visits them with their baby.

A Welcome Home Like No Other

The first time they visited, the air smelled of home-cooked food and fresh laundry, the warmth of the Bakugo household wrapping around them like a familiar embrace. Masaru had been the first to greet them, his gentle smile making up for the lack of one on Mitsuki’s face—though her sharp eyes softened when they landed on the growing bump beneath your shirt.

"You sure you're eating enough?" Mitsuki’s voice cut through the air as soon as she stepped into the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

You barely had time to say hello before she grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside. Katsuki let out an irritated grunt but followed without protest, rolling his eyes.

"She eats just fine," he grumbled, slipping his hand into yours as if to reassure you that his mother’s scrutiny was just her way of showing she cared.

Masaru chuckled as he shut the door behind you. "It's good to see you both." He turned to you specifically, his expression warm. "How are you feeling? Katsuki told us you're about seven months along now, right?"

You nodded, resting a hand on your belly. "Yeah, almost eight. It’s been… exhausting, but we’re excited."

"Excited?" Mitsuki scoffed, gesturing for everyone to sit in the living room. "You look like you're ready to pop! You better not be letting this idiot stress you out, or I’ll beat him myself."

Katsuki groaned and flopped down onto the couch beside you. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, old hag. I’m takin’ care of her."

Masaru sighed. "Katsuki, language."

You just laughed, squeezing his knee. "He’s been really good, actually. I know he doesn’t look it, but he’s been patient. Even when I wake him up five times a night just to help me roll over."

Katsuki huffed, arms crossed, but you caught the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not my fault you keep gettin’ stuck like a damn turtle on its back."

Mitsuki barked out a laugh. "Hah! That’s what happens when you knock someone up, dumbass. Your problem now!"

You shook your head with a smile, enjoying the familiar, chaotic energy of their home. It had been a while since you both visited, but despite the teasing, you could see it in their faces—Mitsuki and Masaru were thrilled. This was the first grandchild in the family, and even if Mitsuki would never admit it outright, she was eager to meet them.

"You picked out a name yet?" Masaru asked, leaning forward slightly.

You exchanged a glance with Katsuki before shaking your head. "We have a few ideas, but we want to wait until we see them."

"Good," Mitsuki said firmly. "Don't let this idiot name them something dumb like 'Explosion' or some shit."

Katsuki immediately shot upright. "Oi! I wasn’t gonna do that!"

Masaru smiled knowingly. "You were definitely considering it."

Katsuki muttered under his breath but didn’t argue. You leaned into him with a giggle, resting your head on his shoulder. The conversation carried on, Mitsuki giving unsolicited parenting advice while Masaru made sure you had everything you needed. It was the last time they saw you before the birth.

And then, weeks later, you returned—with your baby in your arms.

The door swung open before Katsuki could even knock properly, Mitsuki standing there with narrowed eyes.

"Took you damn long enough," she muttered, but the moment her gaze fell on the small bundle in your arms, something in her face softened.

Masaru appeared behind her, his usual calm expression lighting up with quiet joy. "Oh," he breathed, stepping forward. "So this is…"

"Our brat, yeah," Katsuki said gruffly, but the way he glanced down at the baby—his baby—betrayed just how smitten he was.

You smiled, shifting the tiny, blanket-wrapped form so they could see better. "Come on, don’t just stand there. Meet your grandchild."

Mitsuki clicked her tongue but held out her arms. "Give ‘em here, then. Before this idiot drops ‘em."

"I ain’t droppin’ my damn kid!"

"You dropped your phone in the sink this morning."

Katsuki scowled, but before he could retort, you gently handed the baby to Mitsuki, who took them with surprising tenderness. She stared down at the tiny face peeking out from the blanket, her thumb brushing over their soft cheek.

"...Well," she muttered, voice suspiciously quiet. "Guess you did something right for once, huh?"

Masaru chuckled, peering over her shoulder. "They’re beautiful."

Katsuki scoffed but had the faintest dusting of pink on his ears. "Course they are. Got the best genes."

Mitsuki rolled her eyes but didn’t let go of the baby. Instead, she rocked them slightly, her movements practiced despite how long it had been since she’d last held a newborn. You swore you saw her eyes glisten for a moment before she cleared her throat.

"So, you pick a name yet?"

You and Katsuki exchanged a glance before you nodded. "Yeah. We named them—"

Katsuki cut in, voice quieter than usual. "—Eiji."

Mitsuki’s lips parted slightly. "Eiji, huh?"

Masaru smiled. "That's a strong name."

Katsuki smirked, pride in his eyes. "Damn right."

The baby stirred slightly, letting out a soft whimper, and before anyone could blink, Katsuki was reaching over, his large, calloused hand cradling their tiny head. The way his fingers trembled just slightly didn’t go unnoticed.

"...Oi, don’t cry now, brat," he murmured, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. "You’re already the strongest in the damn room."

Mitsuki clicked her tongue, but there was no bite to it. "They get that from their mother."

Katsuki scowled, but you just laughed, leaning into him. He grumbled under his breath, but his arm instinctively came around your waist, pulling you close.

Masaru, watching all of this, sighed contentedly. "You know, when you two first started dating, I wasn’t sure what to expect."

Mitsuki snorted. "Yeah, I thought you'd break up in a week."

Katsuki bristled. "Oi—"

"But," Masaru continued, smiling at you both, "watching you two now… I think you're going to be just fine."

Katsuki huffed but didn’t pull away from you. Instead, his gaze lingered on the baby in Mitsuki’s arms—his baby, his whole world.

"Tch," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "...Yeah. We will."

And in that moment, with laughter in the air, love in their eyes, and Eiji safe in their arms, the Bakugo family had never felt more complete.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday to you! More merthur role reversal, please and thank you!

a continuation of 1 2

Merlin doesn't have high expectations regarding Arthur's skill as a servant. He's a peasant farmer with an unexpected grasp of weaponry who's probably never even been inside a castle before he'd gotten conscripted into fighting in their war against Camelot.

Arthur is, obviously and understandably, upset at the role he's been forced into. Merlin means to give it a week and then convince his mother that sending Arthur home is a much better reward than making him do Merlin's laundry. Plus, they already have servants who've actually been trained to do this work. He figures after a week of Arthur bumbling around, sending him home will be a relief for everyone.

Except that he's really good at it.

A day in, he has the entire layout of the castle memorized. He knows which clothes go to the laundress and which just need to be beat and set in the sun. He figures out how to order a bath and knows what weird salts and oils go in it even though Merlin usually can't be bothered. He stands with perfect posture at the high table and switches seamlessly between pouring him water and wine, clocking correctly that he can't handle more than two glasses without making a fool of himself, which he thinks he should be offended by except that he's right. He knows which meals Merlin can take in his room and when he has to be dragged to the great hall, memorizes his schedule like the life of a prince is something logical and not a mess of responsibilities and priorities. He even manages to sort Merlin's potions ingredients without much issue, even if he does mutter disparagingly about the waste, which he doesn't understand but decides not to ask.

Frankly, he's the best servant that Merlin's ever had, but even if he wasn't, he still would be, because he's not afraid of his magic.

People aren't afraid of him, really, thank the goddess, but his magic is huge and terrifying and he can only control it with any accuracy half the time. Every time he goes to cast something, everyone ducks, even his teachers.

Arthur has no magic of his own, and honestly seems faintly disapproving of the whole idea of it, but when Merlin explodes something he doesn't mean to or sets it on fire or turns it blue or - well, something he doesn't intend to, something that could so easily be turned against him if Merlin isn't careful, he doesn't so much as flinch.

Even Will is wary of getting caught in his crossfire. Arthur just seems irritated when it ends up making more work for him.

Arthur starts his day like always, throwing open his curtains and telling him to stop lazing about.

"You can't talk to me that way," Merlin says sleepily, burying his face in his pillow to escape the awful sunlight Arthur insists on letting in. "I'm a prince. And a really powerful sorcerer. I," he yawns, "I demand respect."

"You're going to be late for your meeting with your mother," Arthur says, yanking Merlin's pillow out of his arms and holding it threateningly above him. Merlin's already learned the hard way that Arthur isn't above beating him if he doesn't move fast enough.

He moans and rolls to his feet. "I'm going to put you in the stocks."

"Of course, Prince Merlin," Arthur says, as unimpressed with him as ever. "Whatever you say, Prince Merlin. You have budget proposals from the city to look over."

He groans. "You know, you should have more sympathy for me. This whole prince thing is harder than it looks! I'd like to see you do it."

Arthur's mouth twitches. "You do it, Merlin, how hard could it be?"

Uhg. One of these days he really is going to throw him in the stocks.

[satorus-princess]

epiphany

synopsis: the moment jjk men realise that they are in love with you.

characters: gojo, geto, nanami, ino

a/n: guys i struggle to write geto so much please tell me if he's ooc also ino is so precious <33

ˋ°•*⁀➷ satoru doesn't allow himself to fall in love easily, not with his fears of losing those that he cherishes most. in all honesty, he was even afraid to ask you out on a date - not because he was scared of rejection, but because of what the future would do to him. life has never been kind to him, after all.

sweaty hands hesitant to reach for yours, an infinity of his fears that was separate from his infinity technique, preventing him from becoming too affectionate with you. a constant longing in his eyes that formed from his fervent desire to let himself get close to you, to let you come close to him. but he couldn't, not when letting you get close to him means you inching closer to death because you'd become a target.

so, when he realises that he's no longer fearful, he also realises that his fondness for you is no longer something fragile. it's something powerful, unbreakable, yet almost foreign. and if anyone dared to look in your direction in the wrong way, he wouldn't hesitate to take their life.

patience and understanding is all that you have ever shown him, never critical of him keeping his distance or being too reluctant. he needs time, to trust, to know that he's safe, to share some of his silent burdens. it's difficult when he was brought up with the instilled idea that he's different from everyone else.

but he isn't. he's human, too. and that's how you always make him feel. a human capable of love. and he loves you. willing to place his unguarded heart into the palms of your gentle, careful hands.

even with his red, puffy, vulnerable eyes, runny nose, and trembling lips, you still look at him with so much warmth and... is that love he sees peeking in your eyes?

ˋ°•*⁀➷ geto isn't easily impressed. he doesn't bother to, well, bother with anyone without reason. except for his daughters, of course. there's nothing more he loves in the world than them

it's hard to find someone he trusts them with while he's doing his usual cult business, sometimes not wanting his girls to be around for that.

over time, though, he found that he was beginning to trust you. not only were you a good assistant, but you were also good with the girls. you'd watch them and make sure they're happy while geto is in his "meetings". and eventually, he couldn't suppress the affection he felt towards you no longer, deciding to give you a chance.

and fuck, was he glad that he did.

otherwise he would've missed out on moments like this - the three of you sit on the sofa in front of the tv which plays some disney film (one with a rapunzel or something like that, which is where they got the idea to braid geto's hair and weave colourful flowers into it). nanako is tucked into your right side and mimiko on your left. the screen flashes onto your sleeping faces.

his heart practically melts at the sight as he quietly steps over the nail polish bottles and bracelet-making set sprawled on the floor. he dismisses the mess, leaning down to press a kiss to each of your foreheads. he could get used to coming home to this.

you stir awake, squinting an eye open to find geto standing in front of you with a softened smile, natural and sincere, as he carefully tucks the blanket around all of you.

“hey, you're back,” you murmur. you dig into the pocket of your hoodie, pulling out a beaded bracelet with letters on it. “the girls made one for all of us. it's all of our initials on each bracelet.” and oh, he couldn't stop thinking about how much he ached to change your initials.

geto never took off that bracelet, making sure to never lose it. and he also made sure to never lose one of his girls, including you.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ nanami has always been enamoured by you. he's never believed in love at first sight because, despite catching his attention when you first met, his feelings towards you gradually grew. from your first day when you bumped into him and almost spilt coffee on him, which ended up on your blouse instead. and he, thankfully, had a spare shirt that he offered for you to wear.

he does, however, believe in fate because of you.

because how could one read him so well and fit with him so perfectly as if your souls are already intertwined? he knows he isn't the most expressive person, but you still manage to know what he's thinking, what he needs.

he also viewed himself as an independent person, used to not having another person in his space and cooking for one. but he grew accustomed to your presence relatively fast. you brought such light into his life - not a bright, blinding light that one might think; more like the soft glow of a lighthouse, guiding him through the monotonous, sometimes stormy, days.

he began to find himself craving your company. his heart aches in a way it never has before and he doesn't remember the last time he cared about someone to this extent. or if he ever even cared about someone this much. with his busy schedule and focus on work so that he can finally retire, he didn't really have or make much time for anything personal. until you, of course.

and he doesn't see you as an obstruction to his life plans; you complement them. he's able to spend time with you and focus on his work at the same time because you keep him company while he works, bring him homemade food which he'll always eat even if you aren't the best of cooks. and when you fall asleep on his lap in his chair, head resting on his shoulder, he can't help but smile tenderly. he feels his heart pick up pace - unusual for him - and he realises that perhaps everything is worth it because of you, for you.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ ino, such a lovesick puppy. he's been in love with you since the two of you were only best friends, but he doesn't even realise he's in love until long after. sure, he had a crush on you and he's aware of that, but your heart captured him unknowingly over time.

he had the brightest smile, putting the sun to shame, when you agreed to go on a date with him. and then, a second, and another, and another. he'd go back to his dorm feeling giddy, heart warm and fluttery like a hummingbird, mind racing with thoughts of only you and where to take you on the next date. and he would already be texting you about another date.

one of your favourite places to go to together was the park in the evening so that it was mostly empty. he sat with his legs crossed, leaning back on one of his hands as the other hand feeds you crisps. your head lies on his thigh, legs outstretched along the grass. he's gazing down at you, his heart totally not threatening to jump out of his chest.

and it's one of the many moments that he makes you laugh and you're almost tearing up with giggles, and oh my god, i made her laugh. and since when did your eyes look like they were created from the prettiest of jewels? and your smile, your smile. it's directed at him. those smile lines pierce right through his chest and become engraved into his heart.

he loves your laugh, your eyes, your smile. he loves you.

oh, i love her.

“i've been waiting for you to say that for so long,” an angel speaks.

oh. no, it's you. and he realises he might have accidentally let the confession slip out. he was so caught up in his daze he didn't notice the world around him - or even himself, for that matter. his focus was only on you, his angel.

“... did i say that out loud?”

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Days pass. Patience grows thin. Deathbed talk begins. You pull the last straw and are taken somewhere new.

[Invincible Varients X Reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [11]

12 * Two Inches? [9.2k]

"Nice, nice!

Are you a virgin?

Nice, nice!

What color are your panties?"

Nice Nice - Dazey and the Scouts

        "We need to tell everybody." He couldn't look away from that massive white thing. Hard-shelled with soft, crabby flesh underneath. His mouth watered just looking at its twitching mandibles.

        From behind him, "No."

        Baldie turned, brows pressed together. "Why not?"

        Phantom watched him, feet away, keeping eyes and ears out for approaching company. No one was coming.

        "(Y/n) likes you." He says instead of answering directly. "If you ask her to come with you alone, she will." 

        Baldie's mouth fell open. Now he was starting to get it. "But... You just said all that stuff about not splitting up."

        "Because I had to." Phantom said, modulator softly echoing off the cave walls, "To keep the peace until we could talk. This is the safest way to do it."

        "We can't just keep this from every-"

        "You saw what those two did to her." Phantom cut him off, surprising even himself, "How easily they took her from you. I had to get her out of that situation. We only survived because they decided they were done playing. Do you really want her to be around people like that?" His throat itched. Vocal cords thin and raw after ten seconds of jabbering. 

        "Then we tell everyone but them." Baldie reasoned, though the voice in the back of his mind agreed. To take the hoard that was you and run.

        "If we're all together, they'll find us. It has to be just us." Phantom finishes, cards splayed across the table, hoping Baldie would fold.

        Baldie's mouth opened, closed, opened, closed. He knew he should do the right thing. Refuse. Tell everybody. Band together, kill Lensless and Scars with everybody else. Establish peace. Live with and eat bugs forever. Find friendship and understanding in the only person who could really understand what he went through- the other versions of himself.

        But he just couldn't. 

        He'd waited four years in hell only to find your bones. Watched you be civil to the others, Viltrumite loyalists and enforcers and leaders. It made him sick, the idea of you with them. Any of them but him. Phantom must feel that way too. 

        He was no fool. Alternate motives were guaranteed in a situation as suspicious as this. "How long have you known about this place?" Was double-speak for, 'Did you find this before or after we ate a guy?'

        "Not long." Phantom lies, "Three days." 

        Baldie nods shallow before spinning, neck cracking like a whip. "You're only telling me this now because, what? You think I'm stupid? You think I'm easy to kill?" 

        Phantom backed up, hands raised defensively. "No." He says, shaking his head, voice small, hunched over, feigning doe-ishness. 

        "What's stopping you from killing me when I bring her here?" Baldie's prowling closer now, fists clenching, "What's stopping you from just taking her yourself? Why are you telling me this?" Veins pop out on his scarred neck, pulse throbbing in his clenched fists. He's still angry about you letting Lensless and Scars go. He doesn't want, he needs to hit something hard as he can.

        "Because you can make her happy." Phantom says, "And I can't." That makes Baldie pause. "I wish she liked me the way she likes you, but I know it won't happen. I'm okay with that. I just want her safe." It's a lie but a well-told one.

        Baldie relaxes but not fully. "If you ever fucking try to touch her, I will kill you." He only says it because you're not here to hear him say it, because he couldn't say it to the ones that hurt you. Then and now. He had dreaded coming home from prison and you being scared of him, his appearance and the scars that festered underneath. But the you now wasn't scared, you were starting to cherish him. He was afraid now, of fucking it up a second time. 

        "Understood," Phantom said because this is exactly what he wanted.

        "I-" Baldie took a breath, squared his shoulders, "I also need some time to figure this out. This," the bug queen, the cathedral, the never ending cache of food, "is a lot." But most of all, he needed to figure out how to tell you.

        ***

        Your phone was gone. Off the rock you'd left it on to play music and die on. You'd asked around unhurriedly. Not like it'd be any help but the comfort of something not from this shithole was alluring. Something to hold and know you had existed before this and would hopefully exist after. But nobody knows where it went. Though Lensless (when you saw him next) claimed he took it and tried to get you to force him to tell the truth. You didn't even try.

        Gray was dodgy, not about the phone, but about you. He couldn't seem to hold conversation with you for more than two seconds at a time before flying off somewhere with something better to do. He'd always been that way, but he'd been shorter with his words and was staring at you a whole lot more. Despite this, he wasn't a suspect. You doubted he'd want anything to do with your phone, even if it was working.

        You were rotting and they all saw it. You couldn't explore long. The torches you'd been making out of soaked, then slightly dried wood and cloth never last longer than a half hour. You couldn't go to the surface, ceiling too high to even consider scaling out of. Not like any of them would let you anyway, not with Scars and Lensless roaming the wastes during the day. Hiding out somewhere hidden so those who wanted them dead couldn't even kill them in the daylight. Or maybe they were hiding, waiting to pick them off one by one. No one knew what they were planning. 

        Scars and Lensless always came at night because they'd yet to find another source of food. The peace was paper thin. They ate and didn't attack or kidnap you. Your horde of bodyguards let them stay in the shade for a few hours. We don't hurt you and we get to eat. Not exactly an even exchange.

        Personal agendas were always thick in the air now. It was only a matter of days until the food was gone. They could go without awhile, but as soon as you began to starve, there'd be another death and another. Everyone was planning to be the last one standing, to die in the desert with you. The truce wouldn't last much longer but for tonight, nobody mentioned it.

        Gray marked day twenty on the wall. He kept count for the sake of rationing. Meager scraps of what hadn't rotted remained. Only you would eat tonight, the small hard pieces of Emperor jerky that always got caught in your teeth a reminder. 

        Hopelessness isn't in the air, it's already sunken in, become a part of each of you. People were starting to think about dying or finding a way to make this all work long term. But without food? It would not. 

        The deathbed talk started lightly, a reprieve from their thoughts and the empty expanse around them. 

        "I could really go for mom's chicken parm." Maskless says, watching you nibble on small pieces of Emperor meat.

        Tracksuit's mask fluttered when he laughed, "Your mom cooked?"

        "Yours didn't?"

        So began talk of Debbie Grayson. Another universal constant, but she was dynamic through the multiverse. Tracksuit talked about a distant figure he never liked much. Maskless implied kind acceptance, the love some of them yearned for. She stood up to Nolan and died for it. Mohawk laughed in his face. Bragged about how he came to your world partly to kill her himself again. 

        "Did you?" Omni asked, sounding suspiciously interested. Like he'd had a similar idea.

        "Nah." Mohawk kicked at the ground. "Wasn't home. Any of you dicks find 'er?"

        Nobody had. 

        Lensless claimed a weak, once loving mother who stepped aside when the Viltrum Empire came to Earth. Struck by grief at the death of her husband at her child's hand. They lived together through the change Viltrum brought to Earth. What was left of it after the slaughter Lensless brought down. She was a ghost. Wasting away as the world was rebuilt into a utopia. The last time he saw her, she was hanging in her closet. He said this lightly, with the same smile he always wore.

        Scars grinned at the story, told them that Debbie Grayson's body would never be found in his world. Left it at that. No one wanted to know.

        Gray was confused by all of this. The death. The alien versions of his, "Mother raised me on Viltrum." Turned heads. "She likes it there."

        Baldie stirred, agitated by the idea. Mom was good, she was just. She was taken from Earth just like he was. Brought to Viltrum, not in a cell, but still imprisoned. Dad gave him updates in between beat-downs on his cell floor. She had stopped talking, stopped eating, had to be put on life support to stay alive. Nolan refused to pull the plug. He kept his wife unwillingly alive as a self-inflicted vegetable. Baldie wished he could've escaped another way. Seen mom one last time, taken her off that horrid life support and let her rest in peace.

        But he kept his mouth shut. He felt if he opened his mouth at all, the cave secret would come spilling out. He hadn't figured out how to tell you. Where to tell you. When. How you'd react.

        Phantom hadn't spoken at all since he'd talked with Baldie those days ago. Something about Mom and Viltrum made him spark, contempt thick in his voice. "As breeding stock?"

        Gray turned to him, "That's not what I said."

        "Dad said that's all humans were good for," Phantom said.

        ***

        "Is she with child?" The Viltrumite doctor asked as they all stepped into the sterile room. White on white on white. Technically, only Mark needed to be in attendance for his physical. There had been plenty of appointments since he was the first human-Viltrumite hybrid and the Empire desperately wanted to know how he was developing. But his parents came, they always came because they cared. Humanity's customs had rubbed a dent into Nolan's character. The other Viltrumites didn't approve but he still conquered planets, if not more effectively than before- excited to return to his family.

        "No." Debbie said firm. "We've already told you, we're not-"

        "You brought the human woman to breed did you not?" The doctor looked square at Nolan. Debbie was beneath him. 

        "I feel it's better to focus on Mark until he develops his powers." Nolan said as Mark climbed onto the table for a full body scan. He was seven, small for a Viltrumite boy his age but Debbie was sure he'd hit a growth spurt soon. 

        The doctor watched numbers flash on a screen. Mark's vitals, muscle and bone density. Hardly different from a full blooded Viltrumite. "He will soon, Nolan. It would be prudent to begin procreation immediately."

        "I said no." Debbie snapped. 

        The Viltrumite doesn't turn to address her. "You should consider your mission on Earth a great success, Nolan. We were unsure of human-Viltrumite compatibility before, but by the time he's developed his powers- he'll be strong as a full-blood. The Empire thanks you for this knowledge."

        "Uh, yeah sure." Nolan internally wilted at his wife's hard stare. "But you don't need me to have more children do you? There's so many Viltrumites and humans to do that for me."

        The doctor's hands balled to fists. "You know?"

        It's a secret Mark isn't privy to. Debbie isn't privy to. Nolan knows. There are only fifty full-blooded Viltrumites left in the galaxy. Their bloodline thinning in other mixed races. The Empire is weak, desperate. Mark the greatest success yet. 

        "Yes," Nolan said.

        "Then you know what you must do."

        ***

        "There are other humans to do it for him." He says, the parallel is like a hammer to head. The population of Viltrum had thinned further since then, but there were still others to carry the mission. He could just... No. No, he couldn't defect like that, it wasn't like mother. The Empire wouldn't even allow you to be considered if you couldn't procreate. Even if he wanted to, he was stuck in the desert. No way of returning to his Empire. Still, he looks to you and finds a cringe he feels the need to reset. "The parents of our hybrid children are not forced into what they do. It is bad for the child's physical health if some human practices are not done during pregnancy and early development." Only in hybrids. Viltrumite babies weren't so needy. Remembering himself, a tiny, keening and a desperate thing, made him embarrassed to not be full blooded. 

        Your expression only worsens. You did not like that. He is confused, what he said was very humane. He left out the part that humans were selected by health and fertility, that many did not meet their qualifications. Some did not wish to serve the empire, so they would be killed until another was found. Rinse, repeat. After awhile, all participants are willing.

        "Wait." Tracksuit's accent cut the tension. "You were on Viltrum from day one, yeah?"

        "I was born there." Gray said, proud. It was like a badge among the lesser versions of him. 

        Tracksuit's fingers snapped. "That makes so much sense!" Gray doesn't ask, so Tracksuit continues, "You know, why you're taller than the rest of us!"

        Looks were shared. "He's not-" Then. "Wait- Hey! Stop hovering for a second!"

        Gray, who perpetually seemed to hover above the ground except for when he slept, did as requested. Gasps rang through the cave. Marks stood beside him. Hands going from the top of their heads to the middle of Gray's chin. All of them were the same height, except for Gray. Two, maybe three inches taller than the rest.

        There was outrage from some. Gray did not care. Height did not matter on Viltrum, through he suspected his difference was due to a different level of gravity throughout his lifetime. Odd, yes, but he can only focus on you and your faraway expression. What were you thinking about? Were you not impressed with his height? Didn't Earth women like taller mates?

        He is so focused on you he nearly doesn't catch Phantom's quiet words.

        "She'd rather die than live on Viltrum." The whole time he'd been simmering, building up the strength in his throat.

        Gray looked to him. Saw past his modulator and mask, and knew he was a hurt, aching, little boy on the inside. One he could've been, had he not been raised to be strong on Viltrum. Gray pities him, but feels no compassion. A bleeding heart was just that, a bleeding heart. Weak, soon to die.

        "Your mother is dead, yes?" He says more than asks. It's a guess, an educated one. The human-raised among his ilk were too transparent with their feelings. 

        Phantom jerks as if struck, voice a growl like what he says will hurt him. "Dad killed her." 

        Weakness. "If she resisted, then it had to be done. She was not strong enough for The Empire or your father. My mother was, and she still serves The Empire." He says as if his mother didn't only have one child. As if he didn't cherish growing up surrounded by his parents love and attention. She had not done everything she should have for The Empire and he still loved her, his father loved her. He too was weak, but unlike Phantom, would not show it.

        Phantom bristled under the mask. Tense. Ready to strike. But he looks at you. Remembers what's at stake. Forces himself to relax.

        Mohawk's cackle hurts his ears, "Maaaaan! You can't be sayin' that shit to this dude!" His thumb jerked toward Phantom, "Dude looks like a school shooter!"

        Phantom took the abuse on the chin. He'd take all he needed to because soon enough, he'd show them all.

        ***

        Scars and Lensless touched down, made their gross, sexual commentary. Toed the line. Maskless built the fire, Gray marked day twenty-two. 

        You eat beside Tracksuit. Friendship an undercurrent you keep hidden at these fireside. The others would be weird, territorial. Scars and Lensless might fucking kill him. You hoped they didn't hear you pour your heart out to him about Mark. Knowing your luck? They probably had.

        Another night of tension. Conversational scraps. No one had found anything in the caves or the desert. Until.

        "Alright, I'm bored." Mohawk shot a pointed finger your way. "I gotta know, how was he in bed?"

        You almost drop your jerky. "Excuse me?"

        "You heard me. How was fuckin' Daddy's little clone?" 

        You'd been avoiding the topic for days. Avoiding Omni for days. He had his own cot now, had for days, but he pushed it right up next to yours. Sleeping next to one another, ignoring his chatter, trying to get him to sleep on his cot and not roll onto yours in the night. All you cared about was if he would kill you or not. Since he wasn't trying, you didn't need to talk to him. Still, he tried. Over and over to catch you out alone and you continued to dodge. Using your powers to get someone else to be around. He was smart and knew the others shouldn't know. Liked keeping a secret between you both, until he didn't. 

        "I told you twelve times already, we didn't have sex." Your lies sting him. The first time you denied it, he didn't mind. It was survival. But now? You sounded grossed out by the idea of him inside you. As if your body hadn't been begging for more. As if he hasn't tasted you on his fingers. 

        "Sure you didn't." Mohawk snickers. "Yelling at him for that long?"

        "Dude," Tracksuit swallows a wad of meat, "I'd tell you if she was fuckin' some guy. It's like, bro code man."

        Mohawk snorted, "I'm just sayin', if we were alone for that long? You would not be yelling at me." His brows do a stupid jig on his forehead. You want to throw your jerky at him but you needed it. You'd used your reserves for the day on shutting Scars and Lensless up for an extended period. They seemed to come to the fireside just for your control. Work it out until your nose bled or you passed out, then leave into the night.

        "If we were alone that long, I'd kill you." You say.

        He bit his pierced lip in a grin. "I'd like to see you try."

        "Say that stupid shit again and I will."

        Omni had had enough. The secret was doing no good for your relationship. He said loud and clear for the whole desert to hear, "Is it so bad that I made love to my wife?"

        Your jerky finally drops out your hand as you stood. "You-"

        Mohawk slapped his knee. "Knew it! I knew it!"

        "We didn't!" You glare at him, trying to stop him with your eyes. 

        Omni levels you with a too-serious glare. "We did and it was beautiful."

        "No!" You hands go to your head. You do not have the energy to deal with this.

        Mohawk clutched his chest, laughing so hard he may vomit. "Him! Him first?! Ain't no way!"

        Your control on Lensless and Scars snapped. Lensless shot up, arm raised, "Me next! Me! Pick me!" While Scars watched you with a small, knowing smile. He'd already known. Guessed or heard somehow. You could never tell with this freak.

        "Oh God." Tracksuit ran a hand under his mask. 

        "Wait." Mohawk stopped. "What about bro code? Were you in that pussy too!?"

        "No." Omni said at the same time as you.

        The unity made Mohawk stop laughing. Taking stock of the situation, the way you stood in front of him, trying to mask your anger in a way you wouldn't if he was lying. If he was lying you'd make him jump into the fire, but you just looked anxious now, barely contained. 

        "You actually fucked her." It's not a question. Omni didn't joke. "I should cut your dick off." Mohawk wanted to say little but considering they were the same person? Definitely not little.

        "You will not." Omni says, smile cocky enough to make them all bristle, "But I didn't need it."

        Mohawk's hands go to the shaved sides of his head. "Fucking-!" He'd done plenty of that in his day, especially since your death to fill the void. If anyone knew about meaningless sex it was him but you fucked him, another version of him, and not him him. It was a total betrayal, a slap in the face, a Coalition of Planets data pad under the mattress. 

        Nothing seemed more healing to him then being buried in your pussy. Negging you was flirting for him. He was just trying to get in your pants, then your heart. He'd thought the teasing would bring you closer together. He'd had a plan but now all he wanted to do was kick Omni's ass for existing. 

        He stood. Omni stayed seated. "Do you really plan to attack me, Little Man?" Mohawk doesn't see but feels his eyes flick up and down. It was obvious who the scrawniest was out of all of them, Mohawk himself. Nothing to sneeze at in terms of physique but compared to Omni's brick wall body? He stood no fucking chance.

        But he knew his physique didn't matter, that he was more durable, better than all of them combined. And he wouldn't take such a insult in front of you. 

        "Yea-"

        "Take a breather." You say. Mohawk shoots hard into the night. You hold control long as you can. 

        "I appreciate the assist, my love but l-"

        You hold up a hand shutting him up. "I'm not your love or your wife. That was the whole fucking point of what we did." You turn to the rest, the official news hitting them all at once. "And if any of you assholes have a problem, I'll send you out until you can act like adults. Jesus Christ." 

         Gray felt strangely disappointed. You couldn't help the repopulation effort but you'd still had sex just to have sex. Why? He never understood why his parents did what they did. Never got to lay his version of you down himself. Baldie tells himself you're only human. Needed to let off steam, but he angsts anyway. Lensless and Scars look to each other. Seeming to physically brew up punishing ideas. Maskless didn't care. Tracksuit hoped Mohawk wouldn't come back and murder him over an assumption.

        Phantom sat content. Upset, yes, but content knowing this information would push Baldie further to his side. All evidence of Omni's mark on you could be erased anyway- once Baldie was out of the picture. If everything went his way no one else would touch you ever again.

        ***       

        You sat on the ground in total quiet. Alone for the first time in forever in the central cave. You couldn't remember who was on babysitting duty or where they'd gone. You continued knitting garbage together on your bare arms. Everyone had a cot now, but you wanted a blanket that wasn't Omni's cape after that shit he pulled last night. You'd slept against a carved bench by the fire while he tried to call you to bed. You ignored him until the only sounds you could hear were the fire and your teeth chattering.

        You were exhausted and your whole body ached, and every time you fucked up the technique, you swore. It'd been getting harder to keep your emotions in check. You were always partly starving, bored, afraid for your life. You were fraying at the edges and didn't know how much more you could take. 

        "Hi."

        You nearly jumped out of your skin. Falling forward, scraping your elbows on the cave floor, garbage fabric falling to useless shreds on the ground. You twisted, ready to bark out a kill order.

        Phantom stood. Hand poised like he was going to touch your shoulder but thought better of it. 

        "What?" You gathered your limbs under yourself, trying to look more composed. 

        He notices you're slow to do so. You were not as afraid of him as the others. Unsure, reasonably so, but not enraged by his closeness. This was a good sign. 

        He reached into his belt. You'd never seen him turn out his pockets, had no idea what was inside. Mind racing that he was going to pull out a weapon, superhero murder gas or something of the like. Instead, he holds a small flat disc. No larger than the center of his palm.

        "For you." He held his hand out, palm open, waiting for you to take it.

        You ogle the thing with a frown. "It's not going to cuff around my wrists right?" You remembered the thing he'd thrown at you in Sydney. What you guessed it was but it was never confirmed to be. Remember what Scars had brought with him to subdue you. You suppress a shiver.

        "No." He says, smile soft in his voice. "I used this when I knew I didn't have the time to follow a suspect." His thumb pressed on the disc's center and out popped a suction cup. Another press and it was smooth once more. "I did a lot more work for the GDA than the others."

        He assumes anyway. Those lazy, immoral rats didn't care about the planet most of them grew up on. Not like Phantom did. He did everything he could to protect it. He still remembers what Dad said to him that horrible day. A sneer as he said  "his hobby was cute," right after leveling their family home, after killing you. Just remembering spiked his heart rate. 

        He forced himself to breathe. Be level, calm. He held his arm out a little further but didn't dare touch you. Careful not to set you off, the poor, scared little mouse that you were.

        "Or," he started, nervous under your attention, "to keep covert operatives safe." He flipped the disc on its side, slid a hidden track down to reveal a slim red button. "Press this and I'll be alerted. I'll come right away." He slid the hidden compartment shut and waited.

        He wanted to keep an eye on you. Keep you in the palm of his creepy hand. He wanted to...

        You were always in the same place. Always under threat of Scars and Lensless suddenly swooping down and snatching you up. This wasn't about stalking, it was about protecting. After all, he had saved your life from them, and your own stupid mistake. 

        You took the thing, slow, like you were scared if you moved too quick his predator instinct would spring and he'd grab your arm. But he holds himself perfectly still. Feeling the euphoric thrill that is your fingers grazing over his palm through kevlar. When your touch leaves, the sensation lingers.

        You turn the thing over and over in your palm. Testing the weight and muttering, "Where was this a few days ago?" Before sliding into the pocket of your soldier pants. Its weight is near imperceptible but you feel it tugging at your hip. A real, solid comfort. A promise.

        You realize you're being an asshole.

        "Thank you." You say. Hoping he doesn't take it and his promise of protection back. Machine Head was always so quick to take privileges like that away. You worried but a lightning speed pick-pocketing doesn't occur. You relax. "For this and the other day. Those guys are uhm..." You look up through the porthole as if they'd be there waiting. They aren't. You don't want to jinx it. "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

        He nods. All talked out for the day. Chest ablaze with the praise. 

        "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

        He picked up your trash and re-knit it before you could think about doing it.

        "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

        He brought Gray's cache of trash to weave closer. Sat by your side and passed you pieces as you went along. Quietly enjoying your company.

        "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

        ***

         Dinner tonight was a broth of Emperor's bones to be sipped out of cups of dry clay Gray baked in the sun. He only made bowls for those two because if he didn't, they'd have an excuse to drink from yours. It was not that he cared for your comfort, why should he if you couldn't help him complete his mission but... There was no mission in this wasteland. He tells himself he's trying to keep the peace, to do the most rational thing in a hopeless situation. You were needed for morale, the others and not his of course.

        You tilted the bowl to your lips and let the poor excuse for hot soup slide down your throat. Scars watched your throat bob. Wanting nothing more than to drink the liquid out of your mouth after a long day of desert dwelling with Seven. He settles for drinking his own share.

        Scars is watched himself. Nobody trusts him not to try and take you to the sky again. Maybe even take you away for good. He hadn't made his move yet, but it was expected soon. For tonight, he did the same thing he had for the last week.

        "Stop avoiding the question, Dregs." Piss you off on purpose, asking personal questions and making assumptions about your previous life. You didn't understand why he did it. You always shut him up and he was too pussy to attack even with Lensless in a room full of your personal bodyguards. Sometimes you thought he was getting off on bothering you, on not letting you have any sense of peace. But he barely fought back, letting you shut him up and bite back.       

        "Be quiet." And he was. Thank God.

        Your nose hadn't started to bleed yet. Your powers should be weaker from eating less and less these last few days but you were on a roll tonight. 

        "Why are you getting so defensive?" Lensless baited. "We've been plenty vulnerable with you about our lives. Why can't you do the same thing for us? Just tell us who came up with the name!"

        "Leave."

        The cave whooshes with a rush of air. The kindling scattered to the floor. Regathered by Omni before they can burn themselves out. You nod thanks. The cave was insulated from desert night chills but it was no camping trip, you needed the fire. 

        You feel your control on Scars start to slip. "Stay quiet." You close your eyes. Feeling power loosen on Lensless, even at a miles distance. By now, his mind is free but his body is not. You focus. Try to keep them both evenly controlled. You'd never had a workout quite like this. Regular human beings were so easy to control you were unused to challenge. Hadn't even had any resistance from non-psychics until that day on the roof. You wouldn't say it but the exercise was welcome but you almost started looking forward to making fools of them over the nightly bonfires- showing them all you had something they couldn't control. You.

        While you were focused, Mohawk hits you where it hurts. "By all means, leave those dickheads in the dark but why not tell the rest of us? We're buddies by now, yeah babe?" He knows your hold would break if you added another Mark to the roster. You can shut those assholes up, but not him.

        "None of your business." You grit out through ground teeth. Feeling Lensless's mind wriggle in your hold. You clamp the mental prongs down.

        He really shouldn't agitate you but you'd been avoiding him for days now. He just needed you to look at him again after that moment of union in the caves. "I think it is," Omni says. 

        Mohawks brows shoot up in surprise but he takes the advantage, willing to work with anyone if it meant getting under your skin. "See, babe? Everyone wants to know, even this shithead."

        You scowl at Omni, concentration waning. Scars mentally slashing at your power with steely claws. 

        "Shut up." 

        "Think of it like a campfire story, ya'know. You can even change the names around if ya want." You don't budge. Mohawk pouts, "Come oooonnn, I showed you mine, you show me yours isn't that how the sayin' goes?"

        "I said," your eyes snap open, control gone from the others, "shut up."

        It's Mohawk's turn to go quiet. Lensless returned to the fire in a snap that again, scatters the wood. The fire is restacked before you notice a change in light. 

        "Idiot." You tsk at a finally shut up Mohawk. 

        "Did I miss anything?" Lensless asked.

        "Just our dear Dregs getting defensive over the tiniest of questions." Scars said.

        "I'm not defensive." You say, defensively. 

        "Then tell us." Mohawk goaded. Your hold already gone with your concentration.

        "Yeah, I wanna know why you're so hot and evil and stuff." Lensless said.

        You scowled. None of them were stopping this line of questioning. Why the hell was Mohawk working with Scars, who he tried to kill last week, to get information out of you? Why the hell weren't Phantom or Gray stopping this?

        On the flip side, Phantom wanted to know. He knew you'd be upset if he asked. But the cool-headed image of him in your head wouldn't crack if he stayed quiet. When you stopped being angry you'd think it was survival move to stay quiet. Not speak against the majority.

        Gray shouldn't let the tensions rise, he knew, but you were so vexing. All he needed to do was let the others crack your brain open for him.

        Baldie tried to stop it, weakly. "She doesn't want to talk." Said as a mutter because he craved knowing all of you, but knew if he said nothing, you'd be pissed.

        "Stop white-knighting, dude, she's not gonna fuck you." Mohawk said and that shut him up. Fighting all of them was a stupid idea. But leaving in a huff, leaving you alone, was a stupider idea. The best thing he could do was sit by your side as silent moral support. Back your play.

        "I'm not fucking any of you." You say.

        Mohawk scoffed. "You fucked Wonder Boy over there."

        You lean forward, elbows to knees, "Yeah, and not you." That made his smirk crumple.

        He forced it to bounce back. "Not yet."        

        "Mmm, no." You say, a lilt in your voice, "Thing is, I just don't think you're all that attractive." It's a lie but one you try to sell. Happy to bruise an ego. "I never thought the Mark in my timeline was either. With him," you jerk your head toward Omni, "I just needed stress relief and we were in the dark, so who really cares?"

        Mohawk's lips purse like he'd sucked a lemon. "Funny you say that." He shifted, pulling something out of his back pocket. 

        Your phone. Caligula's belly flashing on the lock screen, fully charged.

        "Give me that." You don't want to waste what power you have left, not yet. "How is that even working?"

        "No shot." His shit-eating grin returns, "You could'a been explorin' the caves all this time, playing your stupid music-" Your eyes shift around, wondering who told. "We got crazy tech in these suits, babe. I had Art put a phone charger in mine cuz I kept missing your calls while I was workin' and you'd get pissed!" He slid the phone into a seam on his bicep, surly enough the charging sound dinged. He pulled it out. "-But you didn't think to ask cuz you're such a prissy bitch."

        "You want to call me that again?" It's a dare. 

        One he doesn't take because he has the upper hand. "So I started goin' through ya phone." He flips it to himself and unlocks it with a swipe of the thumb. "Can't believe your passcode's the same." He laughs, tapping at the screen. 

        "Oh no, you beat my Tetris Lite high score." You say, because there's nothing incriminating on your phone. Aside from vague text chats with Machine Head and Isotope. "What's your point?"

        "I'm so glad you asked." A few more taps and he where he wanted to be. An old photo album automatically downloaded to your phone from the cloud. You never looked at it, never cared to. Images carried over from your old phone before Machine Head issued you a new one, decked out with all sorts of encryption tech for secure messaging and calls. You didn't need pictures of your old work schedule or study notes from high school. But you never found the time or energy to delete them.

         He flipped the phone over, stretched out his arm and panned the image around the circle. Letting everybody take in the truth. You, five years ago, kissing Mark's cheek, him grinning stupid at the screen. Your third or fourth date, the best so far. It had been your lock screen for months. 

        "Still think I'm unattractive?" Mohawk smirked.

        Caught red handed. Your words catch in your throat. All of them processing what you had been to Mark. Even in the vaguest terms. Their hopeful puppy dog eyes. The memory of being happy and younger. 

        Mohawk started swiping through the pictures. One after another, in the short moments after the first. A cheek kiss to a lip kiss, the both of you blushing and smiling. "Doesn't this bring back memories, babe?"

        Phantom feels his heart melt. He'd taken those same photos with you. Lensless had too, though with a lot more tongue. Baldie had too, but he'd been too shy to go in for a kiss on the lips. Omni was never one for selfies, thought they were a waste of time. But that didn't stop him from collecting photos, asking friends or strangers to snap some when you were out. He remembers you making fun of him for how serious he always took it. Mohawk had plenty pictures of you on his phone that he hadn't brought along. Mostly of your eyes looking up at him pleadingly, lips stretched over his cock, tears messy on red cheeks. He was deeply disappointed not to find anything similar on your phone. Scars didn't know you young, but liked where this was going. The look on your face, the rage, the humiliation- oh so sweet. 

        Gray did not have any photos of you. Photos for fun weren't a thing on Viltrum. Tracksuit had plenty of nudes on his phone, mostly of himself. Now, he was glad he hadn't brought his phone. A little glad he was witnessing true reality TV trash in real time but still, he felt bad for you but- come on, drama like this doesn't come around every day. Maskless watched on less enthused. Here we go, more het-slop drama. Fantastic. 

        "Give me that," you warn low, "give me that right now." You're saving your power now. Strategizing how to hurt him best in one big burst. 

        "Or what? You'll tell me to shut up?" He swipes through another photo. Mark's back to the camera, your head over his shoulder, locked in a hug. "Man," he whistles through his teeth, "you've got a lot of these. Wanna know the best part?" He asks the others, not you. "These are years old and she still has 'em-"

        "I meant to delete them!" You can't help the outburst. 

        "And I went through 'em all, we stop showing up right around..." He stopped at your last photo of Mark. "Here. 'Bout five years ago," according to the photo app metadata. Mark sat across from the camera at a fancy dinner table. He was late to his own reservation, leaving you embarrassed and feeling like an inconsiderate dickhead. But when he came with roses in hand and you forgave him right away. You'd never been on a date like that again because not long after- you were through. 

        "Shit," Lensless took the phone, Mohawk let him have it, "We rock a suit, huh?"

        Scars leaned over his shoulder. Frankly disgusted by how sweet his own face could look. "Rocked her right after this picture was taken I wager."

        "No!" You should kill them all. Like, actually. You couldn't do them all at once though, you were deciding who to hurt.

        "Why haven't you taken any pictures with him in that long, huh?" Mohawk went on. "Trouble in paradise, babe? You know, you'd never have any with me." Bullshit. 

        Omni took the phone out of Lensless's hand. Swiped through the photos himself. You looked so sweet, so happy, and alive. Nothing like you did now, with your dead-tired eyes and permanent scowl. He knew what happened to you in vague terms, the jail sentence and the subsequent assassin position. He jumped to the conclusion that this dimensions version of him was a stupid fuck up who didn't put a ring on it, and couldn't protect you from the world. He'd given up on you like a fool. But it was lucky for him, he supposed. He knew for sure now, despite your denials of his love, you could and would love him back. One day.

        "We were friends." You lie back, "He was just affectionate-"

        "Friends?" Mohawk cackles, "Yeah, cuz I tongue-fuck all my homies. Really, babe? I thought you'd come up with something better than that. What? Are you embarrassed?" Clearly, you were. "Cuz you kept alllll these pictures after he broke up with you?" It's a guess but dead on. 

        The quiet rage is confirmation enough. 

        There is a collective internal glow of pride in everyone. You were in love with him at some point. Some part of you kept the evidence. You could love him back, the collective thought. Save for Tracksuit and Maskless, who were both thinking this was a little much. Who both felt bad for you. Who both knew they'd rip Mohawk's skin off if they were in your shoes, but make no move to do so.

        Mohawk didn't know when to stop, slinking forward to get in your face. "Aww, baby... Are you still in love with him? That's so stupid and sad."

        "Punch yourself in the balls. Hard as you can."

        You feel a rush of air and he's on the floor, writhing, clutching his family jewels, tears pricking the edges of his eyes before you can process your nose starting to bleed. You wobble on your feet, avoiding Baldie's balancing touch. You turn to Omni with Gray hovering behind him. Feeling things he couldn't truly explain.

        You say, "Crush it." Before you consider that you'd need the flashlight.

        Glass and metal splinter to the ground. Omni opened his hand, impressed you controlled him like that, but he doesn't think it'll happen again. Blood is coming out your nose in thick drops now. You wipe them away with the back of your hand. Head starting to throb as you walk slow, purposeful back to Mohawk. Still groaning. 

        You kneel. Everyone falling away but the two of you. Him in sweet, glorious pain, and you high off his agony. "You wanna know who gave me that name so bad?" His face is to the ground, trying to hide how much it hurts like the tough guy he is. You grab his hair in your fist, pulling his head up easily because despite everything, he'd always melt in to your touch. "You did." 

        They want answers so bad- they'll get 'em. 

        "My boss Machine Head, that robo-dick I murdered- he took it and ran with it because it upset me. You said I was the dregs of society- something stupid like that- and left me to rot. He thought it was so funny Dregs, his de facto murder-torture guy, isn't that nice? I was his favorite, you know? Machine Head always had these fucked up requests and I'd do it because I didn't care. I knew he wouldn't check, not because he trusted me, but because he knew I had nothing else. One guy, I made him skin himself alive with a potato peeler. Got pretty far before his body shut down. Another, I made him choose who to shoot first, his wife or his mistress- they both died, yeah, but man, him turning on his wife like that? Crazy." You didn't mean to ramble but you were. You were just so pent-up and angry, that a reminder of your Mark, the life you could've had, had you unwinding yard by yard. It was easy letting their flawed logic win for once, and it felt damn good. They had hurt you. 

        "I could've been something. When I met Cecil, he wanted me to work for him. Mark could've made that happen, but he let me fuck around New York murdering people for some drug-running robot dickhead." Mohawk's eyes began to clear of pain. Were rapt on you and your anger and how transparently awful you were. "I loved him so much, and now-" He's looking at you like he loves you and you hate it; say the nastiest thing you can think of, "If I ever get back, I'm killing his family, starting with that dumb bitch Eve. So no, you stupid motherfucker, I'm never going to love you and I'm never letting you fuck me." 

        You stand, emboldened by the silence. "Any more questions?" You only look at Mohawk. Curled, clutching his balls, but slowly, purposefully smiling at you.        

        "I think that about covers it." He says, voice weedy. 

        "Can you do me next?" Lensless asked.

        You were sapped of power. Couldn't if you wanted to. You also shouldn't, he'd cum but still, he'd hurt and you wanted them all to hurt. You say nothing, gather up a premade torch. Held it out to Tracksuit to light with friction- much quicker than the fire that didn't much like damp-ish cloth. He does, no questions asked. He'd also want to take a hike after all that. 

        You picked a cave and started. Not before saying, "Fuck you all."

        Then you were off. You don't let yourself stop and cry until you were triple sure you were out of hearing range. Even then, you go further, further, until your torch burnt down to the quick and singed your hand. You drop it, clasping the skin, crumbling to the ground as the first angry tears sprang forth. 

        You hated them. You wanted them to die but you needed them to survive. Why couldn't they just be normal? Couldn't they understand you were a different person? And now they knew your dirty secret. Sure to hold it over your neck like a guillotine.  

        You'd scream but they'd hear. Come running. Come mocking. So you sob as quietly as you can into your hands. 

        "I'm sorry he did that to you." He says. 

        You jump. Grab the smoldering remains of the torch off the ground and throw it at the voice, despite how it burns your hand. "Go away!"

        The torch bounced off Baldie's chest, fell to the ground, all light dead on impact. 

        "I know you're upset but..." He knows Phantom is near. Lurking. Can hear his mostly disguised breathing. He'd left after you when the bickering fizzled and Lensless and Scars left out of boredom. Phantom followed because he knew- Baldie had made up his mind.

        "Upset? I'm not upset!" You forcefully rub at your cheeks. "This is nothing."

        He frowns, though you can't see it. "I have something to show you."

        "I don't care." You say. "I don't want to see anything that isn't Mark's dead body. Okay? Just-" You take a wobbly breath, "Fuck off. I can't do this anymore."

        The admission almost pulls a sob out of you, and you have to fight to hold it in.

        "I know," it's soft, "I know, that's why I need to show you. You don't have to see any of them."

        You're fighting to hold in sobs, barely processing what he says, "Please. Just go." 

        "(Y/n) I-"

        "Die." You splutter without power, "Just drop dead or go away. I'm done." Soon as the words come out your hands go to your head. You almost did it again. You didn't want him to die, not really. 

        The sobs come harder. You're hysterical. Soon to crack and scream and then he wouldn't be alone with you anymore.

        He scoops you up in his arms. Apologizing, keeping his grip gentle as possible as he flew deeper into the caves. Back to the hidden entrance he'd visited and re-visited since Phantom told him of its existence. You beat your fists against his chest, his neck, his face, but he couldn't be angry at you. He was angry at them for making you feel so low.

        He doesn't speak as he moves the rock, floating inside, and sealing the tomb behind you both. He sees Phantom's silhouette as the rock slid flush to the wall. An agreement passed quietly between them.

        You heard movement, unable to place the exact sound. Like Styrofoam peanuts squeaking past one another. But there was no way there'd be Styrofoam peanuts here. You blink, looking around but seeing nothing in the absolute dark. The air felt different here, wetter, smelling of sod and sulfur. 

        "One sec." He said, floating down to the ground with the least amount of creepy-crawlies. In the times he'd come back, he started the beginnings of a camp. Stole away supplies from Gray's material cache to make your own cots. Picked a spot a few feet up from the bug rivers where you could watch but be in no danger if you decided to hop down and explore.

        He clacked two rocks together. Sparks rained as the fire pit he'd built lit. He blew, added more kindling from the pile he'd prepared, nurtured the fire in a matter of milliseconds. The light illuminated the cavern around you, but your eyes could barely process what you were seeing. 

        You were beside her, yards away. Sat in a high chair at her bug court. The massive white thing that was some mutated sand-mite-termite-whatever-the-fuck queen. She did not notice or care about the fire. Did not mind your sudden presence. Her mandibles twitched as her children flitted in and out of her mouth. 

        "What the fuck?"

        Your brain doesn't even think of food. Water. Too stuck on the giant bug. But you know what it means, these are the first living creatures you'd seen since arriving over three weeks ago. 

        "We can stay here." He says soft behind you, sure to give plenty of space for you to process. "We have everything we need." You don't reply, jaw dropped open, taking in the sight. The bugs skittering in and out of their dens set into the walls. "You don't have to go back and deal with them ever again."

        It's like a dream come true. Too good to be true.

        You don't feel yourself speak. "They'll come looking."

        "They haven't found this place yet and if we stay quiet, they won't. But I'll be honest, I didn't find this place myself. Someone else did."

        You turn, eyes wide, "Who?" God, don't say Scars. Don't say Lensless.

        "He wants to tell you himself." He knew it'd matter to you who it was, but Phantom asked him not to tell. He was cagey about why. "But he's helping us. I think tomorrow he'll stage your disappearance and join us. It's nobody bad, I promise." 

        "I-" You look back to the bugs, undulating below. None of them cared you existed. Minding their own buggy business, not begging you for sex or love or attention. If Baldie brought you here they were likely not venomous. They didn't attack or swarm or even run away. "We'll really be safe here?"

        "I'll make sure of it." He said.

        Something in you breaks. Resolve or dignity.

        Because you lunge at Baldie, tears returning. Stuff your face to his chest, arms going tight around his forearms and middle. The hopelessness that'd become a part of your everyday slowing leaching out in his hold. 

        "Thank you, thank you, thank you," it's muffled against his chest. His arms wriggle easily out of your hold and drape over your back. He pulls you closer, inhaling your scent, feeling your skin, and is at peace.

        "It's alright, I've got you."

[afroslacks]

Don't Copy My Work 😐

Excuse any grammar mistakes and spelling I will fix it later.

I Luv Your Girl - The Dream

Modern! Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black! Reader

Elijah has always been the quiet, calm, cool, and collected type. Whether that's its actual personality or a trauma response to adolescene he endured. He's been good keeping a poker face. But, when he met you it all changed.

You're his best friend's girl. His best friend being a man named Darius. They've know each other since their early 20's and been tight ever since. Smoke has always respected and love Darius like he was his own until he fell for you.

Right now he's watching you and Darius cuddle up on the couch as everyone watches some dumb ass horror movie. He's not even paying attention to the movie but instead he sitting at the end of couch watching y'all like some stalker. "I can't look" explain as out your hands over eyes only to slowly peek from behing your hands. Darius laughs deep from within his chest to pull you closer under his shoulder "it's okay baby I know you're a scaredy cat."

At his insenstive comment you smack your lips "boy shut up you know I don't like scary movies." Smoke has always liked your honesty and fired and he considers them some the best qualities about you. He never liked women who just sat there and took anything, to him they didn't have boundaries. He wanted woman who show him something and prove him wrong.

But he also knew Darius wanted to break you down in someone nobody would recognize. He had this belief that you needed to soften up a bit and follow a man's lead to make your life easier. Maybe even smile more so you would look so angry. That's exactly why he picked this lame ass movie.

Smoke then clears his throat to let the couple know he's still here. "My bad man we forgot you were here" Darius admits as he looks over his shoulder. "Speak for yourself" You cut in "Smoke are we annoying you?" Not wanting to inapporpiate. After all he is a guess. Elijah chuckles a little bit "nah you good."

He really appreciate that you're one of the few people who refuses to allow him to fall to waist side. Because of quiet nature people often move around because he doesn't make himself known. So to know that you'll always acknowledge him at his most silent makes him want you more. He knows its wrong to want your friend but he know he can treat you better.

He clears his throat stands uo clutching his bowl of popcorn. As screams from the televison fill the room along with the sound of chainsaw. "Well it's getting late looks like I gotta bounce." He admits

It causes you to smack your lips in disappointment as you push away Darius. "What? You don't have to go I gotta spare bedroom." You suggest while Darius raises a brow as your caring nature. "Since when you have such a caring spirit?" He jokes looking between his best friend and girlfriend. "I'm not heartless its too late for him to drive." You insists holding eye contact with Smoke who hasn't looked away since.

"I don't want to interrupt" Smoke confesses don't wanting to cause a fight. You shake your head the claim if their was a fight it started because Darius was annoying the hell out her. "No you're good plus it's my house" insisting

¤¤¤¤¤

Later that night You crawl out bed leaving Darius to snore loudly in bed heaving like a dog. Since he is such a heavy sleeper.Slowly shutting the door behind you make it to the spare bedroom. You gently open the door stepping inside for closing and locking it behind you.

Elijah already awake stares at you as he sleeps shirtless with gold chain gleaming in the night from the moonlight. "Came back for more?" He asks as the blankets falls from hips exposing his abs. You exclaim heavily "I'm just making sure that we agree we aren't going to tell him anything. Smoke then climbs out of bed walks over to ypu then peers down "now why would I do that?" He rhetorrically asks he knows why but, he wants to truth to spills from your lips.

"Because it shouldn't have happened don't play dumb it ain't cute." You snap turning your nose at him with anger flaring in your eyes. Smoke scoffs nodding along "So you didn't ride me or my face until 3am a week ago." He sarcastically agrees wanting to rub it in her face. "So we didn't spend time outside of sex enjoying each other company and you didn't confess you wanted to leave him?" Your face burns as he brings up some of the best memories that you've had in a long time. The memories that you're forcing yourself to push away to be safe.

"I'm with Darius, Smoke you know you're bestfriend." Pointed out "You don't have to be, let me take care of it and you." He suggest wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You heart beating faster as you feel yourself falling again.

Smokes leans his forehead again yours. Heavy breathing between you both and you haven't done anything yet. "I want to treat you like the amazing woman that you are. Don't you want that?" He inqures staring into your eyes. Your lip quivers as you think of wonderful treatment he provided for you before "Yes." You shakily admit breathing him in.

You're of Darius and honestly you can't stand him. He does everything in his power to try to control you. He's boring and his sex game weak too. You stayed simply because you've been there for a certain amount of time.

Elijah places his hands on your cheeks pulling you into his addicting kiss. It starts innocent with a press of his lips. Then he proceeds to open you up demanding for your tongue to play.

Your hands starts towards his large back and then makes its way up to his neck. Wanting to craddle his head to yours not wanting to let go of his touch. Moments later you break apart for air and he plants kisses on your neck. Grabbing a handful of your bottom to cop a good feel of what's his.

¤¤¤¤¤

Anyways let me know what you think. Should I make part 2? I'm sorry I didn't write more its 1am and bad bitch gotta work. Bye🫠

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (6)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"It was a nice day," S says as he checks the rear view mirror.

You twitch out of your trance. Your eyes are itchy, the way they get after a double shift. You suppress a yawn and nod.

"Very nice, thank you," you agree and twiddle your fingers in your palm.

"But you're anxious to get home..." he says.

"Well....my mom..." you begin. "I'm not trying to ditch you--"

"Ha, I know. I'm selfish. I've had you all day." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Should we stop and get her something?"

"Um, that's. Mm. I'd love to but..."

"Might be suspicious. Got it." He clucks. "Well, what about tomorrow? You got plans?"

"She has an appointment," you say. "Check-up."

"Ah, makes sense," he says. "When is it? Maybe after..."

"Yeah, er maybe. But... how long are you here? What about New York?" You wonder. The big city, his company, all that is still a mystery to you.

"It can wait. Besides, the hotel has wifi. I got all night to catch up emails."

"Oh, right." You stare at the street ahead.

"Tomorrow?" He prompts before the silence drags.

"Tomorrow. After noon? Should be done by then," you assure him, twisting your fist around your finger.

"Can I ask you a favour?" He slows as he gets to your street.

"A favour?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Promise." He turns the corner and keeps a snail's pace.

"Alright," you utter.

"Will you bring a few bills tomorrow? We can go through them. Sort that out--"

"S. No. I can't--" 

"But that's the deal," he insists. "How can I help if I don't know the situation?"

"I... I don't know. It's a lot."

"A lot you shouldn't be worried about. You should be focused on your mom. Not money." He stops in front of your building. He angles in his seat and puts his hand on the back of yours. "This is what I'm here for. To take all that off your shoulders."

You exhale and swallow dryly. "It feels like too much."

"Not to me." His thumb rubs the seat, close to your shoulder. "Look, I'm just me. I got more than enough for that. I want to do this. I want someone to share this with. To spoil, if I can."

You look at him. He's too good to be true. After all the bad days, all the set backs, all the red numbers, you just can't believe it's what he says it it.

"I'll bring one," you offer.

"One?" He echoes.

"Mhmm," you nod.

"The highest one then," he says. His tone is even but demanding. 

"Okay."

"Okay," he repeats and clears his throat. "Look, sweetheart, let's not ruin the day. Go inside, spend some time with mom. I'll text you."

You chew your lip. You should tell him. It won't help if he thinks you're ignoring him.

"Maybe not." You fidget. "I'm... I'm almost out of... I uh, the internet is down and I pay per message."

"Hm, why didn't you mention it before?" He challenges.

You sink down, pushing your shoulders high. "It's embarrassing."

He sighs. 

"No problem. Tomorrow. After noon," he pats the seat and rescinds his hand. "Hope the appointment goes well."

"Me too," you murmur in dread.

You undo your seat belt and grab your purse. You sit up and glance at him. He watches you expectantly but you're not sure what he's waiting for.

"Good night," you say.

His jaw ticks, "good night, sweetheart."

You smile weakly and get out. You shut the door gently and turn to step over the curb. You march up to the front doors and peek back. You wave then go inside.

You feel bad now. Like you're abandoning him. After such a nice day, you're just strutting off without giving him anything...

Your chest knots up as you climb the stairs. It isn't just him, it's the lies. You're not sure you can keep this up but if you don't, what are you going to do? You can't pay him back and the missed hours at work won't do much to help that. And if you keep calling in, well, you might not have time to make up for what you missed.

You're confused. This was supposed to make it all easier but it all feels so much more complicated. Why can't life be as simple as the chrysalis in the hamper? 

🦋

"Will you come in with me?" Your mom asks as they call her name.

You nod and stand with her. It's not like the early days. When she went on her own. She didn't tell you the diagnoses right away. Not until the first treatment. That was a horrible day and there's been many of those since.

You follow the nurse to the sterile room. You sit in the chair in the corner and your mother sits in the chair by the small counter top. You're silent. Both anxious.

Dr. Vincent enters. You almost feel like you should stand. You cross your legs and return his greeting. It's not a very good morning but you won't say so.

"So, Noreen," he says to your mother. "I have some news."

Your mother looks at him from her chair. She looks small like a child. You've never seen her afraid but in that moment, you see her eyes gleam.

"You're a candidate for stem cell transplant." He says.

Your mom looks at you and back to him. You don't know what that means either. You remember they mentioned it early on but it never came back up.

"No more chemo. At least for now. We think this is the opportune time and it could help with recovery in the long run," he explains.

"Oh, right," she breathes. 

"We'll send you for a few scans to see how things are looking but your last images were positive."

"Uh huh, okay," she blinks. "Is it very expensive?"

He hums. "It can be. Depending on insurance. Of course, it would be my recommendation for you to go with it. Chemo is showing results but in my experience, this is the best course of action. If you wish to continue as you are, it's entirely within your discretion."

You're both quiet.

"I'll provide you some information on it before you go. How about that? Give you some time to think." He says.

"That's good," you say as your mom stays silent.

"Alright, then, we'll do the usual," Vincent diverts. "Let's get you on the bed."

You sit patiently as he checks your mother over. He's quick and efficient. He has a full waiting room, even this early in the morning. You thank him after your mother does and he leaves the room.

She steps onto the stool and down to the floor. As you approach her, she sighs. She doesn't say anything as she leads you out of the room.

As she stops at the admin desk to get the folder of pamphlets, she bids them a good day. As you come out into the gloomy of the rainy day, you take her hand. She stops and stands at the curb, looking out into the distance.

"I'm tired, pie."

"I know, mom," you say.

"What do you think?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe... we should read the stuff."

"It'll be expensive."

"It's all expensive," you mutter.

She drops her head. "My last days and I have to watch my daughter work herself half to death just to suffer more and more."

"Mom, please, he said things are looking good--"

"Maybe but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

You swallow as your eyes burn. "It's... it's your choice. Always your choice." You look away, trying not to cry.

"Honey," she squeezes your hand. "I don't want to give up. I know you won't, either, but you're tired too. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Mom," is all you can eke out.

She lets go of you and looks at the folder. She exhales. "I'll read it over."

"We'll read it together," you offer. 

"When's work?" She wonders.

"Noon," you answer. Not work, per se. Just an obligation.

"Enough time for breakfast," she says. "My treat."

"Mom," you say.

"I know, I know. But I just want one last cinnamon bun before I go," she insists.

🦋

You're trembling. You haven't been able to stop since you left the apartment. You couldn't let your mom see the panic. She's already having a rough day.

You stand under the awning of the building, waiting. S drives up and you run out without pulling up your jacket hood. You feel in your pocket for the pamphlet.

You get in the car and flick the moisture from your cheeks. You gasp. "It's really coming down."

"You don't have an umbrella?" S says.

"Forgot," you shrug.

"Mm, well, looks like a day best spent inside. I was thinking, they got pretty good food at my hotel. We could have lunch."

You hesitate. The thought of his hotel room makes your stomach stir. You remember what he said. 'We'll see where it goes'. It's feeling more and more like there's only one way this goes.

"Sure, whatever you like." You sniff.

You buckle up and sit back. You tilt your head up.

"Long morning?" He asks as he pulls into the street.

"Yeah... a little."

"Bad news?" He asks cautiously.

"Mm, news... stuff to think about."

"Right," he steers on as the wipers swing back and forth. "Well, just relax. Once we get to the hotel, you can get dry and clear your head."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You close your eyes, content to let the rain and the motion soothe you. It's a moment to prepare yourself.. Maybe once you tell him, he'll change his mind.

When the car stops, you snap up as if you were sleeping. Your mind slows as the world does the same. S smiles at you and reaches behind your seat. He grabs an umbrella out of the back.

He gets out, shielding himself from the downpour, and comes around to open your door. He walks you up to the hotel doors and folds up the umbrella before he enters the lobby. He points you to the elevators.

"Got some work done this morning," he proclaims as you get on. "You were asking about my company."

"Oh, right. I was. Curious, I guess. I don't know anyone who owns one."

"You do now," he chuckles. "It's not as glamourous as it seems. This is as much time as I've had to myself in... a decade?"

"Really?"

"Not to complain. I mean, certain things I don't have to worry about. It's not a bad life. Solitary," he shrugs and the doors open.

He guides you along the hallway to his suite door. He lets you in ahead of him. He puts the umbrella in the tall vase by the door.

You unzip your jacket and hang it. You look down at your jeans. They're soaked. You rub the damp fabric.

"I got a spare robe in here, if you want to let those dry," he says.

"Sure, uh, probably," you agree.

He takes off his shoes and you step out of your boots. You linger by the door, shyly glancing into the suite. He stands up and combs his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get the room service menu," he grins and struts away. "Make yourself at home."

As he looks around, you reach into your jacket pocket. You hide the pamphlet behind your back, clasping your wrist tight, and tiptoe further inside. He waves the laminated menu at you.

"Right here," he puts it on the small round table between two chairs. "I'll get that robe."

"Sure."

You wait, reluctant at the edge of the sitting room. A couch and a clamshell chair in velvet. It's all so nice.

He comes back in.

"If you want to change before you make up your mind--"

"Uh huh, yeah."

You keep the pamphlet behind you and take the robe. He points you to the bathroom and you scurry into it. You lock yourself inside and strip off the wet jeans. The texture leaves your skin itchy. Ugh.

You hang them on the bar meant for towels and pull on the robe. It's soft and roomy. You tuck the pamphlet into the pocket and face the door.

You emerge as S sits at the table. You walk carefully, paranoid that the robe might fall open despite the tight knot around the middle. You sit down and lean over to read the menu. It's a good distraction.

"I recommend the mac and cheese, as simple as it sounds," he taps with his finger.

"Oh, I like mac and cheese," you say.

You continue your perusal. You'll probably just go with what he says. Your appetite is lost in the storm of your inside.

"So, uh, did you bring that bill?"

You sit up stiffly and blink at him. Your hand goes to the pocket of the robe. You gape at him. How do you do this?

"We can wait--"

"No, I can't. Not-- no. Because..." you stammer as your heart races. "Because it's... it's too much and... you can say no and... I'll be okay. My mom will be okay. I'll figure it out. I will."

"Woah, woah, sweetheart," he gets up and comes around the table. He gets down to his knees as he puts his hands on your arms, his thumbs caressing you. "It's alright. I asked you to--"

"No, no," you jitter as you reach in the pocket and slide out the pamphlet, slightly damp from the rain. "It's... it's more... it's..." you look down at the paper as you clutch it in your hands. "The doctor said it will be good but..."

He drags his hands down your arms to your hands. He eases the pamphlet free. He sits back on his heels and opens it. He reads it over as you cover your face.

"I think I should go--"

"I can do it," he says calmly. "One hundred? Easy."

"One hundred thousand!" You drop your hands. "S!"

"It's just money. This isn't about that. It's about your mom, isn't it?"

You stare at him. You don't understand how he can be so generous. It's just take, take, take, and you have nothing to give. And the more he gives, the more you depend on it. The hole only gets deeper and deeper.

[lampridius]

hihii!! may i request anaxa and sunday with a reader who likes putting up fronts? like they would constantly play these roles with vast personalities, put on masks, copy/mirror other’s mannerisms, till the point they don’t even know who they are anymore or their “true self” is? sorry if this doesn’t make sense >_<

🎭 anon

𝙃𝙎𝙍 𝙈𝙀𝙉 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙋𝙐𝙏𝙎 𝙊𝙉 𝘼 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙆 ᯓ★ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀: anaxa, sunday ᯓ★ rules | masterlist | 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 ᯓ★ 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ᯓ★ 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀:

#𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗫𝗔

he picks up on it pretty fast - not because he’s offended, but because he knows the game.

you're a different person around everyone. loud and dramatic with one group, quiet and perceptive with another. even around him, you shift. sometimes you're flirty, sometimes aloof, sometimes overly agreeable in ways that feel just a bit too practiced. it’s like you’ve memorized entire personas and swap them in depending on who you’re speaking to.

most people wouldn’t notice. anaxa does.

he doesn’t call you out right away. he watches. listens. and when you’re quiet - when you finally let the performance drop for even a second - he slips beside you with this low, thoughtful hum.

“do you ever wonder who you'd be if you weren’t trying to be so many things at once?”

you tense up. a mask almost clicks into place, but he lifts a hand - easy, no pressure - and adds, “don’t give me a rehearsed answer. i'd prefer if you give me nothing at all, if that’s easier.”

he isn’t pushing. he’s just there. he doesn’t need a grand confession, or for you to tear yourself apart trying to be honest when even you aren’t sure what that means anymore. he just wants to see the version of you that’s not trying so hard.

sometimes, when you’re tired, when your face hurts from smiling and your voice doesn’t sound like your own anymore, you sit with him in silence.

he likes that version. the one that slouches a little, whose hands fidget with fabric threads, who sighs without having to explain why.

and he’ll keep showing up for that person, over and over. even if they don’t know who they are yet.

#𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬

he’s soft in ways most people don’t expect - cerebral, almost dreamy, but sharp enough to see through the cracks.

when he watches you shift and adjust in every room you walk into - your voice morphing, your body language echoing whoever you’re with - he doesn’t see dishonesty.

he sees someone exhausted.

you joke about it sometimes. how good you are at fitting in. how people always seem to like you. but there’s a hollowness behind it. sunday hears that too.

and one day, when the two of you are walking quietly through a garden or a hallway or some quiet, glass-and-gold room filled with nothing but sun and dust motes, he finally says:

“you don’t have to prove you belong to anyone. not with me.”

you blink. the words hit something raw.

he tilts his head gently toward you. “and you don’t have to disappear into everyone you meet, either. you’re allowed to just be. even if you don’t know what that is right now.”

his tone isn’t pitying. it’s inviting. not trying to strip your masks away, but offering a space where you might set one down - just for a minute.

when you ask, quietly, “what if there’s nothing underneath?”, he only smiles. small and certain.

“then we’ll build it together.”

he doesn’t flinch when you’re inconsistent. doesn’t correct you when your personality slides from one edge to the next. he just keeps showing up, offering softness without condition.

and maybe - just maybe - being seen like that is the first real thing you’ve felt in a while.

©𝗖𝗢𝗣𝗬𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ● @lampridius 2025

[ineedpaigebuckets]

more than a mistake

paige x reader

synopsis: they meet at a bar, your boyfriends off with some girl- so paige lets you know what it's really like, and at a party the next week, you get to return the favor

an: like smut ISH but like not really just like buildup i guess

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

you didn’t want to come out tonight.

but your boyfriend insisted. “it'll be fun,” he said. “we need a night out,” he said. little did you know there was no "we" it was just him.

so now he’s at the other end of the bar, practically drooling over some blonde in a miniskirt, while you’re standing here with an empty drink, your arms crossed, your jaw locked.

you don’t even realize someone’s next to you until she speaks.

“he's not even subtle about it.”

you turn. it's a girl—tall, confident, jeans that actually fit, one hand wrapped around a glass of something dark. paige bueckers, you know her, or know of her, of course you do- everyone does. she's watching your boyfriend with a smirk like she’s seen this scene play out a hundred times and already knows the ending.

you raise an eyebrow. “excuse me?”

“he's trying to impress her with that laugh,” she says, nodding toward him. “the one that sounds like a dying dolphin? classic.”

you blink. the , involuntarily, you laugh- a real laugh, unlike his.

she looks at you for the first time- and she really looks at you- and it’s like her gaze rakes over every inch of you in one slow, unapologetic sweep.

“not to be rude,” she adds, “but what the hell are you doing here with that when you could be doing… literally anything else?”

your mouth opens. “wow. uhm- ”

“too much?” she says, sipping her drink, completely unbothered. “i can dial it back.”

you don’t want her to dial anything back, not one bit.

you glance toward your boyfriend. he's still not looking for you, not even noticing that you now have your own blonde on your arm.

you look back at her. she hasn’t stopped watching you. it's not subtle. her eyes drop to your lips, your collarbone, your waist. they linger.

you feel heat crawl under your skin.

“you always like this?” you ask.

she shrugs. “only when i know i'm right.”

you roll your eyes, but your pulse betrays you.

“let me guess,” you say. “you're gonna tell me i deserve better or some shit.”

“no,” she says. “i was gonna tell you i am better. at least in the ways that matter right now.”

your stomach tightens. you shouldn’t like how that sounds.

but you do.

she tilts her head, voice low now. “you want it- i can see it in those pretty eyes of yours.”

you don’t answer.

she leans a little closer. “he doesn’t know you, does he?”

you inhale, sharp. “you don’t know me either.”

she smiles, slow and sure. “i know how you’re looking at me right now.”

you hate that she’s right.

you hate how your skin is buzzing, how your legs feel a little too warm, how you’re already imagining what her hands might feel like on your skin.

she watches you for a second. “i'll say it plain, since you don’t seem like the type to play games- i want to fuck you.”

your breath catches.

“and i think you want to let me.”

you swallow hard. you look away- once- toward your boyfriend still pretending you don’t exist.

you turn back.

you don’t say yes.

but you don’t say no.

she grins. “come on,” she says. “lemme go remind you what it’s supposed to feel like.”

you follow her into the bathroom without looking back.

the door shuts behind you with a soft click.

you don’t move right away. you're standing in someone else’s space, in the middle of someone else’s night, with your breath shallow and your body already humming like it knows what’s coming.

paige just looks at you.

not like she’s waiting for you to speak. like she’s waiting for you to feel it. all of it.

and god, you do.

your chest is tight. your pulse is loud in your ears. your boyfriend has never made you feel like this- like you’re a storm, like you’re seconds from doing something you’ll never take back.

and maybe for the first time in your life, you don’t care.

she steps forward, slow and deliberate. her fingers trace the edge of your jaw. her touch is gentle, but her eyes are anything but. you feel seen, somehow. like she’s already undressed you with her eyes and she’s still not satisfied.

“you okay?” she asks, low.

“no,” you whisper before you can stop yourself.

it's not even a lie. you're not okay. you're so far from okay you don’t even know where that version of you went. you just know she doesn’t live in this body anymore.

and then paige kisses you.

no hesitation. no awkward buildup. just mouth on mouth- hot, open, and real. she kisses you like she’s starving and you’re the thing she’s been hunting for.

your knees go soft. your hands find her shoulders, her neck, her hair- you don’t know what you’re holding onto, only that you need to hold onto something.

she walks you backward until your spine hits the wall. her hands are under your shirt, then lifting it up. she strips you slow, like she wants to remember the look on your face when each piece comes off.

and you let her.

you're not thinking. you're just feeling. and for the first time you feel free.

she pulls her shirt off, and it’s not like the movies. it's not choreographed or slow motion. it's fast and greedy and honest. her skin is warm, her mouth hotter, her breath against your throat enough to make you whimper.

you've never made that sound before.

when she drops to her knees, your heart stutters.

“wait,” you breathe, unsure if you’re trying to stop her or just catching your breath.

she looks up at you, steady. “we can stop.”

you shake your head. “that's not-.”

she just waits, still holding your hips, her thumbs brushing the bare skin there like she’s reminding you you’re real.

“i've never—” you start, then stop. you can’t finish that sentence. you don’t even know what the end of it is.

never wanted someone like this.

never needed someone like this.

never looked at another girl and thought, i want her to break me open.

paige leans in and presses a kiss to your stomach. “let me make you feel good.”

you nod.

she does.

she pulls your panties to the side, underneath four skirt that's hiked up your stomach, and she requires your entire brain.

her mouth is sin and salvation. every flick of her tongue, every slow, deliberate movement, every sound you make- she drinks it in like proof. you lose yourself in it. you stop thinking completely. you forget your own name.

and when you come- loud and shaking, thighs clenching around her- you cry out hers.

you feel wrecked. and remade. and fucking perfect.

when she finally pulls back, your chest is heaving. your hands are still in her hair, and your brain is a blur of what the fuck was that and do it again.

she climbs back up your body, her lips brushing yours again. you kiss her like you’re drowning. her hands fix your outfit without even thinking, lips not hesitating to stay against yours.

“i don’t know what just happened,” you whisper into her mouth.

she just smiles, breathless. “it's okay. you don’t have to know yet.”

you stare at her, dazed. “i didn’t think i could feel like that.”

she presses her forehead to yours. “that's ’cause no one ever wanted to make you feel like that.”

and you know she’s right.

you let out a shaky laugh, still half-drunk on the feeling. “you're dangerous.”

“i know,” she says, kissing you again, softer this time.

you don’t know what this is.

but for once, you want to find out.

you don’t say much afterward.

you slowly fix yourself up. neither of you rushes, but neither of you lingers either. there's a strange silence- not uncomfortable, just sharp. like the air between you is still hot, still buzzing, and neither of you knows what to do with it.

you glance at her while fixing your hair in the mirror by the door. she's sitting on the edge of the toilet, one leg bounced over and over, shirt rumpled, still looking at you like she knows exactly how you taste and how you look when you fall apart.

you hate how much you like that.

“i should go,” you say, not quite looking at her.

paige doesn’t move. “right. boyfriend.”

you flinch a little, but she says it without judgment. just fact.

“he's probably wondering where i am.”

paige tilts her head. “is he?”

you shoot her a look. she smirks like she knows she’s getting under your skin and doesn’t plan on stopping.

“you don’t have to explain,” she adds. “i know.”

but something in the way she says it makes your chest tighten. like maybe you both don’t know. not really.

you nod, trying to shake it off. “still. i should go.”

she walks you the extra 3 steps to the door. you're halfway through it when you hesitate- hand still on the handle, brain scrambled, heart pounding with something that feels suspiciously like regret.

“i'm going to this party next week,” you say, casual. too casual.

paige raises an eyebrow. “you are?”

“yeah. a few friends. just a small thing.”

she leans against the doorframe. “you inviting me?”

you shrug. “if you want.”

she grins, just a little. “i want.”

you look at her for a second longer than you should. you're already picturing her showing up. you're already thinking about what you’ll wear, what you’ll say, what you won’t say. you're already fucked.

“give me your number,” you say, pulling out your phone.

she taps it in without hesitation. her name appears on your screen- just Paige, no emoji, no last name. but the weight of it is enough.

“text me,” she says, voice low, right before you leave. “or don’t. but i think you’ll want to.”

you want to.

you leave anyway.

next thing you know, you're at some random apartment, the music is loud, but not too loud- someone’s shitty bluetooth speaker on the counter blaring early 2000s throwbacks, and there’s half a case of white claws on the kitchen table. you recognize maybe five people. you smile at none of them.

because paige is here.

she showed up like she wasn’t sure she would- hands in her pockets, calm, unreadable- but the second she saw you, something in her face softened. you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath until then.

and now, hours later, you’re still pressed to her side on the couch like it’s the only place in the world you want to be.

because it is.

you broke up with your boyfriend this morning. it wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t even a fight. you just said, i'm done, and he said, figures, and that was it.

you haven’t let go of paige since she walked through the door.

she hasn’t seemed to mind.

she's got one arm draped over the back of the couch, and you’re tucked under it, knees pulled up, leaning into her like gravity decided you belong there.

“you okay?” she murmurs into your hair.

you nod. then shake your head. “no idea.”

she chuckles. her fingers brush the curve of your arm. it's a small touch, but it makes your stomach flip.

“i feel like an idiot,” you admit. “you're barely touching me and i'm already half obsessed or something.”

paige glances at you. her smile flickers. “only half?”

you groan and hide your face against her shoulder.

she smells like clean skin and something vanilla. you want to crawl inside her shirt and stay there.

“i'm being clingy,” you mutter. “you can tell me to back off.”

“i could,” she says. “but i'm not gonna.”

you lift your head, just a little. her hand brushes your thigh. not sexual, just warm. steady.

“i keep thinking about that night,” you say, voice lower now, more careful. “what you did. how i felt.”

a pause.

“and?”

you look at her fully now. her eyes are on you, wide open. she's not teasing. she's not smug. she's just waiting.

“i want to make you feel like that.”

paige's breath catches.

you sit up a little straighter, shift closer, your hand trailing along the inside of her arm. your fingers slide under the hem of her shirt. just barely.

“i want to know what your face looks like when you fall apart,” you whisper. “i want to hear how you sound when you stop pretending nothing gets to you.”

her eyes darken. Her throat bobs. “you sure?”

“no” you say. “but i still want to.”

she kisses you- hard and fast this time, like she’s surprised by it, like she couldn’t not do it. and then you’re tugging her hand, leading her down the hall into the first empty room you can find, heart pounding, skin burning.

you push her down onto the bed.

and you take your time.

you kiss every inch of her like a map you’re learning by heart. you get her shirt off and your mouth on her chest, her stomach, the soft inside of her thighs. you don’t stop until she’s gasping, arching, gripping the sheets like she’s trying to keep from flying apart.

you watch her come with wide eyes, stunned at how much it does to you.

after, she pulls you down beside her, cheeks flushed, hair messy.

“i underestimated you pretty girl,” she says, breathless.

you grin. “good.”

you're both still half-naked, half buzzed, laying on your sides, noses almost touching.

“can i ask you something?” she says.

“yeah?”

paige hesitates. then, carefully, "go out with me. like… really. not just this. not just—” she gestures vaguely to the bed, to the party beyond the door, “whatever this is.”

you blink.

“i want to take you to dinner,” she adds, quieter now. “hold your hand and take you somewhere we don't have to sneak off to. be the person you don’t have to hide.”

your heart does something weird in your chest. like it’s trying to fold into itself.

you nod before you even realize you’re doing it. “okay.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you say, and you kiss her again.

and it feels less like a mistake this time.

more like something you've been looking for your whole life and just now found.

[sinsxo]

if it means i can stay. —nagi seishiro

synopsis. somewhere between the shared moments and playful routines, there's a truth he never dares to speak. he holds back — because if it means he can stay, he’ll never let it slip.

cw. headcanons, best friend!nagi x fem!reader, bittersweet angst, angst with soft moments

wc. 452 words, not proofread.

best friend!nagi who never texts you beforehand, just shows up at your door with a knock and his nintendo switch.

best friend!nagi who can’t explain why he’s always drifting toward your house on weekends — it just feels better there (even though it’s a hassle to come over).

best friend!nagi who always says “too much effort” when you ask if he wants to go out, but five minutes later he’s pulling on a hoodie and grabbing his keys.

best friend!nagi who lets you braid his hair or paint his nails when you're bored, mumbling that it's a hassle but never pulling away.

best friend!nagi who listens to you ranting about anything and everything, just sitting there in silence. he doesn’t join you, but he keeps a mental note so he can shoot anyone you rant about a nasty glare if he sees them around.

best friend!nagi who lets you eat his food without complaining but will deadpan “rude” if you take the last bite.

best friend!nagi who always reads and replies to your messages instantly, even though he leaves everyone else on read.

best friend!nagi who never used to care about birthdays, but always remembers yours — showing up with something handmade and awkwardly wrapped.

best friend!nagi who doesn’t say he misses you. he just texts “wanna play?” at 1am and waits for you to log on.

best friend!nagi who doesn’t understand why his chest feels tight when you cancel on him to hang out with someone else. or why he stares at your contact name a little longer these days.

best friend!nagi who doesn’t realise he had feelings for you until he’s helping you bake a cake for someone else, his heart strangely heavy. but he doesn’t stop whisking the batter anyway, because you looked happy.

best friend!nagi who never really thought much about love — not until someone else started making you smile the way he thought only he could.

best friend!nagi who watches you fall for someone else and thinks, it's fine, it's fine, it's fine. because if you're happy, then he doesn't really need to be. right?

best friend!nagi who tells you, “it’s alright,” when you ask if it’s okay to skip game night for your new partner.

best friend!nagi who replies “nah, too much effort” when you ask if he’s seeing anyone — even though he knows there’s only one person he wants, and they’re already looking elsewhere.

best friend!nagi who can live without being your favourite, but not without being your friend.

best friend!nagi who hides his feelings if it means he could stay. because the thought of not being in your life at all scares him more than never being loved back.

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[coca-lastic]

How would BNHA characters resolve arguments?

Part 1: Takami Keigo (Hawks)

I'm back!!!! Thanks for the support on my fics, I love youuuu!!!

As I always say, English isn't my first language, so please let me know if I have any spelling mistakes :)

Keigo works A LOT, and it's not like he really has much of a choice, he'd love to be able to sleep for a whole day, watch a few movies with you, read an entire book in a day, play a game on the hardest difficulty until he gets sick of it, or just fuck you until neither of you can take it anymore.

But, this is almost never the case, in fact, you can count on one hand the amount of times Keigo has been off work for more than 2 days, and probably 99.99% of it is because Keigo got sick, so it doesn't really count as a break or vacation.

And you always try to understand, you really do, but sometimes you feel like Keigo just puts work above you, and maybe it's your insecurities making you see something that's not true, but it still hurts when you call his number and he doesn't answer, or when you wait up late until you can't keep your eyes open anymore, only to hear Keigo arrive two hours later so tired and hurt that he's not even able to give a kiss.

The thing is, even though you understand, you're also tired of always understanding and understanding and understanding, so one day, when Keigo has the day off because his agency is celebrating an anniversary, you just explode. Because you had planned a nice time off, some decorations and freshly prepared food for your boyfriend, all of that for everything to be ruined when he received a call informing him that there was going to be a meeting with another agency that was of utmost importance.

And Keigo left, because what else can he do? Work is what he was raised and trained to do, so if they call him he's already on his way. But no you, you weren't raised or trained to handle that, so today you stayed up until Keigo arrived to have a talk with him, so you made yourself a coffee to stay awake, went to the living room cabinet, turned on the TV and waited while watching a movie.

After a few hours you heard a creak on the balcony and saw him walk through the door.

"Hi babe, what are you doing up so late?" He said as he took off his jacket and walked over to kiss you.

But no.

No.

You weren't in the mood for that.

Seeing how you took a step back Keigo tilted his head a little as he watched you in confusion. "Something's wrong love?"

"What do you think?"

You could tell the exact moment Keigo tensed up. He knew from your tone and posture that something was up. The thing is he didn't know what, and it was exactly what you were asking.

"...Did I need to get you something or something like that?" No answer. "Love, is it because of dinner yesterday? I know it wasn't my best creation but..." Still no answer, and it seemed like he was starting to get frustrated by the way he saw you. "Love..."

"Try again, since you're so important and needed by everyone, you should be able to guess what's bothering your girlfriend, right? Or maybe you know better about what worries everyone except what worries your partner" You said with a frown and a cold and hurtful tone. It was meant to make him feel bad, because you were already tired of understanding.

"Love... If it's because of work, you- well, I... you know it's not easy but-"

"Is it easier to leave me hanging every time I try to plan something for us? Wow, thanks for showing me your priorities" You said with sarcasm and a fake laugh, as you turned around and headed to the room, you realized that if you continued you would cry, because you weren't as strong as you wanted to pretend, you couldn't understand as much as you wanted to.

"Love, please" You heard him say behind you, and you could hear a bit of desperation and tiredness in his voice, and it made sense, it was the only day of vacation he had been given in months and it was ruined, he was obviously tired. And normally you would reason and hug him until he fell asleep, but this time your own pain didn't allow it.

It wasn't so much that he worked hard, you knew he did it for a good purpose and, although sometimes you didn't understand how he managed to do everything, he always made sure to keep you cared for, loved and pampered. But it hurt you that they took him away from you every time you managed to have him in your arms.

Then, you saw how the door to the room closed in front of you before you could get in thanks to one of Keigo's feathers.

"Baby, listen to me before you lock yourself in our room, please" but you didn't turn around, you didn't try to open the door either since you knew that with just a feather Keigo could defeat you if he wanted to. "I know you had plans for today and, believe me, I was also looking forward to eating your food while we watched that series and believe me, when I received that call, I was about to throw the phone out the window, but I can't. You know I can't" He said as he tried to approach you and hug you. But you took a step back, pressing yourself against the door. And what he said made sense, but you still couldn't say it. "Please..., you know I love you"

And you loved him too, a lot.

But you also loved yourself, and you understood that even though he had things to do, so did you, and yet you still put the relationship first. Always finding time to share together, always comforting him after work hours, always there.

But you were sick, hurt, and tired of the fact that while you were always there, he was there sometimes.

"Keigo, I understand that you have to work, I understand that it's important to you, I understand that you can't spend that much time with me. But I'm sure that if one damn day you left work a little earlier or assigned extra tasks to your assistants instead of doing it yourself, you could be with me. But you don't, because your heroism is worth more."

Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes, but you didn't want to let them fall. No, you wanted Keigo to see that you were steadfast, that it hurt, but you wouldn't let it break you.

"Open the door, Keigo." You looked him straight in the eyes so he could see you weren't up for games or talks.

He stared back at you for a few seconds. You could see his realization at how hurt you were, and also his regret, but that wasn't enough, not anymore.

He opened the bedroom door, letting you in. And, even though he wanted to sneak you inside, you closed the door before he could. However, his voice echoed through the door. "Love... Look, I understand if you don't want to talk right now, but... I love you, okay? I don't want you to doubt it." You heard his footsteps walking away, probably toward the guest room. You weren't going to deny that his words helped you a little, but you needed more than words this time.

And Keigo knew that. So while he slept, he started thinking about what he could do.

He didn't want to lose you. Even if you didn't realize it, you're the most important thing to him. Hell, sometimes even he's surprised that his heart can love someone so much.

Too bad neither he nor his heart know how to show it.

The next day you woke up to the smell of pancakes, which you didn't expect since Keigo was working today. So unless someone came into your house exclusively to cook (something you wouldn't really complain about), Keigo stayed home. The thought brought comfort to your heart, which had been aching all the time the day before. But it still hurt that he only did it once you exploded, and not before.

As you left the room, you started to hear Keigo's voice. He seemed to be on the phone and a little agitated. As you got closer, you could make out his words better.

"No, no, those work hours are over. I need Tuesdays off... Yeah, well, there are other heroes, boss... I don't care, I'm not going to do it."

Seeing Keigo upset wasn't common. And after hearing the word "Boss" and realizing who he was talking to, you started to get a little worried.

'He'll leave again.' 'He's going on a mission.' 'I'll be alone.'

"I'm busy right now, Boss, and I'm not going to change my mind... Yeah, yeah, I'll be there tomorrow," he continued into the phone. Then he hung up and sighed.

You didn't know what the call was about, but it obviously wasn't a very pleasant one. Normally, you'd go hug him and ask him to tell you what's going on. But not today.

You walked closer to the kitchen, where Keigo was flipping a pancake, his posture tense and his brow furrowed.

"What time are you going to work?"

Keigo turned around, surprised by your presence, and his sour demeanor changed to a...nervous one? Okay, that's unusual for him.

"Hey, Love, I- well, it's just that- No... I'm not going to work today."

Your face was completely surprised, not because of the day off, but because of his attitude. It was very rare to see Keigo so nervous and shy.

"Uh, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I... made breakfast." He turned around immediately to hide the blush on his face, finished serving breakfast, and gave it to you.

"Okay..." You said, looking at him suspiciously.

You sat down at the table without saying many words to your boyfriend. You were still upset, very upset. Breakfast wasn't going to change that.

However, you didn't know how far Keigo's repentant, desperate for forgiveness, version of himself could go.

But you were going to find out soon.

Keigo sat down across from you, still a little embarrassed and flushed, but he looked you straight in the eyes.

"Love... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you, and for focusing on my duty to others and not on my duty as your partner, which, even if you don't believe it right now, is 100,000 times more important to me, and I'm going to prove it to you. I swear." He paused briefly to gather his thoughts and continued. "I...can't promise you I'll be with you 24/7, although believe me I would enjoy it so fucking much. But, I want to improve, I want to be better...for you, for you to feel comfortable and happy about...about all of this, u know? so tell me what to do and I'll do it, love, I promise I will."

You looked at him and realized his desperation.

Shit, you'd forgotten how much this man loves you.

And you wanted to never forget it again.

"Remind me that you love me, Keigo. Not just with words. Prove it."

You stood up from the table, along with your plate, and headed to the kitchen to clean it without even looking at Keigo again. This time you didn't just want words; you wanted actions. And you wanted him to figure out what to do.

Oh, if only you knew that man knows every part of you. You doubted he could get anything that would make you forgive him, but he got more than that. Keigo is observant, very observant. He knows the dress you eyed a week ago while browsing an online store; he knows the restaurant you've been wanting to visit for months; he knows what makes you happy.

And he'll use all of that to get your forgiveness.

Checklist to get my girlfriend's forgiveness:

- Take her to the restaurant she wanted to try (with a private reservation)

- Give her her favorite flowers (tulips and peonies)

- Give her the dress she wanted along with a necklace.

- Remind her that you love her, don't be stupid, Keigo.

- Take her there, she'll love it.

A few minutes later.

"Love, put on the red dress you like and dress up. I want to take you somewhere."

You were lying in bed, giving Keigo the silent treatment. But you NEVER turn down a dinner date.

So you put on a dress, but not the red one. Keigo wasn't going to tell you what to do. You put on a new black dress, only to realize that, given how good it looked on you, it was probably a gift for Keigo instead of a punishment.

And you confirmed it when you left the room and Keigo stared at you for more than the seconds considered decent.

"Is it still too soon to tell you that when you forgive me you have to wear that dress?"

Your response was only a reproachful look, to which he smiled at you with false innocence.

He approached you and carefully placed a hand on your waist, expecting you to reject him, but you didn't because his compliments always makes you SO happy

"You look beautiful, love, so fucking beautiful."

"I know."

"I love you."

"Okay."

Keigo lets his head fall forward, letting out a deep, husky laugh, his hair falling a little onto his forehead. Then he brings his face down to your cheek and places a kiss.

"After today's plans, you won't be so cold anymore."

"As far as I can see, you haven't even made me leave the house, Keigo. I'm starting to get bored."

He just laughed a little and took your hand as you left the apartment.

He decided it was best to go by car so as not to ruin your hairstyle and dress; knowing you, that would only make you feel uncomfortable in the restaurant.

The closer you got to the restaurant, the more relaxed you felt. The whole way there, Keigo made sure you felt good, occasionally kissing your hand, putting his hand on your leg, complimenting you every time you moved, and telling you he loved you.

When you arrived at the restaurant and realized where your boyfriend had taken you, you could only stand in shock. You hadn't told Keigo you wanted to come, but he'd noticed.

You looked at him with shock all over your face, to which he just smiled and winked.

While he was talking to the waiter about the reservation, you couldn't stop thinking that Keigo was paying more attention to you than you thought.

"How did you know?" You said as the waiter led you to a terrace apart from the rest.

"Please, love, you liked all his posts on Instagram, it was obvious."

"Still, I didn't think you'd noticed."

He brought your hand up to his face, leaving a small kiss, "I always notice, beautiful."

When you arrived at the table, you felt like crying. The terrace was completely decorated with lights and flowers, and a slow melody played in the background.

The waiter left, and you saw a table in the center of the terrace with two wine-colored boxes on top of it: one small, like a jewelry box, and the other medium-sized.

"Keigo... What?" You looked at him with curiosity and surprise.

He gave you that shy look from the morning again, which you were starting to like a lot. "You like it?"

"Kei... do I like it? Damn, babe, it's beautiful."

His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled. "Do you want to open the presents?"

"Of course!"

You headed to the table to sit down and opened the first gift, the medium-sized one. Meanwhile, Keigo watched you. He wanted to see your reaction, wanted to imprint your beautiful face on his mind and never lose it.

When you opened it, you noticed it was the dress you'd been wanting for a while. And if there were any doubts that Keigo wasn't thinking about you, this gift erased them completely. Because you never asked him, you never even talked to him about it, and yet he knew.

"Keigo...how-" you looked at him, your eyes a little teary.

"I heard you talking to your friend from work about the dress. I thought maybe it was a good gift," he said, once again shyly.

"It's beautiful, Kei. Thank you, really," you said as you examined the dress. It was truly beautiful, both the dress and the gesture.

"Open the other one. You'll like it even more"

When you opened it, you confirmed that his words were true. It was a necklace with a watch pendant along with your initial. The necklace was made of gold/silver because he knew that was what looked best with your skin tone. Plus, underneath the necklace was a small piece of paper with a dedication.

"To the woman who deserves every second of my life."

"Oh my god, Kei... Did you- did you really do this for me?"

"Of course I did, love. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't love you enough to deserve it."

"No... you didn't... God, it's beautiful, Keigo, thank you," you said sincerely, your eyes filling with more tears, but you didn't let them fall.

His gifts had been beautiful, the place too. The food arrived a few minutes later, and it was wonderful too. Even the conversation with Keigo had been comfortable, but...

"Kei, really, thank you, love. I loved all of this, but... Fuck, it's hard to explain, but it still hurts, okay? Thanks for showing me you know me, but- I... it's been months of keeping this inside, and- I can't...i'm so sorry"

Maybe if it were someone else sitting in front of you, they would have walked away, or yelled at you, or given up, but in front of you, was Keigo.

And he just smiled, a tender, understanding smile.

"I know, I know I hurt you a lot, and I understand. But the day isn't over. There's something else I'd like to show you. I know it won't solve the whole problem, but maybe it will show you that I want to."

You were really surprised there was more. But apparently, Keigo wasn't ready to give up.

"We're going to have to fly a little bit up there, do you mind?" You shook your head quickly, not caring about your hair at this point; you wanted to see how far Keigo could go.

After paying for the food, he gently took you in his arms and began to fly. He began showing you beautiful places you didn't know could be seen so well from the sky. By now, you felt like Jasmine exploring the world with Aladdin.

"Keigo, if you let me fall, I swear I'll never forgive you." He laughed loudly and held you tighter against him.

"Relax, love, we're almost there."

You saw he begin to descend, but you couldn't understand where. From what you could see, you were relatively close to the place where he grew up and trained to become a hero, which was strange since Keigo usually avoided those kinds of places.

You looked at him strangely. "Kei...where are we going?"

"Shhh, it's a surprise, don't ruin it with your questions," he said reproachfully, but with a smile on his face.

When they landed, it was somewhere near the buildings where he grew up, but it was an area completely filled with trees and flowers. He started walking, guiding you through the small forest.

"Okay...well..." Keigo suddenly started to get nervous. "I know you don't know this place, but I used to come here when I could get away from my training or when I had days off from work... I, well—maybe it sounds a little silly, but I used to come here whenever something was happening in my life, to de-stress. I—have you heard of writing down the things you think to...I don't know, de-stress or something?"

"Yeah...I've heard of it," you said, confused. You didn't know where he was going with this.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and, with the help of his hand, removed a small bush. As he removed it, you realized it opened into a covered area with a small table, which had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the center.

"I came to this place to write about things that happened to me, usually things... well, you know my childhood wasn't the best. But when I met you, I started writing about you and how you were, the only thing I could think about." He led you closer to the table, and you noticed that from there you could see a cliff and the beautiful sunset.

Keigo extended the bouquet that had previously been on the table toward you as you moved closer to the railing that bordered the cliff.

"I brought you here because it's the place where I realized I was in love with you. It's the place where I would get away from absolutely everything and think about the person who made me and continues to make me happy."

By this moment, tears were running down your cheeks, and you couldn't believe what he was telling you.

"I'm sorry, love. You don't know how much. I'm sorry for not showing you how obsessed I am with you. I'm sorry for not giving you the time you deserve. I'm sorry for making you feel like my work matters more when I would give anything to spend my life with you."

"I know... God, I love you so much," you said, your voice breaking, your tears growing stronger.

"I love you even more. I swear I'm obsessed with you. It was in this place that I realized it, and it's in this place that I want you to realize it."

You took the flowers from his hands and held them to your chest with all the love in the world.

"I want to give you something. I want you to take it home and read it when you think you're ready to forgive me." He turned around and grabbed a wooden box hidden among the trees and the structure.

He pulled several sheets of paper out and held them out to you.

"They're from when I met you, so you can see how much I've loved you since the first second."

You looked into his eyes with wonder and love, and before you could even lock eyes, you threw yourself at him and hugged him. You needed him, you wanted him.

"Thank you, Kei, thank you."

"Thanks to you, for still being here."

You enjoyed the beautiful place until the sun set and the place, without light bulbs, began to darken.

Keigo led you to the car you 2 had left at the restaurant and then to the house.

And, even though you didn't tell him, you had already forgiven him, because he had kept his word, he had made it his goal to show you that he loves you.

And oh man, when you read those pages, you cried like a baby when you realized that the first thing he wrote about you was

"I met a girl and, God! She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, it's incredible"

And the last thing he wrote, before you started dating, was

"If she'll let me, I want to love her every second. I want to hug her, I want to kiss her, I want to touch her. I love her, so much.

If this woman doesn't drive me crazy, I don't think any other can."

[moon-fics]

Some Nights

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: During the day, the tower is filled with laughter and banter. It's a warm feeling. Until night comes and the silence is too much.

Warnings: none

A/N: This came to me during a class lecture. I physically cannot make myself write angst for him. I've tried and I just can't.

There's never a quiet moment during the day. Everyone has gotten close enough to talk regularly. There are conversations started on complete nonsense, and then there are ones about past traumas. Over time, it became natural to hear laughter or yelling every once in a while.

There'd be banging of pots and pans while Walker tried cooking. Alexei would be trying to start a dance party while everyone rolled their eyes. There were too many examples, and yet you treasured them all. It was a family you never thought you could have.

It's almost perfect. Until the night comes crawling, and suddenly the tower is dead silent. Everyone is asleep way before you. It's impossible to sleep when you're now being watched by media outlets and citizens. It's nerve-wracking to not know whether they'll accept you as Earth's heroes.

Sometimes it's unbearable to be left alone with your thoughts. However, you eventually find a solution.

-

One night, you're sneaking out of your room for some food. It's nearly 4am, and you know you should be sleeping. You convince yourself that one snack will be enough and then you can go back to bed.

You slowly open your door, and you almost expect a comically loud creak. Instead, you're met with Bob standing outside the door. His hands are playing with the hem of his shirt, and he looks like he's about to say something.

"I wasn't trying to be weird. I just saw the light under your door," He says while nodding. He has that goofy, closed smile on his lips as if that explains everything. The way your heart skips a beat is almost enough of an answer. "I was trying to gather the courage to knock."

"So, you just stood outside my door in hopes I wouldn't open it?" You ask. You raise an eyebrow at him and wonder how long he's been standing here. You didn't even hear him approach your door.

"Well, no," He starts, but cuts himself off. "Yeah. Yeah, I was just standing here." He admits with a nervous chuckle.

"Do you need something, or were you just paying a late-night visit?" You ask in hopes he'll give a better explanation. Bob isn't the best at giving details or talking about how he's feeling. It's why you often have to ask multiple questions to form a full story.

"Oh, right! I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out!" He perks up.

"It's like 4 in the morning, Bob." You say with confusion. Why was he asking to hang out this late? There's nothing they could do besides sit in her room. "You should be in bed."

You don't mean to sound harsh. You'd honestly love to spend time with him, but it's at an ungodly hour. You aren't sure if pulling an all-nighter is smart. However, you see the way his eyes soften and the corner of his lips dip down for just a second. Your snack will have to wait because he's in no state to be alone.

"Get in here," You sigh. You grab his arm and practically drag him into your room. There's not much to look at, but he still examines it as if there is. "I found an old projector that we can watch a movie on."

You were planning on watching romcoms on it, but maybe it'll have a better use with him. You carefully aim the lens at your ceiling in the center of your bed. It gives a large projection of whatever it's hooked up to. Luckily for you, you know how to get free movies and shows on your laptop.

That's how you two spend the night. Watching movies that he's never seen or comfort movies you enjoy. It becomes a regular thing, and after a few nights, you two end up falling asleep tangled in each other. It was an accident at first. You woke up with his arms around you and didn't have the heart or willpower to pull away. Eventually, you two just accepted that it was inevitable.

You have to admit, you enjoyed feeling his breathing and hearing his body. His skin was soft and lacked the scars most of the others had. It was refreshing to hold someone and understand them completely.

-

It's the second time you've chosen to watch your favorite movie. It brings a deep comfort inside you that you cannot explain. Watching it next to Bob is even better.

You're both lying on your backs while staring at the projected movie on the ceiling. There's a calm silence between you two that creates a tension that you cannot deny. Every once in a while, you'll glance over at him. His eyes are lit up by the movie, and it makes your heart swell.

At some point, he catches you staring and immediately assumes something is on his face. After clarifying that there isn't he asks why you're staring.

"I don't know. You just look happy," You explain. It's the truth, he's been looking happier. Ever since you've invited him to stay the night and relax with you, he's been brighter. The nights are no longer as hard. "I like seeing you like that."

"You make me happy." He blurts out. It's sudden, and his eyes widen. He sits up and turns from you as if he's just spilled a dirty secret. You're frozen in place, wondering what that truly meant.

"Hey, don't shy away from me." You sit up and turn to him. You can't help but let out a laugh at how he's practically shunned himself. You place your hand on his shoulder and pull him towards you. "Come on." You coo.

When he finally faces you, he's beet red. You have another round of laughter before composing yourself. Your eyes land on him, and he's frowning. He looks humiliated, and it crushes you.

"You don't need to laugh. It was stupid of me to say," He mumbles while unable to hold eye contact. His words make your skin crawl at the idea of hurting him. He thinks you're rejecting him or mocking him at least.

"No, no, I'm glad you said it." You grab his chin to force him to look at you. "You make me happy, too." You keep your voice down. It feels more intimate to say in softly than to rush it out.

His eyes brighten once again. There's uncertainty within him because for all he knows, this could mean two different things.

"Yeah, but, uhm, I feel a 'I want to kiss you' happy," He stumbles over his words while trying to explain himself. "N-not like a 'I enjoy your friendship' happy." He speaks quickly as if he's running out of time. Your hand moves from his chin to cup his cheek.

"So, kiss me," You suggest. You try to play it cool, but deep down your heart is pounding. You want more than anything for him to actually kiss you, but when he pulls away an inch, that hope flies away. "Or not. I mean, it's whatever you're comfortable with-"

You're cut off by the harsh crash of his lips against yours. It's sloppy at first, and it feels like kissing for the first time. After a few seconds, it slows down and softens. It becomes natural, and you don't want to pull away. His hands wrap around the top of your neck and reach your jaw. His fingers curl around the base of your hair as he pulls you in closer.

His lips are chapped, but they aren't rough. You can sense his need to be closer, and it's intoxicating.

He's the first to end the kiss to get air. His hands never leave their place.

"Like that?" He asks nervously. His puppy eyes are too much to bear. He's so anxious about doing it right that it only makes the moment more special.

"That was perfect." You assure him. Right after you pull him back into another kiss.

[junrenjun]

heyy lu! for my request for ur summer writing event, i would like to order smut, enhypen heeseung, prompts: 16, 33, 36, 37 & 50. For the modifiers: idol reader but they are lovers.

wishing u a happy summer!! thank you!!

that damn skirt

lee heeseung x idol!reader

wc: 929

warnings: slightly suggestive

a/n: part of my summer writing event. sorry to anon, i didn't catch the smut part of your ask until after i had written this. maybe a smutty part 2....thoughts?

prompts: "i'm always thinking about you" "that's my girl" "stop staring at me" "you did so good" "you have no idea how much i want you"

Heeseung wishes he were anywhere but here right now. Award shows are the worst. The room is way too hot to be wearing a suit, the music is just slightly too loud, and you…you're walking around wearing that damn skirt.

Now, he knows it’s not your fault. It’s wholly your entertainment company’s fault for giving your group a sexy theme for the newest song and a skirt that’s a little too short for his liking. But he curses you just a tiny bit for having the audacity to look that good. In front of other people too!

He watches as you disappear backstage, your group finally getting to prepare for your performance. And now his only source of entertainment is gone. Don’t get him wrong, he loves to see all the other groups perform. But this is the 4th show that Enhypen has attended in the past month and he’s getting sick of hearing the same songs over and over. In the meantime, he busies himself with keeping an eye on his members. Nudging Sunghoon’s leg when he starts nodding off. Nodding along as Jake whispers something about P1Harmony in his ear. Doing some half-hearted aegyo with Jungwon when the fans grab their attention during a break. 

Finally, the MC announces your group and the stage has Heeseung’s attention once more. His eyes never leave your frame once, watching as you move around effortlessly. It’s no wonder you are the group’s main dancer. And fuck you look good doing it. Maybe he needs to have a conversation with your stylists. 

The first song ends and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Before he can steady himself once more, the next song plays. His brows knit in confusion for a moment. You hadn’t told him you were performing this one. In fact, you’ve been complaining about how you never want to sing it live. One of the high notes has been giving you trouble during vocal practice and it’s been frustrating you to no end.

He bites his lip momentarily, his heart rate picking up nervously. Every part of his being prays that you hit that note, knowing it will be a huge blow to your confidence if you don’t. The bridge of the song finally arrives and the next line is yours. He holds his breath once more as you sing. You hit the note perfectly, just as you had been wanting it to sound and he sighs in relief. “That’s my girl,” he mutters under his breath, smiling slightly. 

Though it must have been louder than he originally thought because Jake groans softly. “Dude, I thought we talked about this. Keep the horny comments to yourself.” Heeseung just rolls his eyes in response.

Your group’s performance comes to an end and you leave the stage. He lets himself zone out again until you emerge once more. Your members walk quickly back to your seats, bowing at everyone as they pass. Heeseung’s eyes remain on you the entire time. Your leader takes you a different route this time, passing directly in front of Enhypen’s seats. You end up right in front of him, pausing for a second. As you bow, your eyes remain downcast but you whisper, “stop staring at me, Hee.” 

Immediately, his eyes widen in surprise, but he catches himself and ducks his head to return the bow. Meanwhile, the rest of his group is in a fit of giggles. He prays their PR team is willing to work overtime to explain this interaction once it hits social media. 

The rest of the night, he forces himself to keep his eyes off you. And god is that a difficult task. He’s resorted to pinching himself every time his eyes drift over to where you sit. And by some miracle, the show ends before he’s made a big enough crease in his slacks. His stylist would be proud. 

Backstage is chaotic as always. His eyes flit around the hallway, looking for any sign of you in the mix of idols. He’s about to grab his phone and text you when he catches a flash of that damn skirt again. In an instant, he’s moving.

He grabs your hip lightly, squeezing quickly three times. You recognize the pattern instantly, spinning around and hugging him. He wraps his arms around you, not too worried about the scene it may cause. Your relationship is pretty much an open secret to the rest of the industry anyways. “You did so good,” he whispers into your hair. 

He feels the “thanks,” you mutter into his chest. His gaze flits down a bit and meets the garment that’s been torturing him all night. “Baby, can you please change now?” he says, voice low. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

You pull away and giggle, a telltale sign you are about to start teasing him. He preemptively rolls his eyes. “Oh? Have you been thinking about me all night?” you taunt.

“I’m always thinking about you,” he concedes.

You giggle once more. “How sweet. I’m going to change now. If you want me come find me,” you tease, turning in his arms.

He tightens his hold on you, preventing your escape. Then, he leans down to whisper softly in your ear. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

A shudder passes through your body and he smirks. You don’t say anything, but give him one more sultry look before walking away. Right before you turn the corner, he gets one more glimpse of you in that damn skirt. 

[softlysoul]

bless the telephone ❀ kim jongseob x fem!reader

genre fluff, soft, sickly sweet

a/n this is one of my fav songs of all time omg pleaseee listen to it it's so sweet, also this is kind of just a little blurb i thought of that i wanted to get down

listen here

── .✦

The stage lights have gone down, the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears.

And as he settles into bed for the night, the adrenaline and euphoric rush of being on stage having long faded, he thinks of you. 

He was never good with remembering the difference between time zones, but for you… he learned fast.

You get off work around 6. Home by 6:40 if traffic isn’t bad. 6:47 if you stop to pick up groceries or pet that little cat that always waits outside your apartment building.

It’s 2:47 a.m. for him.

Perfect timing.

He doesn’t even hesitate anymore, he just taps your name and waits.

You always pick up before the third ring.

“Hi,” you say, soft and a little breathless, making it clear you’ve just walked through the door.

“Hey,” he murmurs, already smiling. He shifts his weight in bed and closes his eyes. “Did you just get home?”

“Just walked in,” you reply, keys jingling faintly in the background. “You always know.”

Of course he does.

He doesn’t tell you that he watches your little dot on the location app move from your office to the train to the street outside your building. That he refreshes the map until it lands at your front door.

He just says, “Lucky guess.”

You laugh, and the sound is so familiar that it hits him right in the chest. He could be anywhere in the world—Tokyo, Paris, some tiny greenroom in the middle of nowhere—but when you laugh, he swears he could feel at home a million miles away.

He listens as you shuffle into your bedroom, wanting desperately to get out of your stuffy work clothes.

“Work was long,” you say. “Everyone was annoying.”

“Want me to beat them up?” he offers, playful and soft.

“Please do.”

You start talking, slowly unwinding the day. He doesn’t interrupt. He never does. It’s one of his favorite things, he’s always loved hearing you go off about office politics and weird elevator encounters and how your boss still doesn’t know how to format a PDF.

And through it all, you sound tired, but never too tired for him.

He pictures you there, sprawled on the bed, wearing your cute, mismatched pajamas, hair mussed, and talking with your whole heart.

God, he misses you.

He misses the way you smell like coffee and linen and home. The way you tilt your head when you're listening to him. The way you always hum when you’re trying to think of a word.

And still, he says nothing.

He just listens. Because sometimes that’s enough.

Sometimes the sound of your voice is all he needs to feel okay again.

When your voice quiets, there’s a pause. You’ve both been on the line long enough that the silence feels soft instead of awkward. Familiar.

“You okay?” He asks after a few beats of silence.

“I just…” your voice lowers. “I miss you. Everything’s a little dull without you.”

That stings in the way sweet things sometimes do.

He rests his head back against the wall. “I know,” he says. “I’d give anything to be next to you right now.”

There’s a small pause.

“I know, but I’m happy you get to be on tour.”

And you mean it. He can hear it in the way you say it, with no hesitation, no bitterness. Just that kind of love that makes space for someone else to shine.

That’s what always gets him. How selfless your love is. How you never make him feel guilty for chasing something that often takes him far away from you.

And because you’re like that, he lets himself say what he’s been thinking all day.

“I saw a fan holding a sign tonight,” he says. “It said, ‘You saved my life.’”

You don’t speak, but he knows you’re listening.

“All I could think about,” he murmurs, “was you. Because… you save mine every day.”

It’s quiet again. But not empty. Never empty with you.

The moment stretches, soft and glowing.

He hears you shuffle into bed, hears the way your breathing slows just a little.

“You should sleep,” he whispers.

“I like falling asleep to your voice,” you whisper back. “It makes me feel less lonely.”

His throat tightens.

It’s such a simple thing, a phone call. Just two voices on a line. But somehow, it pulls him across oceans and anchors him. Reminds him what all this is for.

Strange how a phone call can change your day.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, “I’ll call you again. Right when you get home.”

You know he will, he does everyday. It provides him the same comfort it gives you, if not more.

Because sometimes love is just a presence on the other end of the line, listening and waiting.

── .✦

softlysoul perm taglist - @markkiatocafe @theozia @hyeinsveil