#It's very clear if you know both me and that game that I played it in my younger years and it created the foundation of my personality

[onsomenewsht]

Aching legs that often told us it’s all worth it

About when you just win everything and you just want a hug

》 Barcelona Femini x Reader, Leah Williamson x Reader

》 word count: +2k

》 cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet [latin verse]: let the one love tomorrow who has never loved, and let the one who has loved love tomorrow

It’d be hypocritical to say you have never imagined this moment, that you have never dreamt of this exact moment. It’d be hypocritical to say that you have never, in the comfort of your bathroom, lifted a bottle of shampoo picturing this very trophy.

But no dream nor bottle of shampoo can remotely come close to how you feel when the referee blows the whistle three times, proclaiming your club the winner of the Champions League.

The legs, which just until a moment ago were close to giving up under the weight of an intense and stressful 90 minutes of running back and forth, suddenly sprint towards the centre of the pitch to join the Blaugrana bubble.

Screams and celebrations in more languages than you can recognise can’t bother you as you know well enough you’re all saying the same thing, you’re all sharing and expressing the same joy.

“Non ci credo!” [I don’t believe this!], Giulia jumps on your back without a care – the excitement to win such a big competition at such a young age fills you with pride.

What a bright future these kids have in front of them.

“Credici, it’s the first of many”

You’re optimistic tonight, it’s the first Champions League for you too after all.

You carry her around the pitch for five good minutes, hugging and cheering with every single teammate you meet in your path. The Italian girl gets dragged away not long after to join the kids’ groups.

You don’t mind it too much, you feel too old to keep up with their endless energy anyway.

For the first time since the end of the game you find yourself looking around, looking for a blonde woman – probably hidden behind a ridiculous hat.

It’s Keira who manages to catch your attention, screaming in that incomprehensible accent of hers right in your ears and dragging you towards the podium.

The trophy ceremony flies in a blur of cheers and confetti, despite your best attempts to savour every single minute of this incredible and historic win.

When, between pictures and out-of-key chants, a moment of apparent calm arrives, and you take advantage of it to look in the stands for your family.

At least the journey was not in vain this time.

The wrinkles around your mom’s mouth are a clear sign she’s been smiling for hours, the watery eyes of your father are the clearest expression of pride you will get from him. You hug them both for as long as they allow you, still reserving your biggest hug for your brother.

No sign of her yet.

“Here I was, thinking I couldn’t be more proud of you”.

You can’t hold back your tears.

After all, he’s your biggest and longest supporter, cheering for you since you used to play with boys double your age and size.

“Shut up and let me hug Andrea”, you say, reaching for your excited nephew.

The attention the toddler gives you is long enough to admire your medal and to kick a couple of times towards the goal when you let him onto the pitch. As soon as he spots Claudia, recently declared his favourite player ever, he sprints in her direction to steal her from Patri. You let him be, there’s Irene with the group of barely-grown-ups.

You don’t hold back a laugh as you see María run out of nowhere, her flag secured in one hand and a contagious smile on her face. You can’t wait to see her play again.

Then the sudden realisation you’re alone hits you hard. You’re alone, not too far away from the middle of the pitch. As much alone someone can be in the middle of a Champions League final celebration, but alone nonetheless.

Around you, teammates and friends and families are gathered in different bubbles, jumping and cheering without much of a care. The stands are filled with Blaugrana colours, singing loud and proud.

For the first time today, you let yourself get carried away by the supporters’ passion, admiring every single corner of the stadium as the privileged spectator of your own story.

You just witnessed a moment in football’s history.

You’d cry if not for the fitted body that crushes into you unexpectedly, bringing you back to the green grass without much effort.

“La poeta!”

“La reina!”

You share with Alexia a hug way more intense and sentimental than what you’re used to. You let emotion overcome you one more time as the captain holds you firmly, large hands caressing your back and keeping you present.

Her eyes are as shining as her all self, this victory means so much more than the obvious for most of you.

“You had to come in and score just like that, celebrate just like that”

“¿Qué puedo decir?” [What can I say?], the blonde shrugs her shoulders, but after years of friendship you can tell when the fine line between being humble and being aware of your own greatness blurs.

Alexia holds your face between her hands, the smirk painted on her lips shifts slightly to a more serious smile.

“Te lo mereces, lo sabes?” [You know you deserve this, right?]

“We all do”

“No, no, you deserve this”, she says firmly, addressing the elephant in the room dressed as the loan that last year broke your confidence.

You were there in Turin, it looked like a twist of fate to be away from Barcelona when they lifted the most beautiful trophy in Europe’s football.

This victory means more to you than what you’re willing to admit, even to yourself.

That’s one of the reasons why you’re still looking for her in the crowd.

“Enough with this mushy stuff, where’s my favourite Putellas?”

“Lo juro, si no dejas de hablar así de mi hermana–” [I swear, if you keep talking like this of my sister–]

“Oh, I was talking about your mom, but now that we’re on it–”

The punch she throws on your arm is light, but the message is clear. You and Alba have too much fun provoking Alexia, who is way overprotective of the both of you to realise that the jokes are only aimed at annoying her.

Feeling called upon, the two women join you with huge smiles on their faces. Eli welcomes you with a motherly hug, somehow sensing the tension on your shoulders.

“¿Qué es esa mala cara?” [Why the long face?]

“She can’t find her girlfriend”

“¡Alba, callate!”

Alexia raises an eyebrow at her sister’s quip, not happy to be let out about this.

She doesn’t know about the situationship you find yourself in. It’s not like you don’t trust the blonde, you do. But you’re aware of the protective tendencies and, on top of everything, you’re a bit scared of the lecture about the importance of being honest with your feelings and all that shit.

She’s too emotionally mature now.

Luckily, Olga comes running to meet you, distracting the captain from any inquisitive question without much effort.

“You’re disgusting”, you say to Alexia, now used to her open smile and carefree attitude whenever her girlfriend is close enough to light up her usually stoic face.

“¡Oy!”

“I wasn’t talking about Olga, I like Olga”, you state, dropping an arm around Alba’s shoulder who immediately joins the joke, “Yeah, lovesick Alexia is scary”

Eli has to intervene, still laughing at her daughter’s expense.

“They’re just jealous”

Olga’s right, you can hide it from everyone but yourself. You’re definitely a little envious of the cute relationship and happiness that seem to follow your friend like a glowing shadow.

You want a love like that too.

Your gaze starts wandering around the pitch once again, hoping to find the person who’s hunting your dreams and nightmares.

You know she’s here, you overheard Keira talking about her before the game.

She’s just not here for you.

Quickly excusing yourself from the Putellas’ family, muttering something about looking for your nephew to relieve anyone who found themselves babysitting, you bid your goodbye.

Before you can get away Alexia hugs you one last time, letting you know you’re not escaping her questions.

You find Andrea easily, entertained as he runs around followed shortly by another child – Mapi.

“Oh, wow, it’s like looking at your future!”, you teasingly nod at Ingrid, who’s way too entranced by the scene.

The Norwegian just grins, holding you as she kisses your forehead, always amused about the height difference. Her silence is loud enough.

Another jolt of jealousy strikes your body, immediately subsided by the reassuring presence of the defender and the loving gaze reserved for the enthusiastic Spanish woman nearby.

You couldn’t hate them even if you wanted to, they’re too beautiful together and you’re too happy for them.

When your nephew finally notices you, he seems to remember you actually are his favourite person. He outruns María, literally jumping between your arms – risking falling on his face just once by tripping over the flag that one of your teammates must have tied around his neck like a cape.

“¡Visca Barça!”

“Your father supports Milan”

“Ser del Barça es el millor que hi ha!”, he states in an impressive Catalan.

“Who taught you that?”

The kid points at Aitana and Jana, both sporting a smug grin all over their faces as they greet you from close by. The latter is lucky you’re feeling merciful enough to not embarrass her in front of her girlfriend.

You can just shake your head and laugh about the situation.

“You can give Keira Spanish lessons”, you say to Andrea as you position him comfortably on your shoulders.

You try to be subtle as you observe all the people on the pitch. If anyone asks, you are simply looking for your brother in the crowd of Blaugrana to return the child to its rightful owner.

Even if your brother is not a gorgeous footballer you can’t get out of your mind.

Of course you find him in a conversation with Keira.

“Tell me more about this high school suspension”, you hear the English midfielder ask.

“Tell her absolutely nothing!”

The chat goes on for a few more minutes, you’re a little ashamed to admit that you’re not listening to a single word as you still look around.

It’s your nephew who brings you back to reality, pulling you by the collar of your medal. You quickly bid your goodbyes to both of them, making sure you can meet again before they have to go back home and you have to be dragged into all the post-final engagements.

“You’re hopeless”

“What?”

“You’re both unbelievable”

“Where is your girlfriend? You’re bearable when Laura is around”

“She’s somewhere with your girlfriend”

At her obvious taunt, your gaze still flies in all the directions your neck humanely allows.

You really are hopeless.

Keira’s laugh is the final nail in the coffin, the only one amused about the situation.

She’s also the one who introduced you to the person you thought would just be a fun night out over a year ago, the person who turned out to be comforting and a constant thought.

The person who makes you realise midair you’re falling in love.

No strings attached though.

“Go to her!”

“She’s not here for me”

“Don’t drag me in, you useless stubborn–”

The blonde has a point, you can’t deny that the mutual friendship is the perfect excuse to find each other in the same places at the same time. The perfect opportunity to see each other again as much as possible without questioning the blurred line between an armless fuck and growing feelings.

Nights of fun soon turned into morning talks in the warmth of a hotel bed, then whole days spent exploring each other’s lives.

If only one of you dares to admit wanting more.

“Ohi, champ!”

As you hear her voice you never turn around so fast in your life, almost injuring yourself from the force with which you move. You don’t even hear Keira bust out laughing at your side.

“Hi”

“Ciao”

What a stupid smile you have on your face, just staring at each other a few steps away.

You’re sweaty and tired from the match and the celebrations, pretty sure your hair is a mess and your legs are on the verge of giving up. Yet she thinks she has never seen you more beautiful.

“Oh, for fuck’ sake, just kiss or whatever”, Keira grabs you both by an arm when neither of you makes any sign of moving, impatiently pushing you closer to the other and leaving, muttering something you’re not sure you want to know.

“Don’t run too far, you still have an interview in Catalan to do”

You don’t hear your friend’s response, you don’t even see her finger up in the air. When Leah laughs every other sound and person fades into the background.

“Can’t wait for that to happen”

“You and any other culés”

A few more moments pass before the blonde adds, “I think congratulations are in order”, pointing to the medal you wear around your neck – suddenly heavier.

“Thank you”, you whisper, lowering your gaze and nervously turning the object over in your hands.

You don’t need to see her, always hyper aware of her presence around you. You feel her approaching and enveloping you in a warm embrace, the hug you’ve been waiting for all day.

You have to admit to yourself it’s the best you’ve received today.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #barcelona femini x reader #barcelona femeni #leah williamson x reader #woso fanfics #barca femeni #leah williamson #barcelona women #alexia putellas #keira walsh #woso imagine #here we go again #my english is somehow getting worst #still planning a part 2 #my wo(rd)so

[diejager]

Hello this would be the very first time id make a request if you still take them. Omegaverse taskforce 141 with an isekai reader who could pass as a bèta with a twist, if you heard about the pheromone perfume then yeah. Reader as a beta but snells like an omega🙂

🐼anon

Cw: pheromone perfume, omegaverse, spy, inaccurate facts, tell me if I missed any.

For something you’d once thought fictional, an imaginary creation to spend one’s time on and lose themselves when they wanted to escape the hardships of their world, it was scarily realistic. You were a fan, someone who’d followed the franchises from it’s earliest days to the most recent - and unsightingly disappointing - installment of a remake of a remastered version of a game you played as a kid. You’d even dreamed of it being a reality, living the lives and adventures besides the men and women in Modern Warfare and even Ghosts and Black Ops despite knowing that their universe was a mirror of your own, simply built and reconstructed differently than the one you were born in. 

It was a fantasy, even your strange interest in works tagged with omegaverse. To see a big man like Ghost shudder and kneel for another, to see Gaz being tenderly dominating and affectionate, to see Price reluctantly soft and grumpy, and to see Soap teasingly sly and mischievously headstrong. Sometimes, they would draw one as an omega and the other as an alpha, or as an beta and alpha couple. It was a whole roller coaster of emotions and intrigue, but a fantasy all the same.

And yet… and yet, here you were, in a body that was and wasn’t your own. It was a carbon copy of yours, but you weren’t you in it, like wearing a mask or another’s skin. That’s how you felt, especially with the scars that painted your skin like a stray sky and tense muscles that felt too hard to be fake. Perhaps it was the sudden sensitivity of your nose, the cloying in your mind and annoyance that suddenly filled you. Or perhaps it was the clean and elegant clothes you wore, a harsh dichotomy to the dark gear the others beside you wore, vests and padded body suits, weapons latched to their hips, chests, thighs and even in their hands, and the hard and cold gleam in their eyes, hidden under the darkness of the vehicle you rode. 

Any confusion you once had was washed away when time seemed to stall, the world blurring as clear and loud words were spoken in your mind. Instructions, you understood, guidance towards your goal and advice to complete it. It was a ball, you were sent to conclude a transaction under… Kate Laswell’s order, a favour you had agreed to do for her as someone who worked in intelligence and assasinations rather than brawn and breaches. She’d called you a silent killer, neither a mercenary nor an employee, you were a panther in stalk, an owl in flight, deathly silent and tenaciously lethal.

It seemed like an out-of-body experience. You were somehow a spectator to your body, and somehow the master of it. Every act was practiced, ever word spoken with a charming smile and every smile particularly persuasive. It was so simple —so easy. With their emotions flashing in your face through smell alone, your nose twitching at the scent of arousal and pleasure, the flattered and the excited. They were so - too - easy to read and control, to have them curled around your finger like fine silk. You chalked their attraction towards you to your charms and the smell that clung to your skin, a sweetness that made both men and women turn their heads to gaze at you for a lick f your scent. Pheromones. An omega’s pheromones mixed with sweet perfume. 

It helped, truly, making your work vastly easier than you’d once thought. It eased the nerve and anxiety that brewed inside of you, having done nothing but speak out loud the words that popped in your head and act out the motions that were advised to you. Your brain - mind or conscience - was a machine, a computer giving out orders and guiding you through this without any trouble. That, you were thankful for, you would have been a mess of tears and panic if not for it. It made you work quick and efficient.

And you were out within the hour, striding across the street and down the corner, walking as if you weren’t in a hurry or on a mission, nothing better than hiding in plain sight —the best of hiding spots. Within the minutes, down a few streets, turning left and right, walking circles to make sure you weren’t followed, you crossed the threshold of a textile shop, nodding at the lady working at the counter and headed to the back rooms, the employees only rooms. There, you met four men huddled around a table with Laswell at the head, all familiar figures you once fantasied about. 

“An omega?” Price sounded much deeper in person, his done low and somehow soft despite the rasp that smoking caused. 

“Beta,” you corrected, your name following as a greeting, a beast greeting another beast, head bowed in respect and acknowledgment that they returned. 

“You don’t smell it.”

It was curt and to the point, nothing you hadn’t expected from Ghost.

“Pheromone perfume,” you grinned, patting your pocket, “Neat trick, hmm?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #price mw2 #price x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #soap mw2 #soap x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod omegaverse #omegaverse #Beta!reader #alpha!price #Beta!gaz #alpha!ghost #omega!soap

[bg3-stole-my-soul]

Honestly I feel the need to say this here and now—

I do not hate Ascended Astarion as a story. It is a powerful way of showing the cycle of abuse and how your actions (or in the case of ascending him inaction) can lead a victim into repeating it.

I do not mind Ascended Astarion as a character- yes he creeps me the flying fuck out, but that was the P O I N T

He is meant to be tragic, sad, anger inducing, creepy— because he is the culmination of you helping Astarion become that— the very STEREOTYPE of the hypersexual noble vampire. Neil did absolutely AMAZING voicing him, and the way he describes him as being Astarion going “mask off” is in regards to the fact that Ascended Astarion is now POWERFUL enough to not have to bother appeasing others— not that Spawn Astarion is constantly acting or lying because that would undermine Astarion’s very IMPORTANT story— because that notion betrays the writing of both Spawn and Ascended Astarion. Ascended Astarion is a character now RULED by his fear and trauma, while Spawn is someone who grew past it.

I do not mind people liking Ascended Astarion, or writing for him. We all love to bang a fictional villain from time to time— I know I do. However what I do NOT like is when those fans say that he is BETTER OFF this way, or that he is the "true" Astarion. Because if it hasn't been made clear already, he isn't. Is Ascending Astarion a valid way to play the game? Yes. Everyone's choices are their own— but please don't try to justify why you did it. Just stay in your lane.

I am greatly saddened because I used to like the concept of playing with alternate universes where Astarion ascended— but after seeing his rabid fanbase and their wild “explanations” I am just sick of the guy—

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldur's gate iii #astarion x tav #astarion discourse #ascended astarion isn’t healthy or truly happy and they need to accept that

[vickyvicarious]

The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest voice as he opened two letters:— "The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they come, I shall, of course, take care. See!"—he must have looked at it—"one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other"—here he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly—"the other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us." And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. Then he went on:— "The letter to Hawkins—that I shall, of course, send on, since it is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend, that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?" He held out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a clean envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence.

This is Dracula at peak cruelty. He's got his smoothest voice, his best manners, his finest words about the friendship between them. He opens Jonathan's messages right in front of him, burns the letter right in front of him.

He could have let him think they got out, but he doesn't want Jonathan to keep harboring any hope. He also doesn't want him to think he can ask the people outside for help (which actually makes me believe they are more likely to try and help, which is why Dracula wants to prevent Jonathan seeking it from them). So he crushes both the hope for rescue from afar and help from nearby at once, by telling Jonathan that these letters were given to him, and of course by controlling what gets sent out.

He seems to have already opened and read the letter to Hawkins. But he waited to read the second letter until he is in front of Jonathan. The one to Hawkins has no important information, but it hints that the one to Mina does. If that letter was not in shorthand, Jonathan's life would almost certainly depend on how openly he had asked for help. Because that might have broken the facade of friendship. And by waiting until he was in front of him to read Jonathan's own words, Dracula ensured that it would be Jonathan who was 'responsible' for doing so. He engineered what he probably expected to be a high-stakes game, wherein he read the letter and depending on the contents either allowed Jonathan to try and come up with an excuse he could pretend to accept, or let everything end and attacked him.

The shorthand changes everything. It's infuriating, because Dracula cannot read or understand it. And he refuses to admit that or to allow Jonathan to lie to him about what it contains. So he threatens whoever would write such a thing, but seizes on the excuse of it not being signed to dispose of it without having to call off the game. And he is able to quickly pivot back to hurting Jonathan even more, by forcing him to watch the letter containing all his hopes burn away. (This could be another test as well. If he broke, if he lunged to save it...)

Then Dracula forces Jonathan to play along. It seems clear that he has been sitting in silence throughout this scene. Dracula makes him, if not talk, at least act. He has to be the one to redirect the new envelope. He has to physically hand it over to Dracula. His effort to get a message out was turned into a useless mockery in which he must participate.

And then Dracula locks him in the library and leaves him alone to stew for a while.

I do think that Dracula went off and burned the letter to Mr. Hawkins as well. If that went out it would potentially raise questions, at the very least about a letter to Mina that went missing, and also might screw up his carefully scheduled false timeline (as established in the dictated letters). There's no reason for him to actually send this letter. But by pretending he was going to, he was able to twist the knife a little harder, and get Jonathan to 'participate' again.

#dracula daily #count dracula #jonathan harker #i'd not really thought before about what dracula expected to find in that second letter #but if it had been an outright cry for help not in code then.... the jig would almost certainly be up huh #perhaps that's part of the reason he is so cheerful when he comes back. he was able to 'save' the situation in multiple ways and keep up #his game of playing friends

[sluttylittlewaste]

Does anyone else remember how during ACoC people kept trying to prove that Caramelinda was somehow in on [redacted's] betrayal and was actually evil? And do we all remember how many times Brennan had to say "No, she's not evil or Bad or anything, she's just a woman who is trying really hard to make the best decisions she can with the information she has in the heinous circumstances she's in"??? Do we remember Brennan having to tell the Bad Kids that Zayne Darkshadow isn't just some cringefail fucking edgelord but a child who suffered greatly in his life and then DIED?

Does anyone else remember Kalina literally having to snap her own neck to get the Bad Kids to realize that she might not be just *blanket evil*?

I feel like I'm seeing something very similar happening with Porter and Kipperlily and I really hope Brennan once again subverts the idea that just because a character is antagonistic they are inherently Bad or Evil.

Also, just a reminder Protagonist = main character Antagonist = person opposing/challenging the main character

These terms do not possess a moral assignation.

#To be clear this is not about the Intrepid Heroes and how they play the game #This is fully about how easy it is while playing DnD to forget being the main character makes it really easy to assume opposition = malice #and to make character judgments based on whether or not NPCs or nice/helpful/frienldly/agreeable #even though time and time again it has been proven that the nicest people in the world can be the most nefarious #also in the specific case of Fantasy High #they are all so good at playing teens and really leaning into the defensive/reactive/emotional aspect of that #a lot like Ruby in ACoC #there's also something very high school about responding to a person disliking you with extreme defensiveness #rather than simply understanding that sometimes that just...happens #and that people can come to and act based on conclusions about you without all of the information #in the exact same way that you can #but it feels more personal and offensive because you are living in your own head and know your reasons for doing things #so it becomes a flat dichotomy of nice person = good #rude person = bad #and it takes a lot of growth and perspective to know things aren't that flat in most situations #Aabria is actually really good at subverting that manner of thinking #both as a DM and a PC #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 #fhjy #if i die #let me die #thoughts #a crown of candy #acoc spoilers #fhjy spoilers

[aberooski]

Final Fantasy X-2 is the Yu-Gi-Oh! GX of the FF series and I mean that in all of the best and most loving ways possible.

#They're both sequels in their own sense #both kinda get flack for being more silly and quirky than what came before #but they're also both so much deeper and sadder than you'd think they are #that being said there is so much about me that can be explained by FFX-2 #It's very clear if you know both me and that game that I played it in my younger years and it created the foundation of my personality #FFX is my favorite game ever made ever and will always have my heart more than any other #but the debt of gratitude I have for X-2 is immeasurable #YRP for life babes #X-2 shaped my childhood and GX is shaping me in my adulthood #the fact that X-2 is one of the greatest loves of my life should leave no one surprised that GX is the same for me #of course they're very different things but at the same time in my heart they're not so different either #abby's just rambling don't mind her #final fantasy x 2 #final fantasy x/x 2 #yugioh gx

[astrxealis]

anyways. have you heard of the critically acclaimed mmorpg final fantasy xiv with a free trial that includes the base game a realm reborn and the award-winning expansion heavensward in which you can play up until level 60 with no time restrictions

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚ #not sure if this is the Proper copypasta but it's the one i like to do <3 #anyways hi uhhuhuuhuh i know at least 3/5 of my mutuals r into ffxiv but i have never talked abt it to any of y'all save for. my twin JHSBD #SO HI. UHM. if you see this do you wna ;; be friends in game ;; i'm mostly on oce but i have a character on all regions! #or if you don't play ffxiv and just like it pls cry w me sobs /pos or if you don't know it well pls get into it i will love you forever /nf #my alts on regions that are not oce r rlly low level but i'd be glad to level w you if ever T___T <3 free trial !! very good !! yes !! #altho not on mobile yeah ofc ... but playstation or pc or steam or i forgot yes aaa !!! T___T #if you start on oce i can carry you HFBSDJHG both in easy leveling / help / tips / wtvr !! and uhm. i'm a very good player /gen #i try to be humble dw lol but i have cleared e12s and p4s as current content! the former as ranged and the latter as magic #but i've played maiming since the beginning and also have done savage w it :> main dps/healer now >< healing is rlly fun!! #uh. tanking. i leave that to my twin /hj JHGDSBGH ... i have gnb to 90 and drk at 60 but gld is not even pld at 20. war is 40 #my lowest classes ... literally ... tanking is not bad but it is Not for Me T^T #anyways hi even if we aren't mutuals do you wna. be mutuals/friends. for ffxiv yes aha #i am pretty lonely w this game despite it being my most favorite unfortunately ;; i still consider my twintania friends friends but #oce is kinda lonely aside from my irls being there bcs i got them into it T_T and i have like uh. 2 friends from social media !! #hi i am rambling i talk so much when it comes to ffxiv HBFSHDBGHJBJ BUT YEAH ... ^^ do keep in mind i am still a minor tho #(estimated 16 >< 15-17 y/o yes!) #tag later

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

#francesca bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 #john stirling #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton season three #Francesca is Autistic #Autism #Autistic

[middlepartmatt]

7 Minutes in Heaven

"baby, let me take the pressure off you. i'll make the first move, and do what i got to” — PLAY WITH ME, rendezvous at two

SUMMARY: at a party, you end up spending 7 minutes in a closet with the quietest boy in school — matt. when the time runs out and you’re both left unsatisfied, you tell him to come find you to finish what you started.

WARNINGS: smut, sub!matt x dom!reader, praise kink, handjob, edging, oral (male receiving)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: no thoughts just sub matt

────

“Who’s next?”

The living room bustles with excitement, the sounds of voices drowning out the thumping music in the background. You originally came to this party with your best friend, but she quickly disappeared with her boyfriend, leaving you to fend for yourself in this ginormous house. Even though you know almost everyone here from school, you haven’t really spoken to anyone yet, which is very unlike you.

So, when someone suggested 7 minutes in heaven, you immediately nodded your head and sat down alongside everybody else who wanted to play. You’ve been sitting here for over half an hour now, patiently waiting for your turn. You fiddle with the cup in your hands, eagerly waiting to see who's going next. If nobody volunteers, you're thinking of being the one to spin the bottle. It's getting boring sitting out here, and you're in the mood for a bit of fun. It's been a while.

“Matt, you go!”

You turn your head, gaze landing on Chris Sturniolo, a boy in your Chemistry class. You’ve not spoken to him much, but he’s always cracking jokes that often times get him sent out of the room. Next to him is one of his triplet brothers, as Chris nudges his arm and points towards the bottle on the coffee table in the middle.

You don’t know much about Matt, other than that he’s the total opposite of Chris. He’s introverted, quiet, shy. Even the way he’s sitting now shows just how uncomfortable he is, hunched over on the couch, looking sheepish as his glasses slide down his nose slightly. You’re not usually into glasses, but you can’t help but think that they look weirdly cute on him.

“Me?” Matt asks, eyes widening as he turns to his brother. Chris nods enthusiastically, so Matt sighs and reaches forward to spin the bottle.

You watch carefully, bringing your drink up to your lips and taking a long sip. The bottle slowly spins to a stop, and much to everyone’s surprise, it ends up pointing right at you.

You feel everyone’s eyes on you but you ignore it, getting up from the couch and setting your now-empty drink down on the coffee table. You begin heading towards the closet, then turn around when you notice you're the only one who seems to be doing so.

“Are you coming?” you ask Matt, who nods quickly, jumping up from his seat and dusting himself off.

“Y-yeah,” he murmurs awkwardly. It’s clear that he’s nervous from the way he’s struggling to meet your gaze, but this doesn’t faze you. You just turn back around and open the closet door, walking inside.

Matt follows, shutting the door behind him. The two of you are now enclosed in darkness, excluding fairy lights that have been strung around the room to give it a calm ambiance.

You and Matt face each other, and it’s only now that you realize how close the two of you are. His breath is hot as he shakily inhales and exhales, trying to keep his cool around you. His behavior only makes you more curious about him… has he ever been this close with a girl before? Now that you think about it, this is the first party you’ve ever seen him at. Usually, he’s always at home whenever his brothers go out, and at school he often keeps to himself or his small friendship group.

“So… uh- how are you?” Matt asks randomly, looking visibly embarrassed. It's evident that he's never played this game before, either that or his nerves are getting the best of him. You suspect it's a mix of the two, because where else would Matt have played 7 minutes in heaven? It makes you smile a little on the inside, the fact that you're the first doing something to you.

“Good,” you reply, playing along mainly for his sake. He nods at your response, before shaking his head, like he’s at war with himself.

“S-sorry you’re stuck in here with me,” he says, which surprises you. “This is probably a giant waste of time…” he trails off, before his gaze drifts to the floor and he just stares awkwardly at his shoes.

“Matt,” you say then, catching him off guard. His neck snaps up and your eyes meet once again.

“Hm?” he mumbles. It’s almost like he hates the attention on him, from the way he stands so stiffly.

“I don’t mind,” you shrug. It’s not like you’re saying this just to make him feel better, either — you’ve always found something about him strangely hot. Your curiosity about him combined with his attractiveness that he hides behind books and his glasses causes you to unintentionally look for him around the halls at school, wondering about his life much more than you should. He’s nothing like your type, but this somehow makes you even more attracted to him.

“Oh, uh, o-okay,” he stammers, like he doesn’t know how to react to your response. You grin, taking a step closer to him. Your chest is now flushed against his front, and Matt freezes at how close you two are. “Uh…”

“Have you ever been with a girl before?” you ask suddenly, cutting him off. His eyes widen comically and even in this dim lighting, you can see his cheeks turning red.

“Um, no…” he says, ashamed. You feel a burning desire between your legs, because somehow his lack of experience turns you on even more.

“Would you like to be?” you continue. Matt nods. “Yeah…” he says quietly. You look down and notice he’s clenching his fists, veins bulging out of his forearms. You raise your eyebrows, since this sight is something you never would’ve expected from him.

Pushing yourself further against him, your arms snake around his neck and tangle in his hair as you pull him into a kiss. His lips are wet and soft against yours, and you’re pleasantly surprised by how natural this feels despite his lack of experience.

His arms are hanging by his sides, so you pull one of Matt’s hands up onto your waist. He hesitates for a moment, pausing the kiss to quickly glance downwards.

“Are you… sure?” he asks, eyes full of nervous worry. You stay quiet and nod, pulling on his hair to pull him back in for another kiss. His grip on your waist tightens which catches you by surprise, and you can feel Matt smiling slightly as you kiss him.

You tug slightly on his bottom lip with your teeth, and Matt can’t help but let out a small whimper from this. The kiss turns sloppier then as you both get more into it, and subconsciously you find your hand drifting downwards.

He pulls away from you then, eyes wide as he jerks slightly at your touch. Your hand is still hovering just over his dick, such a small space stopping you from touching him through the baggy jeans he’s wearing.

“Oh, I’ve, um, I…” he begins anxiously, his eventually words getting caught in his throat and he falls silent. You raise an eyebrow curiously.

“Have you ever been touched like this by a girl before?” you question, although you already have a suspicion of what his answer will be.

“No,” Matt sighs, using a hand to cover his face due to his embarrassment. You use your other hand to reach up and pull it away, before pressing a short but sweet kiss to his lips. Matt practically melts into it, and you take this as your sign to finally touch him.

You palm his dick through his clothes, and he looks downwards to see what you’re doing. You use your other hand to push his chin back up so you’re making eye contact, then slide his glasses up his nose and back into place.

“Look at me, baby,” you tell him, and he whines at both your hand palming him and the nickname.

Matt’s never been called baby before, obviously, but the moment the word leaves your lips he’s instantly desperate for you to say it again. It almost makes him feel special, like he’s all yours.

You move your hand now to grip him as best you can through his jeans, and Matt’s body immediately responds as he bucks your hips into your palm. “Fuck,” he groans, panting at the feel of your hand on him.

“You like that?” you ask smugly, feeling wetness pooling between your thighs at how worked up he’s getting. You could stay here all night with him, watching him slowly but surely lose all control. And hell, even though he’s inexperienced, you bet he could do things to you that would leave you moaning and panting just as he is right now.

“Mhm,” Matt mumbles, too overwhelmed to say anything else.

“Use your words, Matt,” you say, running your knuckles up and down his cock tentatively. He whimpers, then bites down on his lip to conceal the sound.

“I- I like it,” he responds shortly. You furrow your eyebrows, removing your hand and crossing your arms.

“Is that it?” you ask teasingly, and Matt looks at you pleadingly, almost like a little puppy. His eyes are wide with shock at the sudden lack of touch on him.

“What?” he exclaims, eyes darting from your face to the hand that had just been on his dick. “I- please just touch me again. Please,” he begs, voice full of need.

This satisfies you, so you smile and reach for him again, going to unzip his jeans as the two of you begin making out again. You brush your tongue against his which he reciprocates surprisingly well. This only makes you more desperate for him, frantically toying at his pants to free his cock. You felt how big he was even through his pants, and it’s only made you more needy for him.

A loud knock at the door catches the two of you by surprise and you both quickly break away. Matt’s cheeks are flushed and with shaky hands he readjusts his pants, trying his best to hide the erection you’ve caused.

“Time’s up!” Chris’ voice calls from the other side of the door. You walk past Matt to open the door of the closet, but he reaches forward and grabs your arm before you get the chance.

“W-we can’t leave!” he whisper-shouts, gesturing down to his crotch. “What am I supposed to do about this?” he asks you frantically. You just shrug, a smirk playing on your lips as your mind is filled with ideas.

“Come find me later and I’ll sort that out for you,” you reply casually, before spinning on your heels and exiting the closet.

Matt’s cheeks burn and he feels his dick getting even harder at just the thought of the two of you continuing where you left off, and maybe even going further.

He just hopes he can find the courage to seek you out.

────

After leaving the closet, you decided to go and get another drink. You weren't interested in playing the game anymore, instead patiently waiting for a certain someone to seek you out to finish what you started.

There's a growing heat between your legs at the thought, your mind wandering dangerously as you think of all the things you'd like to do to him.

Annoyingly though, you haven't seen Matt in what feels like forever. Somehow, he seems to have disappeared from the party. Every time you see either of his brothers you're filled with an indescribable disappointment when you spot the lack of glasses. Maybe he's too shy, after all.

You set down your now-empty red solo cup and head towards the bathroom. Right as you begin walking down the empty hallway, a hand grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

Turning around, you're met with none other than Matt standing opposite you. A soft blush covers his cheeks and his mouth is curved slightly upwards in a nervous smile. You briefly gaze downwards, a smirk taking over your lips at the sight of his tented jeans.

"Hi, Matt," you greet him nonchalantly, acting as if you have no idea why he's here. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Y-yeah," he replies, nodding his head in agreement. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" you tease, enjoying the way it makes him squirm uncomfortably.

"I- Uh... Well, you know," he shrugs awkwardly. You raise your eyebrows, acting innocent.

"What?" you question.

"Um..." Matt mumbles, his face scrunching up with shame.

"Use your words, baby," you whisper, leaning closer to him. "Say the words and we'll go upstairs, and I'll touch you wherever you want."

His eyes widen comically at this. Matt opens his mouth to speak, but his words get tangled in his throat and he coughs quietly.

"I, well, I was hoping..." he trails off, losing confidence. But then, he clears his throat and stands up a little straighter. "I was hoping you would, well, get me off."

You smile and nod, shrugging off his grip on your wrist so that you can take his hand, entwining your fingers with Matt's as you drag him upstairs. You pull him into the first empty you find, closing and locking the door behind you.

"Sit down on the bed," you order, and he does exactly as you tell him to. Matt shuffles down the bed so that he's leaning against the headboard, his needy gaze drifting from you to his bulge and back again.

You walk over to him, crawling onto the bed and stopping just in front of him, seductively kneeling before him. You look at his crotch, drawing circles on his thigh with your finger just as you whisper, "You're such a slut, Matt."

His mouth falls open and he shakes his head. "What? No I'm not!" he insists, shaking his head slightly. You tilt your head to the side, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Are you sure?" you ask, your hands drifting upwards to the waistband of his jeans. "Because everyone knows only a slut would come back for more."

Matt gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing up and then back down. Your hand glides up further to cup his dick through his clothes, and he shifts at the touch, breath becoming heavy.

"You're lucky I like sluts," you go on, palming him just as you were in the dark enclosure of the closet earlier.

"Ugh, fuck," he pants at the pressure of the touch.

"You must be so sore," you tease, pressing down harder which makes his hips buck up into your hand. "Do you want me to touch you now, properly?" you ask then.

"Yes, plea- Fuck. Please touch me," Matt barely manages to get out.

"Only because you asked so nicely, baby."

Your hand moves to the zipper of his jeans, which you pull down and Matt lifts his hips so that you can pull his pants and underwear down. He closes his eyes as his cock springs out, the tip a soft red and already leaking slightly from how long he's been waiting. You resist the urge to gasp at the sheer size of him, especially as you eye a thick vein running from the base to his tip.

"Such a pretty cock," you muse, before spitting into your hand and wrapping it around him. A pant escapes Matt's lips as his eyes spring open to see what you're doing to him. Your index finger circles the tip, rubbing some of his precome around it.

"Oh," he breathes, a whimper leaving Matt's lips as you begin to slowly pump him up and down. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, throwing his head back against the headboard as his body is filled with pleasure at your touch.

You're literally soaking wet by now, having never known how hot it could be to watch a man come undone like Matt's doing right now. The way his lip hangs between his teeth and his chest rises and falls has you practically desperate for him to finish just to see how pretty he looks doing it.

You stop pumping him for a moment and Matt looks back down at you, his lips turned downwards into a frown because of your stopped movement.

"W-why'd you stop?" he asks, looking visibly concerned. "Am I... doing something wrong?"

You could laugh at the absurdity of his statement, but you don't and just shake your head. "No, baby," you reassure him, beginning to trace slow, tempting circles around his tip. You rub the pad of your thumb against his slit, causing him to moan loudly and scrunch his eyes shut. "You're doing so perfect, I almost wanna taste you."

Matt's eyes fly open, his gaze filled with need. You shrug your shoulders. "Would you like that?" you ask, and he frantically nods.

"Y-yes," he says between breaths and groans. "Please taste me."

You grin, shifting closer and straddling his thighs. You lean down over him, sticking out your tongue to teasingly lick his slit. Matt bucks his hips, whimpering, pushing more of himself into your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise and you pull yourself off of him, looking up to make eye contact with him.

He's gone pale, mouth open and eyes wide as he realizes what he's just done.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry..." he mutters, looking away from your sheepishly.

"Don't be sorry, baby," you reply easily. "It was hot," you add, and Matt's eyes widen, his gaze snapping back to you.

"R-really?" he asks, voice full of pleasant surprise.

"Yeah," you confirm. "You know what else you can do? Grab my hair and push my head down if you want more."

"What?" Matt exclaims, throat bobbing with nervous excitement. "Are you sure? I mean, if you don't want me to- I'm not really very good at this."

"I'm here to make you feel good, Matt," you remind him. "Do whatever you want to me."

The slight change in power dynamic has Matt's heart racing, and his cock twitches just at the thought of watching your head bob up and down on his cock. While he's still creating scenarios in his head, you reach forward and pull his glasses from his face.

"What are you-" Matt cuts himself off as you slide the glasses up your nose, watching him through the lenses. His cheeks turn a bright pink, but you don't give him the chance to say anything else before you get back to work, licking delicate circles around his tip as your hand pumps the lower part of his dick, around the base.

"Fuck!" Matt moans, his head hitting the headboard with a thump from how hard he throws it back. You giggle around his cock at how easily it is for you to rile him.

You continue to bob up and down, your tongue swirling around his cock when all of a sudden you feel his fingers tangle in your hair. He pushes you down further, and with the third thrust of your head you feel him hit the back of your throat. "Shit, that feels so good, mhm..." Matt whimpers, more to himself than you.

His sudden acceptance to be dominant only makes him hotter in your eyes, and you feel your pussy throbbing even more now. Wearing his glasses isn't helping your case. "Fuckkk," he groans, and you close your eyes as the sound echoes in your mind. You love the thought of Matt being yours, all for you to please and pleasure.

"Fuck, I think I'm gonna-" Matt doesn't have the chance to finish his own sentence before you feel a rope of his warm cum shoot into your mouth in quick spurts. You take it all and slowly pull yourself off of him, swallowing the warm liquid.

"Does that feel better, baby?" you ask smugly, looking at Matt's fucked out face as he breathes heavily.

"Mhm, yeah," he mumbles, not entirely there yet. "You make me feel so good."

"You should come to more parties," you tell him, getting up off of the bed to grab some paper towels to clean him up a little. "Then we could do this again."

"Are you serious?" Matt says, eyes wide.

"Of course," you answer, sitting back down next to him and taking off his glasses. You slide them back up his nose so they sit perfectly on his face, then plant a short kiss to his lips. "I'm waiting for my turn, you know?"

Matt remains quiet for a minute, before his cheeks turn bright red. "Oh!" he gasps. "Right- I'm sorry. We should do that now. It's only fair."

"Slow down, pretty boy," you answer, smiling. "I'll let you rest a little. Next time, I promise."

────

AUTHOR'S NOTE PT. 2: needy submissive men are so hot UGHHH this was so fun to write. idk if it's that good tho LOL so lmk

#mattsturniolo #matt sturniolo #sub matt #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo

[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #oneshot #angst #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #idiots in love #mutual pining #famous eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #pathetic gay yearning #fluff #the one that got away #second chances #getting together

[gojoux]

『 𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊? 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Five times he confesses his feelings and one time you say it back.

· CW: 10.7k (I can explain...) // Fluff. Angst. Classic 5+1 trope that I absolutely adore. Reader have trust issues. Just Gojo being whipped for you. Geto being his wingman. Slight jealousy. Heartbroken Gojo. Argument (he did/said something bad but it's not described so it's up to your imagination).

“I like you.”

Gojo confessed proudly with a wide grin adorning his face as he looked down at you. His hands are inside his pocket as he stands in front of your desk.

You look up at him in confusion, “What?”

He looked down at you and tilted his head slightly. “I said, I like you.” His words were direct and his gaze was firm. His hair shifted in the breeze from the opened window.

“Oh...” You can't even find a word to describe your feelings to him, and you're pretty sure it's the first time he confessed his feelings to someone, let alone romantically, and to you. “I, uh, thank you.” You smile awkwardly at him.

His gaze was intense despite his wide smile, like he had a laser focusing on you. “Thank me for accepting my feelings. Let me take you out sometime.” His words were casual as if it wasn't a big deal to confess to you.

He takes a hand out of his pocket to push back his hair. “Do you have someone you like, though?” 

You think for a bit before answering, “I don't think so...” You answer, quite unsurely. “At least, not at the moment.” You give him a small smile at the end.

He hummed in response. “Hmm...” His eyes shifted as he pondered your words. “Does that mean I have the opportunity to win your affection?” He asked as his smile widened. His tone and expression seemed both confident and playful at this moment.

“Well...” Before you could reply to his words, you heard a small snicker on the side. It's Geto watching his best friend confess to you.

Then, you realized, “Are you playing truth or dare?” You ask with a raised brow, your eyes shifting from Gojo to Geto and then back to Gojo again.

His cheeks turn slightly red from your question. He glances at Geto and shrugs. “Maybe it's truth and dare,” he answers sheepishly.

“Would your answer change if it was just truth?” He follows up with a smile. Geto's smirk grows wider as he watches you two. He seemed oddly entertained by Gojo's flirtatiousness.

You rest your back against the chair. “Since you're expressing your feeling because of a game, especially because of a dare, I'd say no.” You look up to him with a somewhat apologetic smile.

Gojo's smile faded from his face as it became clear his attempt to confess had failed. He glanced between you and Geto, who was still smiling at him on the side.

“Suguru...” Gojo hissed quietly. “What?” Geto whispered back with a slight chuckle. Gojo sighed with frustration. “Forget it,” he muttered.

He glanced back at you as he scratched the back of his head. “Sorry if it felt like I was playing with your feelings.”

“No problem.” You shrug casually to dismiss the matter. He walks back to sit in front of Geto, probably continuing to play truth or dare.

The second time he told you he liked you was a week later. You feel him sitting down next to you on the stairs and handing you a drink from the vending machine.

“Thank you.” You answer as you accept the canned drink from his hand. “You're welcome,” he replied. He looked a little tired after his training.

He was silent for a few moments after handing you the drink. His eyes shifted as he looked at you, and then out at the view.  

“Did you know that the sunset has both yellow and orange lights?” He asked you suddenly. His tone was casual but it seemed like he had wanted to tell you something.

The vending machine was on a small landing of stairs, and they faced the view of the sunset. 

“Very beautiful, isn't it?” Your eyes are glued to the view. Gojo followed your gaze. His eyes scanned the scene in front of you, at the horizon of the view and the way the light filtered into the sky.

“Yeah.” His words were slightly distracted. His eyes were not focused on the beautiful sunset, but on the person next to him. “It is. I think sunsets are always beautiful.” 

For some reason, he felt almost compelled to hold your hand. He thought it could be considered a bit too intimate when you're not even together in the first place, but he still wondered if he should do it.

“I enjoy a nice view." He adds, trying to distract himself from these feelings. “Me, too.” You nod in agreement.

His hands clenched into fists. “Mmm.” For whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to hold your hand and make the first move. 

Gojo's eyes followed the movement of the birds and clouds. He seemed content to let you enjoy the moment in peace, but at the same time, he was eager to start talking again.

“I like you,“ he said after a few moments. “Do you understand what I mean by that?” His tone was slightly more serious now.

“Is this another dare?” You ask back with a chuckle as you finally turn your head to look at him beside you.

His eyes met yours, and he didn't crack a smile as your response. “No, this time it's the truth,” he said, sounding slightly embarrassed, and his cheeks turned slightly red. “I'm just trying to tell you how I feel...”

Gojo was not used to confession. He glanced back at the sunset, trying to escape from the situation.

“I like you, too.” You replied with a smile. “You're a great friend.” You take a sip of your canned drink before looking back at the sunset again.

The words ‘friend’ crushed his soul for a few seconds. He thought he was doing better than the previous time. Gojo swallowed the lump in his throat.

His gaze shifted between you and the ground. “...Right,” he finally said.

A tense silence hung between you as you both let the sunset wash over your faces. Gojo thought hard about his words. His eyes gave nothing away but his face betrayed some uncertainty.

“I was hoping we would become more than just friends, though.” He speaks up after a minute of silence.

“Best friends?” You offer. “It will be nice to be your best friend, and I could be your other one besides Geto.” You chuckle, trying to brush off this tingly feeling inside you.

“Best friends...” He repeated the words as if he didn't want to admit that this wasn't what he hoped for. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with these feelings of his not being reciprocated.

“Hey, can I tell you something?” He asked after a few moments of silence. He wanted to share how he felt, even if it wasn't going to go anywhere.

“Sure.” You look at him, waiting for him to speak.

He took a breath and let the words flow freely. “You really are someone I care about, and not just as a friend.” He paused, trying to think of the right words. “I just wanted you to know that... that you mean a lot to me.” A small sincere smile came to his face.

Gojo wasn't used to sharing his feelings quite so openly. He looked down at his hands, which were still clenched into fists.

You stay quiet and then smile at his words. “Aww, thank you.” You can't help but appreciate his efforts to express his feelings since he's not one to do so.

A small grin crossed Gojo's face. He sighed, the tension he felt dissipating a bit. “No problem. And I'm not just saying that either,” he added. “It's the truth. You're a really great person.“

His gaze shifted forward again, watching the clouds move. “Thanks for listening, (Y/N).” He seemed a bit more relieved with that exchange. “It was nice to get that off my chest.”

You smile at his words, glad that he's comfortable enough around you to tell his feelings. Not long after, you get up from your seat and he looks up at you standing up. “I'll be heading back to the dorm.”

“Oh? You're leaving already?” He asks. “Don't you want to enjoy the rest of the sunset?” He pointed out.

The sun was starting to go down, the sky filling with a beautiful orange hue. “If you leave now, you'll miss the best part.”

“I'm getting sleepy, my eyes are heavy.” His eyebrows raised slightly as you were ready to leave. He pushed himself back up, ready to follow you, but he hesitated.

Should he hold your hand like he wanted to? He had confessed to you, but this wasn't a romantic moment anymore. What if he made you uncomfortable? Gojo thought for a few moments, before making his decision.

He reached forward and took your hand, gripping it softly. “I'll head back with you,” he said to you with a small smile on his face.

You were stunned by the feeling of his hand holding yours. He's so warm, and the tingly feeling inside you spreads even more. 

“I can go on my own, you know.” You make no effort to pull your hand away from him. His expression shifted to bashful at your words. “I know. But...” 

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to go with you,” he told you. He gripped your hand a bit tighter as he looked down at it. “Is that okay with you? Or should I let go?”

“No.” You shake your head, not realizing you're squeezing his hand. “It's okay.”

Gojo's chest felt lighter when you said it was okay for him to keep holding your hand. He squeezed your hand back in response.

You both started to walk towards the dorm, his fingers intertwined with yours. It was such a simple action, but it felt so meaningful. He takes a moment to appreciate this gesture, his head turned to see the sunset once more before looking at you again.

In more than three weeks of knowing each other better, Gojo has grown more attached to you. And you can't say that you don't feel the same.

You were now indeed best friends. His feelings for you keep growing, and your feelings also bloom for him. But you tried your hardest to not let that show.

He seemed to have become more confident when it came to expressing his affection for you. But he still didn't seem to have much confidence when it came to flirting or romance, though.

His feelings for you grew with every smile and laugh shared between you both, and he was getting impatient. Every day, he wanted to ask you out, but he wanted to wait for the right moment. He wanted your first date to be perfect.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” He asked you, his eyes lingering on his phone.

“Yeah?” You respond. “Will you go to the cinema with me?” He asks to the point. He put his phone inside his pocket and stood up from his seat.

“Come on.” Without waiting for your answer, he took your hand and led you out of the school building. “There's a movie coming out that I really want to see.” His eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“Whoa, whoa, now?” You ask as you let him drag you away.

“Yeah, why not?” He looks at you confused. He seemed to just expect you to go with him, not even questioning his abrupt proposition. He didn't seem to consider the possible answer could be ‘no’.

Geto who was minding his own business watched the two of you leave with a small smirk. “Oh, you two are finally going out?” He teased. “Yeah! See you later, Suguru!” Gojo's voice fades away after he exits the classroom.

“Why not ask Geto?” You ask him a bit breathless from the long walk and wait for an assistant manager to drive you to your destination. 

“You think I want him to watch us go on a date?” He looked at you with a chuckle. “I just... wanted it to be the two of us,” he explained quietly.

“This is a date?” You ask confused. “We're not dating, though?”

He looks slightly flustered by your words. “Well, that's what I'm hoping to change.” He mumbles to himself. “To be honest, I just wanted to spend time with you.” His tone is still quiet but a little sheepish. 

“Mmm...” You only nod at him.

The assistant manager arrives to drive you to the cinema. He's surprisingly quiet the entire ride, choosing to look outside of the window instead, and he seemed content that way. But he's seated close to you, and his hand itched to hold yours the entire time.

Once you both arrive, he opens the car door for you and gives a nod to thank the assistant manager for taking the two of you there.

The car drives off, and Gojo grabs your hand once more, not wanting to let go as you both enter the mall. You walk side by side, holding hands, and still in your uniform.

“You haven't told me what you want to watch yet?” You ask as you let him lead you toward the cinema.

He grins at you. “I want to watch the newest romantic comedy. You know, the one with the super attractive actors?” He leans in a little closer as he speaks. His hold on your hand becomes slightly tighter. 

“Oh? I didn't expect you to be excited over romantic movies.” You grin playfully at him. Your heart is beating fast from the way he holds your hand.

He chuckles in response. “Oh, I enjoy them. I find them very amusing.” He looks at you with a teasing smile. “Maybe I just like looking at pretty girls in love.”

He glances around the mall but doesn't let go of your hand as the two of you continue walking. His eyes flicker back to you every now and then.

“Pretty girls in love?” You ask again with another chuckle as you shake your head. He nods at your question. “I certainly do,” he answers. “But I feel like you already know that.”

He then looks at you with a slight grin. You feel a subtle tug on the back of your arm as he pulls you closer. “I'd say you're the most beautiful one I know,” he confesses in a soft tone. “So I like looking at you.”

You can feel your heart skip a beat and your face heats up at his words. “What a flirt.” You mumble under your breath.

Gojo chuckles again at your response. "Yeah, yeah. I think I did better than last time." He gives you a wink as you both reach the cinema.

He lets go of your hand for a moment to buy tickets for the two of you, before taking your hand once more as he guides you into the studio where you’re going to be watching the movie.

“When is the movie starting?” You look at him. “The movie?” He seems to be zoning out as he walks with you. “What else?” You ask back. “Oh, I think there's still about 30 minutes before it starts.” He then snaps back to attention. “I mean,” he adds with a chuckle. “Does that mean we have time to grab a snack?”

He pauses as he sees a concession stand in front of you. “There's even cute girls working here.” The last part of the sentence was muttered under his breath.

“Cute girls?” You repeat to yourself quietly, your gaze following him, before shaking your head, letting go of his hand, and walking towards the counter to order some snacks.

Gojo doesn't seem to take too kindly to the fact that you've let go of his hand. He frowns slightly. “Wait, what are you doing?” He glances back down at you with slightly parted lips and wide, questioning eyes. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “I was hoping we could hold hands...” he utters quietly, glancing down at your hand.

“You want to hold my hand while you flirt with the cute worker? No thanks.” You say as you wait in line. You try to ignore the jealous feeling in your heart and play it cool.

His expression is blank when he thinks about what you've just said. “Why would you assume I'm going to flirt with the girl at the stand?” he asks you. He glances at the girls working at the concession stand, and back at you. “They just look cute, that's all.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“We were holding hands a while ago,” He reminds you, a slightly hurt look in his eyes, but he quickly shakes it off.

Then his eyebrows raise slightly and he looks at you with a teasing expression. “Oh, are you jealous?” The two girls working behind the counter exchange a look and share a slight chuckle, clearly having overheard your conversation.

“Why should I be jealous? You're not my boyfriend.” You stuck your tongue out playfully at him.

Gojo's smile fades for a while at your words. He lets out a sigh of irritation, “I wish I was,” he utters quietly. He quickly covers it up again with his usual attitude. “But I could be,” he replies in a teasing tone. In response to your gesture, he makes a face and sticks his tongue out at you.

“Ha, you wished.” You brush him off.

Gojo keeps a smirk on his face, but he's secretly hurt by your words. “Well, if my wish was true, I would make you my girlfriend today,” he utters quietly.

“What are you going to get?” He averts the topic, his voice is slightly quieter than usual and not as playful.

“Package C.” You point out the big screen on the top. He looks at where you’re pointing and nods. The concession stand is busy, and more customers have joined the line behind you.

“I'll just order for the both of us.” He seems annoyed but still keeps a faint smile on his face. You look at him in confusion, stunned by his change of attitude.

Without you realizing it, Gojo has taken a soft spot for you, and he wears his emotions on his sleeves from how comfortable he is around you.

You see that his eyes narrow and you can tell he feels hurt from your words earlier. But that’s your assumption, you don’t want to think too much about it. He steps to the counter himself, and asks the girl working behind it, “Two Package C's, please.”

You both moved to the side after he was done ordering, waiting for your name to be called to pick up your orders.

He leans against the wall with his arms crossed. The two of you quietly wait for your orders as the movie's start time draws closer. He takes a few more glares at you, before sighing. “I think I might have been too harsh,” he mumbles to himself.

His eyes are focused on the counter and you can tell he's still thinking hard about your words. He’s just jealous and hurt, that’s all.

He glances at you in silence until his name is called to pick up the order. “Let's go sit somewhere before the movie starts.” He takes them from the girl behind the counter, he's still upset by how distant he sounds.

“What's wrong?” You finally break the silence once you both find a nearby seat to wait. You can see Gojo's jaw tighten slightly as soon as you speak. He's still struggling with his thoughts.

After a few more seconds, he sighs and gives you a tight grin. “Nothing's wrong,” he answers with a shake of his head. He doesn't seem like his usual, carefree self, but he tries to hide it by maintaining the smile. He’s still bothered by what you said.

“Well, I think something is wrong.” You shift your body slightly to the side to face him. He stares at you in silence for a while. He looks conflicted for a moment as if trying to decide whether he should tell you the truth or keep it to himself.

“I... am a bit upset,” he finally admits after a long pause. He still doesn't give you an explanation, but you can tell that he wants to tell you something important.

“Because...?” You urge him to continue.

“Because of what you said... about not being your boyfriend.” He admits quietly with a hint of sadness in his voice. He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms across his chest after putting the food package to the side. He looks at you with a conflicted gaze, like he wants to say something else.

“But it’s true, right? You’re not.” His eyes narrow at your words. You can see the sadness and disappointment on his face.

“Because I want to be your boyfriend.” Gojo's words seem to surprise you as they surprise him himself. He seems a little embarrassed as he looks back at you, his head tilted in your direction.

“Listen,” he paused for a bit. “I like you, alright?” His eyes flick to you for a split second before looking down at the floor again. “I really do.” His tone is softer, but his words seem firm and honest. He takes a breath, his expression softening slightly.

“I want to be more than just friends with you,” he answers softly. The look on his face seems to beg for confirmation. He wants to know if you feel the same way.

Your breath hitched at his confession. You know that he likes you, but you’re still unsure if he’s actually genuine and able to commit to you or not.

You do trust him as your friend and ally, but you’re still unsure if you could trust your heart to him. And you feel awful for always leaving him hanging from your ambiguous response.

Deep inside, you want to be with him. You just want to be selfish for a while longer, and you promise yourself to make it up to him after you made up your mind.

Fortunately for you in this situation, the studio door is now open, a sign for everyone to start entering. 

“Let's just enjoy the movie for now, okay?” You stand up from your seat.

He frowns, trying not to show his disappointment at you dodging the question. “Of course,” he answers quietly, following your lead and standing up to enter the cinema.

The two of you sit down and start watching the movie, and the mood seems to soften a bit. He's back to his relaxed and playful self as he enjoys the movie.

You notice that his hand is slowly creeping closer to yours. He's still staring intently at the movie but makes no attempt to move his hand away. The tension from the conversation seems to have lifted, making the atmosphere more lighthearted again.

You hear a soft sigh and see him glance at you for a quick moment. He gives you a small smile, before focusing his attention back on the movie.

A few minutes later, his hand rests on top of yours. He focuses on the movie and smiles at some of the scenes. The two of you don't say anything for a while, but Gojo continues to smile as you both enjoy the movie.

“What are you doing?” You try to sound unbothered as you can while sipping your drink.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” He glances at you then turns away quickly, acting as if he's not doing anything, but he keeps his hand on top of yours.

His gaze is focused on the screen, but he's being playfully cheeky with his response. “If you want, I can give you a head pat, too. I hear it's all the rage.” His tone is slightly teasing in response.

“Does my touch bother you?” He adds quietly.

You shake your head before saying, “No,” secretly enjoying the closeness.

He smiles and gives you a light squeeze with his hand. His eyes are still focused on the movie, but from time to time he glances down at your hands. From the way he smiles, you can tell he's enjoying this moment just as much as you.

The joy is clear on Gojo's face as he watches the movie. He's giggling and laughing at all the right places and even nudges you at some points to share his laughter while keeping his hand on top of yours for most of the movie.

He leans in a little closer as the credits start to roll. “Hey.” He leans in a little closer as if he's about to whisper something into your ear.

“Yes?” You tried to guess what he could have possibly said with your heart beating faster.

His eyes are focused on your face, and he doesn't seem to be distracted by the credits or people leaving the cinema around you.

“I really enjoyed today,” he says rather quietly. His smile seems genuine and he gives you a small nod. “I like being with you,” he continues. “Can we do it again sometime?”

You let a smile escape your lips, “Of course.” You nod. “Thank you for taking me here today.”

“No problem,” he answers with a grin. He pulls his hand away slightly and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This was fun.”

As the credits continue to roll, the lights dim again. You can hear people start to talk and slowly leave the cinema. “Do you wanna stay here a little longer?”

You lean back in your seat, looking at the credit scene with the music in the background. “Maybe a bit more.”

He smiles and leans against the back of his seat as well. He rests his head on your shoulder ever so slightly as you both look at the credits. 

You try to keep your body relaxed when you feel his cheek on your shoulder. But the atmosphere is surprisingly comfortable, you like it.

“Do you have plans afterward?” He asks. “I was thinking that maybe we could go out for some ramen.” A faint blush spreads across his face. He looks at you expectantly, the credits still rolling in the background.

“Do you know a place for any ramen shops you recommend?” 

“Actually, I know a ramen shop pretty close to Jujutsu High," he answers. “It's a small, local family business. It's a personal favorite of mine.”

He smiles brightly and grabs your hand again. “Come on, I'll take you there.” His tone is cheerful as he sits straight again.

“You don't mind if I hold your hand, do you?”

“Why would you want to hold my hand, though?” 

His grin falters slightly and he gives you a sidelong glance. “Because I like holding your hand,” he answers simply. He squeezes your hand slightly, his thumb gently brushing against your palm.

You already know that he's the type to go into people's personal spaces— those he considers as friends though— and he's very touchy as well. 

Circling an arm behind Shoko's chair and sometimes he ends up putting his hand on her shoulder, resting his weight on Geto while they talk, and he seems to enjoy touching your hand.

And you can't lie to yourself and say you don't like it.

Your day continues with him taking you to his recommended ramen shop and treating your meals until you're satisfied, because that's what he's intended to do.

The fourth time Gojo confessed his feelings was not long after your cinema hangout, or what he would call it a date instead.

His confession is rather different this time.

There are constant texts from Gojo on your phone, but his messages are never dull. They're filled with poems, flirty memes, and even his own original drawings and photos.

He sends you love poems, quotes with romantic context, and even pictures of landscapes that he found interesting.

He even sends you a few poems by Shikibu Izumi and Ono no Komachi, a few of the most famous poets of the Heian period.

You're not even surprised to receive these messages anymore. In fact, it's expected and makes you smile each time. Gojo is just being Gojo. And Gojo likes you, a lot.

He would send you texts out of nowhere regarding time and places like,

“I just want to hold your hand,” followed by a long message of poetry.

“Your beauty makes me weak.”

“You're everything I've ever wanted.”

“I've been thinking about you all day.”

“Every day, just seeing your face is enough to make me feel so happy.”

“I just want to be yours, forever and always.”

Or sometimes like, 

“Did you know the moon and sun both revolve around each other? Just like how we do, because we were meant to be together.”

And even more random text like,

“The day is beautiful, just like you.”

“Do you know what my favorite part of the day is? It’s seeing your beautiful face in the morning, of course.”

“Do you know what my favorite thing to do together is? It’s playing Momotaro Dentetsu together, just you and me.”

“Do you know the best thing about you? You always have such a contagious smile, my lovely one.”

Every text he sends you always makes your heart soar with happiness. It makes you smile wide in public and squeal to yourself in your room.

He keeps blowing on the wind that makes your heart fly so high. You just hope that he won't stop blowing the wind when your heart reaches up high so you won't crash and fall to get it shattered to pieces. 

There is no way you could ignore his sweet text like that, can you?

You would always reply back with some emojis or compliments, sometimes you would share a few videos and pictures. That's enough to keep him going, and he keeps getting bolder with his words.

When you're busy with your school assignment and could only reply with one text such as,

“You're so sweet. Thank you.”

He would reply with more text,

“What? I'm just being honest, my love. I'm not even close to being sweet enough for you.”

“What are you doing right now? I hope you're having a good day, you deserve it.”

He always grins when he waits for your reply, or at least until you read his text. His fingers always tingle when he texts you. He still can't believe that you haven't turned him down.

It's always making your heart race when he calls you pet names, and you're not even dating. He's just so comfortable using them on you.

On one fine day, you were eating lunch with Shoko while you told her about Gojo. She sits across from you, listening to you talk. She takes bites of her food as she listens to your stories.

You tell him about Gojo's constant flirting and how he's been sending you poems and love quotes. You mention that he also asked you out to get some food together.

“He really likes you, you know that right?” Shoko asks you matter-of-factly. From her expression, it doesn't seem as if she's surprised by the news. “It's starting to sound like you have a crush on Gojo,” she teases lightly.

You let out a loud sigh. “Because I do...” You mumble.

“So you still haven't officially started dating?” She looks over at you with a skeptical expression. “Why's that?”

“He's so blatantly flirting with you and you're so obviously into him. What's keeping you two from becoming a couple?” She tilts her head in curiosity.

“He's very popular among the girls, why would he pursue me out of all people?” You let out another sigh. “I'm just... afraid of getting my feelings hurt.” You admit before taking another bite of your food.

Shoko leans back in her chair. “He's so fond of you, it's obvious. The way he keeps texting you, the things he says. It's almost like he's head over heels.”

“What I'm trying to say is...” She pauses, looking for the right words to say. “I see how he looks at you. If he didn't have a genuine thing for you, he would have given up a long time ago.”

You consider her words carefully in silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Geto appears and pats you on the back. “Hey, (Y/N), Shoko,” he looks at you and Shoko and then back at you.

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you mind coming with me for a while?” He asks you. You shrug and set your lunch aside. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

“Just come with me.” He walks away and you follow not far behind with Shoko also deciding to tag along. He leads you toward the training field.

There is Gojo in the middle of the field, with huge neatly arranged words of I LOVE YOU with red rose petals on the grass.

“Oh, my...” You look at the sight, speechless.

Even Shoko is stunned beside you.

“Hmm, I wonder who that could be for?” Geto chuckles and glances at you.

Gojo smiles brightly from the training field when he sees you, “(Y/N)~!!” he waves in your direction.

He holds one stamp of red rose and walks past the stairs to you. He looks confident and proud as if expecting a positive response. He holds out the rose in his hand to you which you gladly accept.

“I thought today would be a perfect day for a little surprise.” He looks genuinely happy to see you. He continues to smile as you take in the flower display. “So, what do you think?” His eyes focused intently on you, watching your every reaction.

“That is...” You try to find a word to describe it, “Beautiful.” Your eyes are locked on the field. The red rose petals look beautiful on the green field.

“I’m glad you like it.” His face breaks out into a broad smile. “Come, let me show you from up close.” He grabs your hand and leads you down the stairs toward the field where the roses are.

He doesn’t mind Geto and Shoko far behind, he’s just focused on you right now.

He walks over to the flower display and leans forward, picking up one of the roses. He turns to you and offers you the flower.

“Here, this one's for you.” His voice is gentle as he hands you the red rose. You can see the happiness in his eyes. “I didn’t get you roses for nothing.” He tilts his head to the side slightly as he smiles at you.

“How long does this take you to arrange?” You look at the small roses scattering on the grass.

He’s lucky that today isn’t windy, an impulsive reason why he just drags Geto to the field and tells his plan to set this up right away without any preparation except for his imagination on what he wants it to look like.

“That?” He gestures to the flower arrangement in front of you. “I just did it this morning, took about a few hours,” he answers casually. “It was worth it though,” he adds softly, his gaze drifting towards your hands.

Your fingers are still interlocked with his and he leans closer to you, still gripping your hand. “You know I like you, don't you?” His grip on your hand tightens slightly but still holds gently to you and caresses the back of your hand.

“Thank you for all this.” Your smile widens. He hums softly. He reaches up and strokes your head lightly. “You’re welcome.” He leans his head close to yours to kiss your cheek.

“Come.” He smiles at you brightly. He caresses the back of your neck gently as he steps back as if giving you space. “You should pick a rose. I think it would look good on you.”

“Okay.” You nod, feeling shy all of a sudden. His gaze is fixed on you, watching as you reach out to take a flower.

The rose you’ve chosen is a vibrant shade of red, one of the brighter roses among all the other blooms. It’s the perfect flower for you, with the color perfectly matching your hair and overall vibe.

“Here,” he carefully pins the rose behind your ear. The red petals fluttered in the sunlight, the rose contrasting beautifully with your hair. His gaze is still locked in on you as he adjusts the flower.

“Well, isn’t this a cute sight.” A faint smile appears on Shoko’s face as she watches from far away with Geto.

“I guess this settles it all.” The man beside her chuckles. “Satoru has been preparing this since the morning. He looks all happy about it.”

“Maybe next time, those two can go on a date.” He adds, with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Once they officially start dating, that is.”

Gojo gently pushes the rose further up behind your ear with a smile. “I’ve said it many times now,” he chuckles, his voice sounding like music in your ears. He seems to be taking in every detail of your appearance.

“I wanted you to know that you’re all I think about during the day. And you’re all that I’m dreaming about at night.”

Gojo takes a step closer to you and lightly grabs your hand again. “So, what do you say?” His gaze is still locked on you.

“Let’s make this day a special one.” He looks at you expectantly, his face shows how excited and cheerful he is. He leans in close to you, his hand still tight in his grip on yours. The display of red roses in front of you seems to be a clear message.

You blink a few times and try to calm down your fast-racing heart before speaking, “I—” until it's interrupted by Yaga calling out to him, “Satoru!” making both of you look in the direction.

Yaga seems to appear in between Geto and Shoko who looks both surprised and apologetic since they knew you two are in the middle of something.

His smile drops instantly when Yaga calls out to him. He slowly pulls away from you and turns his attention toward the direction of the voice. “Damn it.” He curses under his breath with a look of annoyance crosses his face.

“I need you to come to my office.” He calls out again before turning to Geto beside him, “You, too, Suguru.” He adds before walking away.

“I gotta go.” He suddenly pulls you closer for a quick hug. “We’ll continue this later alright?” He pulls away from you and starts to follow after Yaga and Geto ahead of him.

Shoko walks down the stairs to approach you. “So, did you accept his confession?” She asks while looking at Gojo and Geto’s back.

You look down at the rose he gave you before looking up and turning to see the rose petals that he had arranged.

“No, I didn’t.”

The fifth time he confessed was when you gave him the silent treatment after he did something that didn't please you.

“I know that I really upset you, but I'm really sorry.”

“Please, (Y/N),” he begs your forgiveness. “I just really don't want to lose you.”

Gojo’s texts come through every 10 minutes or so. He’s desperate for you to respond.

“I messed up, and I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again.”

“Just... Can you, please?”

“Don't ignore me all day.”

“Please, just listen to me.”

His texts slowly get more frequent as time goes by. They start coming in every couple of minutes. You can see the urgency and anxiety his texts convey as he tries to get a hold of you.

You don’t want to block his contact, just because. But you keep ignoring him, too mad to even think of something to say to him, and right now, you don’t have any energy to deal with this.

It doesn’t stop there. He keeps following you just to explain himself to you, hoping that your view of him won't change because of what he has done.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sounds sincere when he approaches you. “I made a mistake.” He tries to take your hand but you pull it away.

“(Y/N), what do I have to do to make up for it? Do you want me to buy you something? I will.” His eyes look sad now, not the confident, cocky look you usually associate with him.

“It won't happen again, I swear.” He looks at you longingly. “Please, I'm begging you.”

“Can you stop following me?” You frown at him, not happy with his presence, something you'd never expect to feel around him.

“No.” He answers bluntly, sounding stubborn. He holds out his hand again. “I'm not leaving yet.” He steps in front of you. “I'm sorry...” He sounds hurt.

“I just want to be with you, (Y/N). Can we please just talk and forget about this whole thing?” His tone is insistent now. “I know I can make it up to you if you just give me the chance.” He continues to look at you with a pleading expression on his face.

“Just leave me alone, can you?” You step back away from him. “You’ve done enough. I don’t want to be around you right now.”

Your words seem to hit Gojo like a ton of bricks. He stays silent for a moment, his face looking like he’s in a slight panic. “But... (Y/N)..." He takes a step towards you, trying to take your hand. He sounds desperate when he speaks to you now.

“Do you really mean that?” He looks at you with a sad, but pleading look in his eyes. Gojo's hands go to his sides as he tries to look as small as he can. “If you give me one last chance, I'll be the best boyfriend ever. I promise.” His voice breaks a bit.

“Gojo.” Your voice is warning now, you don’t want to deal with this even further, knowing that you might say something you’ll regret later.

He goes quiet for a moment, looking down at the floor and adjusting his glasses. He seems to be holding himself back from saying anything. “Okay.” His voice is soft, almost like a whisper. “I'll just go then, and leave you alone, like you want.”

“I’m sorry...” You can see him taking off his glasses and wipe his eyes slightly as he leaves. “But you better not forget that I love you. I always will.” He turns his head slightly to look back at you.

He starts to walk away before he suddenly stops and turns back.

“Oh, right…” He suddenly reaches into his pocket and takes out a single rose. He offers it to you with a sad smile. “Here, this is for you.” His hand stays outstretched, holding the rose close to you. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“If you’ll take this, that is. Please?” Gojo’s voice sounds desperate and he gives you a soft, almost puppy-like look. His eyes are filled with longing as he gazes at you, the rose held out in his hand.

“I'm not accepting your apology and your confession.” You cross your arms and look away, unconsciously letting the words impulsively spill out from your upset mind.

The small smile quickly disappears from Gojo’s face as your reply reaches his ears. He stares at you as you speak in disbelief. “Huh?”

“Why not?” His hand slowly starts to lower by his side, the rose he holds slowly falling onto the ground. “After everything I’ve done for you?” His voice sounds confused as he starts to speak slowly. “You’re still not going to accept?”

“Loving you will just hurt me in the end.” You don’t even know what you’re saying.

You’re hurt from what he did, from what he said. And your mind is telling you to hurt him back.

You don’t want to, but you did it anyway.

“How could you say that?” He quickly steps forward. The rose still lies abandoned at your feet. “How could loving me ever hurt you?” He looks at you with a confused expression.

“(Y/N), I just— I don’t understand how that makes any sense.” His voice quickly turns from confusion to anger. “I’ve spent months trying to make you mine and now you’re telling me ‘it doesn’t matter’?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, “It’s you who are the one so persistent. Don’t blame me if you don’t get what you want.”

Your comment catches Gojo off guard, making his jaw clenches. “You don’t mean that…” Another hurt expression creeps onto Gojo’s face.

“I just love you too much, okay? Is that so wrong?” He starts to step towards you while talking. “I don’t care how hard it is, I don’t care how much it hurts, I just— want to love you, (Y/N).”

Your lips tremble, trying to surpass your mixed emotion. “Don't expect me to return your love, then.” You walk past him, stepping on the small rose petal that he dropped on the floor earlier. Like you’re stepping on his feelings.

“Wait—” Gojo quickly tries to grab your hand, stopping you from moving away as quickly as you were trying to.

“I’m telling you, I’ll make this up to you. Just give me some time, please.” He looks at you desperately, still clutching onto your wrist. “I can change, (Y/N). You just have to give me the chance.”

“Give me a chance, will ya? Just let my love wash over you and let me sweep you off your feet.” His voice sounds almost like a plea now. “You’ll be so happy, I know you will.”

“You say you won’t let love hurt you, but that’s exactly what love is all about.” He says softly. “Love makes you want it even when it hurts.”

You wriggle your wrist in his hold, your eyes keep glaring at him. “Just stop trying. I don’t want it.”

“No, I can't.” The frustration clearly reaches his voice. “I need you to know how much I love you, (Y/N). Please just hear me out, alright?” His expression is starting to become pleading again

 “I can't stop now. I just— I know you're the right one. I will not give up on convincing you. Just— just don't walk away. I'll do whatever it takes, alright?”

You’re listening, to every single word he says. But with your emotions right now, you act like you didn’t.

“Gojo.” You say his name sternly again. “Let me go.”

He shakes his head stubbornly and pulls you into a tight hug. “You don't mean any of the cold things you're saying, do you?” His voice sounds desperate as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I can't give up now. I'm in too deep and you know I can't back down.”

You grasp the side of his uniform. “Please, stop.”

“You're just lying to yourself. I know you don't mean any of this.” He pulls back slightly and looks at you intensely, his tone now annoyed. “I just want to love you. I want to make you happy. Is that so hard to understand?”

He cups your face gently despite the tense situation and a frown on his face. You could see his emotions clearly without his glasses.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don't care.” Gojo looks at you as if trying to prove a point.

You stay silent, not knowing what to say because he’s right, before saying the only thing that crosses your mind, “I don't want to deal with you right now.”

He doesn't speak for a moment, he looks conflicted, and he takes a small step back. “Alright.” He sighs quietly and looks at you for a few moments.

“I'll let go of you now.”

“But I'm not giving up yet.” He gives you a brief smile before turning away. “I promise I'll make it up to you.”

The weight of the air changes as Gojo’s presence fades into the background. He leaves, his hands in his pockets.

A couple of days have passed and you and Gojo are still not on the best of terms. You continue to avoid talking to him and any interactions you have to have seem cold and awkward.

Gojo, on the other hand, is still determined to make you return his feelings.

He seems to have accepted that you’re avoiding him now. Despite this, you’ll occasionally catch him glancing at you from across the room as if longing for the moment when you’ll finally forgive him and give him a chance.

You two still have many of the same classes together, so you’re practically bound to be in the same room even if you avoid each other as much as possible.

It makes Geto and Shoko confused because— what just happened between you two?

You were lovey-dovey the other day, and distant now.

Ah, young, stupid love.

You find it hard to talk to him without getting annoyed or frustrated at him. And yet, you find yourself wondering where he is or what he’s doing. You find yourself paying more attention to him than you should.

Until one day, you can’t find him anywhere after lessons.

You walk around the school casually as if you’re not looking for him.

The weather is windy, and it looks like it's about to rain. The wind blows softly on your hair, and the breeze has an oddly refreshing feeling that is not too far from the start of a rainstorm.

You finally found him on the stairs that lead to the training field. The place where he confessed with many red rose petals on the grass, hours of effort to surprise you and make you happy, all put to waste.

You remember smiling the whole time you picked up the petals once he left, replaying the words over and over again in your head.

You kept them inside a small bag where you cherished thousands of rose petals of his love declaration for you.

His head is ducked down against his arms on his knees as if taking a break. His glasses have fallen on the ground. One of his hands holds a single rose, the bright shade of red almost looking artificial in its vibrancy.

“Gojo?” You call out to him, soft and quiet, for the first time after days of not talking to him.

Gojo’s head jerks towards you and his eyes quickly open as he sees you walking towards him. He doesn’t immediately speak, instead focusing on observing your every move with a thoughtful expression on his face.

His hand shifts, the rose he holds changing position in his grip.

“(Y/N)?” He looks at you, his eyes wider than usual. He looks down at the rose in his hand and smiles briefly. The wind gently blows his hair as he glances at you.

“It's been a while.” He says awkwardly. “How have you been?”

You sit down next to him, looking at the field as you enjoy the breeze. “Good… maybe.” You answer shortly, not sure if you can say you’re actually okay. “You?”

“I've been better.” His voice is slightly quieter than normal as he places the rose next to him. “I feel bad for the stuff that happened between us a few days ago.” He looks at you before speaking up again. “I'm still sorry.”

A couple of seconds pass as neither of you speak. Both of you seem hesitant to start a conversation after what happened last time.

“I know we haven’t spoken in a few days, but I just want to say...“ He stops talking briefly before continuing to speak again. “... I understand if you don't want to speak to me and I'm sure you're still mad, but—“

He hands you the flower. “The rose is for you. I picked it up for you earlier.”

You accept the rose. “Thank you.” You say quietly. “Why were you picking up roses?”

“No reason, really.” He answers casually while looking out towards the field. “I just saw it and I thought of you. I was thinking of you.” 

“That’s sweet.” You admire the rose in your hand. He must have chosen the best one from the garden, it might be the most beautiful one he gave you.

The rose on your hand is like a silent confession and apology. It reminds you of the single rose petal that he dropped on the floor and you step on back then.

You noticed how he was more reserved around you ever since that talk in the empty hallway, and you just need to know, “Are you okay?”

He sighs and looks away, avoiding your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds, giving you an answer that sounds less than truthful. “Yeah, I'm fine.” He then looks at you again. “Don't worry so much about me.”

A brief moment of silence passes. Gojo glances down at the rose next to him for a few seconds before looking back at you. “What are you doing out here?”

This time, you’re glad that you let the word slip out, “I was looking for you.”

He looks at you with eyes filled with curiosity. “Why were you looking for me?” His voice sounds softer now. “Did you need something?” A faint smile appears on his face as he continues to look at you.

“Is this a chance at reconciliation?” He gives a half-hearted chuckle as he asks, deep down hoping you’ll accept him, again.

“Or were you missing me that much already?” The teasing tone is back but it holds some genuine curiosity and a hint of hope. “Are you finally trying to admit that you missed having me around?” He glances at you from the corner of his eye.

His hand picks up a single fallen rose petal next to his feet. He quickly grabs it and places it on your hand that is still holding the rose with a small smile on his face.

Your lips tremble at his gesture as you try to hold back the tears and you look away to calm yourself down with a few small deep breaths before looking down at the rose.

“You were right.”

“About what?” He asks in response as he looks at you. “What's right?”

“About that day, when we argue.” You admit. “You were right... I didn't mean what I said. I was just too upset with you that time.”

“Well, I did take things too far.” His expression softens as you speak. “I made you angry that day.”

You look down at the rose once more before looking at him again to ask the same question, “Are you really okay?”

The question is clearly getting to him and his small smile soon fades away. He looks away from you, giving his answer carefully. “Not really.” He finally admits. His voice is softer, almost sad.

“I know I screwed things up between us.” A couple of more seconds pass. “I know I messed it up bad this time.”

“But, can I tell you something?” He looks at you expectantly.

“Yes. Of course.” You keep your eyes on him, listening for what he has to say.

“I know I've made a lot of mistakes, but I still want to keep trying. You know how I feel about you… I haven't changed my mind either.” He looks at you for a few moments.

“I also know I’ve kind of, well… been bothering you this whole time.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I just can’t seem to get you off my mind.”

“Can’t escape those eyes either…” His eyes are slowly lured towards your own. His expression is almost pensive. “I just want to be with you, (Y/N).”

He looks in front of the fields, recalling that morning when he lays every single rose petal on the grass, only hoping that it could impress you.

He also recalls his first confession to you because of a dare from Geto. He already liked you before then, the dare was just the first small step that his best friends have set up for him.

He sighs again, “Maybe you're right. My love is doomed to fail... but I can't stop loving you, even though you don't feel the same.” He pauses for a few seconds before adding, “I keep trying so hard because it’s you.”

Small droplets fall from the gloomy sky and the wind blows softly, making the tiny droplets of rain feel like a slight sprinkle of coolness across your skin. The wind picks up, the few raindrops turning into a drizzle.

Gojo doesn’t mind the rain. He’s pouring out his heart like the cloud is pouring out rain right now, it increases in volume.

You stand up and kneel down in front of him, still holding the rose with one hand and another cupping his cheek, noticing how sad his eyes look.

You finally say the words he’s been desperate to hear, and they roll out your tongue just right,

“I love you, too.”

Gojo stares at you in disbelief, his eyes slowly widening as he processes your words. He remains motionless for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond. His eyes look shocked for a moment as if he truly did not expect these words from you.

“Huh?” He seems unable to register your words or understand fully what you mean. The rain drops down on his face, but he's too distracted to care.

“What did you just say?” He takes in a breath and turns your head to him. “Did you just— I'm sorry, can you repeat that again? Please…” He seems almost too stunned to respond properly.

You smile as you look at him deep in his wide eyes before saying it again with much more assuringly, “I love you.”

The rain continues to fall and Gojo lets the words sink in. “You love me too?” He repeats, as if trying to make sense of the words.

“You mean it?” He stares at you with hopeful eyes, looking between you and the rose in your hand as if trying to convince himself you really did just say the words he thought he heard.

“Please tell me I didn't misunderstand you earlier.” He sounds almost too shocked, to the point where he almost doubts your words.

You shake your head with a smile remaining on your face. “No, you didn’t.” Your thumb slowly caresses the wet skin of his cheek.

“You really aren't kidding?” He smiles for a moment before his face turns into one of pure surprise again. “You're— you're not just saying that to mess with me, right?” He looks at you as if expecting a joke to follow your response.

“Say it again. Say the words once more.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction, but you don’t mind saying it over and over again just for him.

“Satoru.” You finally called him by his given name. “I love you. I always do.”

His eyes still wide with surprise he blinks rapidly before a wave of realization passes over his face as he stares at you earnestly.

“You mean it, right?” He holds onto your hand. His expression goes from surprised to happy in just a split second. He looks at you with genuine joy as his eyes light up.

“Say it again, (Y/N). Say it again.” This time, his voice sounds less desperate and more like a request. “It would make me so happy to hear it one more time.”

“How many times do you want me to say this?” You chuckle in amusement, but you say it again anyway, “I’m absolutely in love with you.” You say it once more with a bit of exaggeration but you mean it regardless.

His hand starts to reach out to your face. “Now come here. I'm dying to finally kiss you.” His voice is soft, filled with all the anticipation from those past few months.

He pulls you closer, settling you between his thighs, almost on his lap as he pulls you into a strong embrace. He grips your body tightly to him as the rain begins to pour harder.

“I've waited long enough to kiss you,” Gojo says as he brings his face close to yours. You feel your heart beating faster now as his warm breath tickles your skin. Gojo's eyes seem as intense now as the first time he confessed to you.

“Can you say you want it too?” His eyes search yours in anticipation. “Say you want my kiss.”

“Can I have your kiss?” You do what he said with an extra, “Please?”

“That's what I needed to hear.” He smiles and leans down slowly, “Let's make this a good one.” He pressed his soft lips on yours as soon as he finished his sentence. The touch is gentle but passionate, the feeling of his body keeping you warm against the rain falling down on both of you.

He kisses you deeply, with all the pent-up emotion from those past few months, and he leans back after a little while and stares at you, grinning from ear to ear as rain droplets run down your face.

He didn’t say a word before he leaned to kiss you again. He holds you close, bringing you in tight as he runs his fingers through your hair.

His lips are cold in the rain, but they feel good on yours. His warm breath mingles with yours and his arms hold you close. Your lips tingle with the sensation of the cold rain while your body feels the warmth of his body against yours.

His eyes are shut tight and his lips almost seem hungry for yours. He doesn't seem to want to break away from the kiss as his hand holds your cheek to him.

As the rain falls heavily around you, Gojo’s passion seems to burn hotter as he holds you close.

He pulls away and his voice is barely audible as he speaks to you. “I'm glad you finally admitted it.”

“Yeah, it took me long enough.” You say that more to yourself.

Both of you are completely soaked from the rain, his hair is sticking to his forehead and both of your clothes are wet.

“Well, it looks like you already said the magic words.” He leans in and kisses your forehead before standing up and pulling you up as well. “How about another kiss then, since you're already so talkative?”

“Give it to me, then.” You put both hands on his shoulder, one still holding the rose.

“Gladly.” He doesn't hesitate in leaning on you again, wrapping his arm around your waist more intimately and pulling you closer to him.

He pressed his lips against yours in a deeper kiss. If possible, Gojo seems even more affectionate than usual as he pulls you into a tight embrace, his tongue finding a home inside your mouth and his hand gently gripping the material of your uniform.

A faint sound escapes from his throat after a couple of minutes, almost like he's trying to catch his breath. “I love you, (Y/N).”

You’re breathless from the kiss, “I love you, too.” You nuzzle your nose on his.

“I'm so happy...” His voice is filled with emotion, like he's completely intoxicated with love towards you. His grip on you loosens slightly, though he still holds you close.

“Are we dating then?” He smiles at you and brings his hand up to pat your head. “I just want things to be official between us.”

“Hmm, I think so.” You rest your cheek on his body, enjoying the closeness of your body.

His smile widens as he presses his lips against your forehead. “I want you to know, I don't want to have secrets between us.” He runs his fingers through your wet hair. “I want to have more moments like this.” He pulls you closer again, this time placing a kiss on your lips again.

Gojo takes one of your hands between his own, feeling the rose that you kept on holding in your hand as he gently rubs your fingers.

“You're mine, right?”

“Always yours.”

The rose was his heart. You accepted it once and you stepped on it once. He gave you his once more, and you hold it close to your heart.

Writing confession 5 and 6 got me emotional ಥ‿ಥ

#ೋღ—物語. #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo scenario #gojo imagine #gojo fanfiction #gojo fic

[dimepdf]

★  𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that Miguel is the bane of your existence, the way you react during training proves otherwise.

─── ☆ notes. i need fics of miguel being an absolute dick, like a petty bitch just for the hell of it i need more attitude yk? Like if that man isn't calling me a slut it ain't canon! | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 4.3k (33 min read).

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | no spoilers | smut, enemies to lovers, maybe mutual pining, fighting and violence, semi public sex, gym sex, mentions of abuse, size difference, pain kink, strength kink, degradation kink, manhandling, power play(?), begging, rough sex, cervix kissing, choking, fangs, biting, marking, cunnilingus, eye contact, hair pulling, creampie, open ended, not an taiyo fic without a few typos.

IF YOU ASKED any of the other Spider-men what they loved so much about being Spider-Man, their answers would all be the same, ranging from "the suit" to "the enhanced abilities." It was a no-brainer that being a superhero came with a few awesome perks.

Which was why your answer was just a bit confusing, "the combat." You would always smile, despite the many eyebrows raises and looks that convinced you you had to be some type of overcover masochist, especially since you would never really go into true detail about why.

Your reasoning behind putting on the mask was similar to all the others: another traumatized kid being thrown into a whole new reality that you never would have dreamed of being possible.

Sadly, you had been raised with the loss of most of your loved ones, and your family was in shambles from the abuse you would go through from them. It was the reason why it was difficult for you to grow up and make many friends, let alone navigate your abilities on your own accord, which was why it was a whole different ball game when you first joined the spider society.

When you first met Miguel O'Hara, you thought he was an overly intimidating man with an even more scary personality. Your aesthetics and morals would clash in the first few run-ins you would have with him.

In all honesty, you first thought him to be a massive dick who surprisingly needed more therapy than you did. From his bored expression to his unnerving glare, it was clear upon the first introduction that you two just would not get along.

Which was why the universe made him the only spider person willing and with enough free time to train you. It came as a surprise to you both, who are usually butting heads. Miguel was adamant about not wanting to waste his time training some little girl who didn't even know how to throw a punch.

With much shit-talking on your part and a lot of teasing claims of him being afraid that you were going to kick your ass, training had quite literally started in full swing.

It was probably a bad move on your part to push the buttons of the guy who was teaching you how to fight. Miguel was clear with his fight-style techniques. He was nimble with his limbs and swift on his feet. It was hard for anyone to get a hit on him, especially since he wasn't the type to hold back his punches. 

His teaching style was the same: your sessions included throwing you around as if you were some ragdoll and picking you up as if you weighed nothing, just to slam you into the ground with full bruising force.

There would be some very rare occasions when you would manage to get the upper hand on him. Miguel was about a foot taller than you, not to mention how pathetically compressed you looked standing next to him. You learned that the only way you could manage to get the upper hand was by using your size difference to your advantage.

All the sessions you won were hosted by you managing to tangle yourself from his claws and climb his towering figure into a headlock, praying that you had enough strength in your legs to make him tap out.

"How is she not dead yet?" Miles would mutter, looking concerned, as he stood from the sidelines of the training room, watching one of your sessions, as the blonde by his side didn't even wince at the sound of Miguel untangling you from the headlock you had him in.

His arms moved faster than you could process as he managed to loosen your hold enough to slam the air from your lungs as you fell back facing against the mat so hard that even Miles was convinced he could feel the blow in the lower spine.

"I mean, at this point, I'm kind of convinced she’s turned into his personal punching bag." Miles strains to watch Miguel not even wipe a sweat as he sprung back on his feet. He stretched out his full body, towering over you, curled flat against the mat, trying to collect your breathing as well as your broken ego.

Gwen nodded in agreement. "I don't even know how someone could hit someone so...squishy? She’s just so cute." She muttered, watching with her arms crossed. 

"This punching bag needs to learn that in the real world, people aren't going to go as easy on her just because she’s cute." Miguel, despite glaring at the two bystanders, leaned down and yanked you back onto your stumbling feet. 

Your fingers combed through the matted curls now drenched in sweat away from your forehead, using your water break as the perfect excuse to help cover up the reaction to the sudden compliment that came from his lips and the way he had made you feel.

"And her being my personal punching bag is completely at her fault, if you want to learn how to fight, you have to learn how to take a few punches." You couldn't help but roll your eyes and wave your hand out in annoyance at another one of Miguel O’Hara’s famous lectures.

"I’m not a punching bag, did you not see the hold I had on him early?" You huffed, almost choking on your water, trying to protest. Gwen humored your claim, the blonde reaching out and rubbing your shoulder out of support as you continued with your defense. "Any tighter, and I would have easily snapped his neck."

Of course, Miguel only smirked as you continued grasping at straws at the point of trying to prove to your friends your improvement, his eyes flitting back and forth at the exchange, expressionless at the sight of you managing to still joke around as if you weren't about to pass out from fatigue at any second.

"And was that before or after the part where I kicked your ass, little girl?" He shot out, chipping away at the final lock that held back your annoyance, you hadn't even had time to process the insult before he bumped his shoulder into you on his way out of the training room.

His rude exit enticed a round of reactions from Miles and Gwen trying their awkward best to comfort the boiling pot of anger they saw written all over your face, rolling your eyes, you pushed past the two, not without grumbling a string of insults in Miguel’s name to the washrooms.

You blessed the spider lords for somehow having the ability to shower under running water, let alone the unexplainable strange amount of amenities that the spider society dimensions had. 

Like a web shooter's wonderland, you quickly shed the sweating clothes you trained in and stepped foot into the cold cubicle shower booth, letting the water run for a bit until enough steam fogged clouded stepping under the stream. Even with the hot water splashing pressure against your aching muscles, no amount of water could manage to wash away the annoying feeling in your legs. 

It was enough of a jab at your pride to even find Miguel attractive in the first place, and here your body was betraying you once more, begging, throbbing desperately for his every touch in its every form, and having the nerve to grow more intense during your training.

The feeling had yet to fully disappear the next day, even with your session starting off with you fueled from yesterday's comments. You tried pushing the feeling as you were just ready to have Miguel mutter another word insult with the ass kick you were ready to give him. It was the only possible explanation for why you were so jittery about getting to training on time.

"It took you long enough." Was the first thing you heard Miguel announce throughout the empty room.

He wasn’t wearing his suit—neither of you did while training—instead, he was wearing dark gray sweatpants paired with some random dark red graphic shirt that fit him a bit too snuggly to leave room for imagination around his arms.

"Almost thought you were gonna skip out."

You were aware enough to spot this quick observation of your outfit as well. Keeping it casual and opting for better mobility, you shimmied yourself into plain Nike shorts that stopped higher up than you had expected them to on your thighs with a loose tank top that peeked out the straps of your sports bra.

Nothing about your clothes screamed attention grabbing—at least that's what you thought before you caught Miguel’s red-tinted stare on the way your shorts hugged your thighs.

He glanced away, muttering something in Spanish you couldn't quite translate the moment your fingers fidgeted with the bottom hems of the shorts, tugging them slightly more down while deciding to break the tense silence that had managed to sneak up on you. "So what are we doing today?"

"Huh, I’ve been thinking." He answered, followed by the clearing of his throat, "We try something a little different." You could never get used to the roughness of his voice or the way he spoke with so much arrogance that it reminded just about everyone that he thought he was better than just about everyone.

Even now that you stepped towards the middle of the mat, standing rigidly just a few paces away from him, you could tell from that stupid, cocky expression as he stood looking down at you that there was no possible way that he would ever see you as a real threat. "I want you to try to hit me." 

Your brows creased together in confusion. 

"What?" was all you asked, which seemed to be the wrong question to ask as Miguel stretched out a sigh from his mouth, his hands coming close to his to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"I said hit me." He speaks more slowly, making sure to mockingly over pronounce every symbol in every word as if you were a child. "Preferably soon and as hard as you can." A grimace finds itself twisting on your lips before you can even process your bubbling annoyance. Your body moved on autopilot because of your keen senses, jumping over the swing of his left leg with ease.

You couldn't say that swift grace stuck with your attempt at a counterattack. Bending your knee just enough to reach out and kick, you were only met with the bottom of your foot stomping flat against the floor mat and Miguel dodging your kick, standing just a few paces away. "Too predictable," he scolded in that annoyingly deep voice you hated oh so much and totally did not turn on you at all. You sprung yourself up by the heels of your feet and charged at him with full determination to land at least one punch on his stupidly chiseled, handsome face.

It had been your second mistake, giving him too much time to brace himself. Already regretting your emotionally impulsive start, resulting in the punch you swung being easily deflected by Miguel.

His hand wrapped entirely around your wrist, bending your arm almost out of your socket and kicking the back of your knee to the mat with his heel. You feel down to a kneel with a hissing pain in your arm threatening to get worse at any wrong twist.

"Lose that fucking attitude, or you’ll get sloppy." As if your body could radiate any more anger, you knew he was just trying to push your buttons, trying to throw you off your game with smack talk that was not working on you or anything.

"Again," he prompted, letting your arm go and stepping back, egging on another attack from you.

"Give me a damn minute." No matter how much you wanted to snap back at him with something snarky, you knew it would only prove his point entirely—not only that but also the fact that he was mentally hitting you in all the places that he knew counted the most to throw you off your game. 

Biting back the insult you already had threatened to slip from your tongue instead of making a point by rolling your eyes as you stumbled back to your feet. Rolling your sore shoulder back as your eyes scan over his stance, trying to find the best opening for a better attack, you steady your breath and cloud your mind in thought. "You aren't going to get anywhere but dead standing around like that, you know."

So much for wanting to consider your options. Miguel took the first swing at you and was on the verge of kicking you on your ass if it weren't for your shoddy dodge.

"Didn't you just say I had to be less fucking predictable?" You snarled, lifting your foot with most of your weight pointed in the direction of his jaw. Surprisingly, the kick landed just not in the place you wanted it to; instead, Miguel’s arm blocked the blow, much to your annoyance.

"I also said—" All he was doing was using dodging moves on you, swiping your other foot from under you as he held the other one that you kicked up in his arm, resulting in you landing once again flat on your ass. "to lose that fucking attitude."

You had not gone down without a fight, twisting and kicking, trying to wrestle your limbs free by any means. Miguel had almost embarrassingly quickly ceased your squirming, his palm cuffing your arms and pressing hard against your chest as his other hand pressed tightly into your thighs, folding your legs in place under his hips.

The position was interesting, to say the least, but you still had some fight in you, wiggling against his grip with any strength you had left to break free. It was a useless battle, but the man had his grip around you tight as well as an overpowering size difference that blanketed your entire figure like one big rock.

And that's how you caught yourself in another web of misfortune. Your nerves are surging at the feeling of something—him brushing against your calf. Maybe it was all the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the fact that you were practically being manhandled so easily that did another thing to your body, or maybe it was just pure horny instability that your brain couldn't even process the lewd whine that tugged from your throat after the fact that it had happened.

Watching in pure horror as Miguel loomed on top of you, his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved and his brows pulled together, the embarrassment from his confused, almost offended looking expression hit you fast. Here your body was betraying you once more, this time going absolutely haywire and melting like a stupid pile of putty at the fact that you were being body pressed against some mat with some guy's hard junk pressed into your leg.

You couldn't bear to even look him in the eye anymore, your head tilting to the side, pressing your cheek into the mat, and squeezing your eyes closed, not suddenly envying the spidermen with teleportation powers. "Fucking Christ, can you get off now?"

A beat of silence hovered between the small distance between you two, neither moving nor talking. It was starting to become unbearable how tightly Miguel had folded your legs against him, in the sense that you could already feel his body heat radiating. The close proximity did not help with how unbearably your heart was beating against your chest. "How do you manage after all of that to still have that shameless fucking attitude?"

You stilled at how his voice had managed to cut through your own thick cloud of betraying thoughts as well as the ringing in your eardrums. "Shameless? As if you don't have your dick pressed against me right now."

"By the sounds of it, you don't seem that bothered at all." Miguel taunted, You thought you were bound to die of embarrassment.

Yeah, this is how you went out—by dying from the sheer effect of your own extremely horny though—not some overpowered supervillain with a vendetta against you but Miguel O'Hara and his dick print.

You could already hear the new taunts that he would use against you, "Not even in your fucking dreams." being the only comeback that you could muster, your limbs tingling with slight pins and needles, threatening to go stiff under his unbound grasp. 

"Oh, like you wouldn't love to," he sneered, shifting the weight from his hips flat against your thighs. "Probably thinking about me taking off these tight fucking shorts and having my way with you?" Your body reacted first to the accusation, cursing under your breath as you felt your second heartbeat flutter in between your legs.

His lingering stare hadn't helped one bit, and you watched from the sidelines as his eyes raked over your body with interest.

"I bet this was your plan the entire fucking time, huh?" He asked, leaning in as the distance dwindled until you could feel the brush of his breath against your face. "Put on some sweet naive act in front of everyone, knowing that you're getting yourself off on me throwing you around, touching yourself like some bitch in heat."

You hadn't bothered covering the whine that parted from your lips at the feeling of his erection slowly rutting against your thigh, the cocky smirk on his lips wanting you to melt away against the mat.

Miguel practically growled at the pathetic sounds that parted from your lips, tugging your legs apart to rut his hips down against your core. You shivered at the intrusion of his bulge pressed against your eagerness, the foreign feeling of him grinding against you left your thoughts in a dizzy fog.

"What? Can’t fucking speak now," he said as if he were dangling your most prized possession in front of your face, his fingers creeping into dangerous territory, making it a point for his fingertips to drag down your lower torso only to halt right above the elastic waistband of your shorts. "Go on, use your words."

"...fuck you."

The small amount of distance made the space between you two fall tensely thick, and the words spoken from your lips were different from the feelings that made your heart thud against your ribs. You weren't stupid, you knew Miguel could sense it, he could sense just about everything about your body from how close he kneeled on top of you.

Maybe that was why he had closed the distance so quickly after, letting the tight grip around your wrists give way to his hand finding a new objective, wrapping his fingers around your neck, not bothering to be gentle as he guided your lips towards his. The kiss was as rough as you had dreamed it to be. Eager for each other's kiss, you couldn't even process the noise that vibrated sharply from your throat before Miguel could pull away first, leaving you panting for more of his touch.

"First time I've ever seen you so quiet," his deep taunts were starting to grow unbearable, shifting your hips at the brush of his fangs against the jugular of your neck with every word, "who knew all you needed was some dick?" The harsh kisses he left trailing down to your collarbone made you feel like a hot, needy mess of putty. If it weren't for the tight grasp he had on your body, you were convinced that you would feel like you'd melt into some type of puddle. The growing frustration had only started to build up more as Miguel let go of your thighs, his hand trailing between your legs ruthlessly as the bud of his fingers rubbed against your clothed pussy. 

As for why you shifted your hips up and let him impatiently tug and yank at the bow knotted around the waist of your shorts, breaking away from the red splotching light bruises already forming against your brown skin and wiggling you out of your shorts, Miguel thought it was quite the image, his eyes were fixated on the drooling sight of you under him, so vulnerable with your thighs hugging to your chest, spread open, revealing yourself in your pants.

All sanity was thrown out the window the moment he tugged you closer by your knees, your lower half lifted in his arms just enough for him to sit face to face with your cunt. His eyes darkened, his pupils blown as his tongue lapped over his lips, leaving you feeling restless. It was a slow and almost painful battle of trying to reach down and shove his face closer or buck your hips as his fingers sheathed and explored themselves against the fabric of your underwear.

As if Miguel could read your mind, his fingers hooked the fabric under the bend of his finger, followed by a quick tearing sound. "I’ll get you new ones," the comfort emitting a whine from your throat as you couldn't even scowl at him for ruining your underwear because you were too busy admiring the work his fingers were doing. Without warning, Miguel leans in closer, the warmth of his mouth almost sending you into a frenzy as his fingers spread open your lips, his lips sucking at your clitoral area, prompting you to let out a very lewd moan.

"Too loud," Miguel mumbled against your pussy, too busy webbed up in your own pleasure to even notice how every embarrassedly sloppy wet noise had seemed to perfectly echo throughout the empty room. You couldn't even explain the number of emotions that were flowing through you, from shame from being tongue fucked and fingered against the floor about the one man you hated so much to bashfulness from holding eye contact with him as he lay between your legs and ate your pussy like he was starving for you.

"I can't help it," you whined, shivering at the string of spit that contacted Miguel as he lifted his head in an idea. It took a second to process Miguel picking you up and turning you on your stomach, his hands guiding your hips up and stripping your torn panties down your legs to stuff them in your mouth.

Without a word, Miguel grabbed your ass with another hand, guiding your lower back into an arch as the other made small indents from his nail bearing into your cheeks as he spread them apart.

Before you could even feel embarrassed at the new position, he shoved his face between them, your moan being muffled by your makeshift cloth gag that worked a bit too well in lowering your whines as Miguel’s mouth sought his tongue out for your pussy once more.

"You're close I can smell it," you almost missed Miguel's groan over your building ecstasy, "just let it go, baby, let me take care of you. That's what you want, right?" His voice is drastically different from his usual rough, rude tone, softened to something of a coo that has managed to unknot your pleasure with his tongue. Your body tensed against his mouth for a moment as he had the nerve to suck his fingers clean. No grace period was given before he could lift you once more with a grunt, laying you flat on your back.

Slotting himself back between his legs, Miguel chuckled at the dazed look on your face. "It's alright, baby, I can take it from here." taking the balled up drool covered panties from your mouth and instead replaced them with his lips. The sensual change of pace wasn't enough to stop the shiver that rid your nerves of the feeling of his bare cock rutting against your slit, using his thumb to spread your lips apart to sink his tip inside of you with a low hiss against your mouth.

A gasp left yours as his girthy length intruded deeper inside of you, the burying stretch of his dick having your nails roughly grasping at the nape neck of his hair tugging a handful as his pace hadn't bothered to even get familiar already. Miguel’s hips weren't letting out as he fucked you almost animalistic against the floor. You were convinced he was trying to fuck you into the mat, to be one with the floor, which would perfectly explain the rough pace that left you breathless with each piston of his hips. 

The graphically lewd sounds of your weak groans were nothing compared to the pornographic sound of your skin meeting his, your brain empty with nothing but greed, wanting to take everything and more of what Miguel was giving you. His fingers reach to unwrap your fingers tangled in his hair to intertwine them in his. "That's it, mama, that's it," he whispers against the shell of your ear, earning a whimpering reply from you, almost close to spilling the tears clouding your waterline.

Your mind couldn't process anything other than how good Miguel’s dick felt being shoved inside of you, his cock dragging against your tight, flustering walls with each shaky breath brushed against your ear. Your cunt seemed to react to Miguel’s lashes tickling against your neck as his eyes screwed tightly shut, muttering a string of compliments in his mother tongue.

You weren't lucky enough to be more stable, surprised that your throat hasn't gone horse with how ruined your vocal cords sounded in the pace of his pistoning hips. Only going up an octave higher as one of Miguel’s hands reaches down to pay attention to your clit, he doesn't stop even when your limbs start to tremble from your climax. 

With one last hard thrust, he finally stills, your name being the only thing you could make out through his mumbling as his unfamiliar warm sensation welcomed itself inside of you. 

Groaning right in your ear, he cums inside of you with his entire dead weight pressed against you, caging you against the floor. "Alright," Miguel sighs, settling on top of you once more with his arms holding himself just a few inches away from your face. "Again."

🔖 @adonis-is-dead-lmaoo @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @inumakiiz @iheartlinds @creamyarishi @marzipaanz

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ] #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman smut #marvel #into the spider verse

[verstappen-cult]

Charles likes to spoil you and give you everything you want, you just need to pout and look at him with your big puppy eyes and he’s gone.

Max, however, is a little more stern and doesn’t give in so easily.

And that’s the beauty of your relationship.

The perfect balance.

Like that one time where you had been going out to dinner three nights in a row. Max has been okay with it because he’d missed you since they weren’t home for three weeks. But the fourth day when you came into the living room and sat down on Charles’ lap, Max immediately knew what you wanted and he had made up his mind the day before. You didn’t know, of course, so he just let you try to get your way with Charles while he played some FIFA.

Max knew Charles was a goner the minute you sat on his lap and began to tell him about how much you had missed him. And then Max had you both looking at him and pleading to go out. Again.

“We’re gonna stay here tonight and we’ll cook dinner together.” Max said, too concentrated with the game to look at you.

“But I missed you!” You pouted, snuggling closer, if that’s even possible, to your Monégasque boyfriend. “And I’ve been waiting for you to be back, so we can go to all this new places.”

Charles gave you a kiss on the forehead, “Max, she is right. We can go out tonight, non?”

Finally, Max paused the game and turned his body to look at you both.

“We are not going out.” His voice was stern but his expression soft. “We missed you too and we want to go out and visit all those new places. But we are not gonna expose ourselves to fans and photographers tonight. You understand, right?”

“Alright, Maxie.” You said, standing up from Charles’ lap and walking to your Dutch boyfriend to sit on his lap, and kiss his cheek.

Charles groaned, a little amused too, because how was that even possible.

Or that one time when you came home after one of your Pilates classes while they were cuddling on the couch watching an action movie. They immediately knew that something was going on when you stood in front of them with your hands behind your back and a sheepish look on your face.

“What did you do?” Max asked, brows furrowed.

“Remember when I showed you that picture of the puppy that was up for adoption?”

Charles sat up in a second, eyes wide and a smile making its way to his face.

“You didn’t.”

Then, you showed them what you were hiding behind your back: a dachshund puppy.

Max couldn’t deny that the puppy was very cute.

“Oh my god,” Charles stood up and with all the care in the world took the animal in his arms.

You and Max watched him whisper sweet nothings as the puppy licked his face.

“Can we keep it?” You asked, looking directly at Max. You knew Charles was more than happy to keep the puppy, it was your other boyfriend who you were worried about.

“Have you thought about what it means to have a puppy?” He immediately asked.

And god you love how he’s always been the voice of the reason in your relationship. Always thinking with a clear mind about the pros and cons, because if it were for you and Charles, you wouldn’t survive a day.

“You know how difficult it is with Jimmy and Sassy when we have to travel.”

You pout and look back at Charles who is too busy playing with the puppy to pay attention to what is going on. “I take care of them when you travel.”

“I know,” Max patted his thigh and you went willingly to sit on his lap. “But cats are more independent than dogs.”

“But I feel so alone when you’re not around.” At that, Max heart broke a little. He knew how alone you felt because you’ve had that conversation in the past. “And if I have to travel with you or something I can bring him with me.”

Max looked at his boyfriend only to find him already looking at him.

There was a silent exchange of words between them before Charles nodded and spoke.

“Max,” He said softly, leaving the new puppy on the carpet to sit next to his boyfriend. “We can have a puppy. She will make sure he gets along with Jimmy and Sassy, right, love?”

“Yes, absolutely! I looked up information about that and I can even train him.” The way your eyes lighted up and Charles looked at you so happy was enough to break Max.

He gave in.

The perfect balance.

Because Max can be strict and the responsible adult of the three of you when it’s needed, while Charles is the one who makes him remember that he doesn’t need to be like that all of the time.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen fluff #f1 imagine

[ghostiiess]

“you’re my red string”

synopsis: because ni-ki called you ‘bro’, you decided to tease him back with a silent treatment.

warnings: petnames (babe and baby), mention of kisses on the cheek and on your hand, i think that's all? let me know if there's more!

type: fluff (ni-ki’s imagines will always be sfw!!)

wc: around 1k

member: ni-ki from enhypen x gender neutral reader (no pronouns used to describe y/n)

reblogs and likes are really appreciated! not too sure about the end, but lmk if you liked it :D

english's not my main tongue. sorry if i made any mistakes!

permanent taglist: @nsb-rkive @firebenderwolf @yawnzzznnn @ghostyycat7

It's been about three hours since your boyfriend jokingly called you “bro”. He knew you didn't really like the nickname, but he liked teasing you. For him, seeing your cute reaction and your smile was probably the highlights of his day. That's probably one of the many reasons why he deliberately teased you…

You weren't exactly the kind of person who would use the silent treatment to get what you wanted, but you were curious to see his reaction. After all, you also liked to see him smile.

- I'm home! he exclaimed.

You smiled a little, then waited. This was going to be fun.

Not hearing your voice, Ni-Ki repeated the sentence he had just spoken:

- Babe? Are you there?

Your boyfriend and you shared an apartment, and let's just say that the times he uttered the phrase "I'm home" were pretty rare... He always came home late because of his hard work, and he had a lot of practice. It wasn't part of your ritual not to greet him when you were both in the apartment. The rare moments you had together that weren't during the night when you were asleep, you usually played video games with him and listened to him talk about his upcoming concerts and projects with his music group.

Still not hearing you, you could hear a sigh from him. He knew you were there: your shoes were in the hall. You heard him walk from the front door to the living room, where he found you on your phone, no headphones, no videos playing in the background, your ears perfectly tuned to hear him greet you a few minutes earlier.

- Hi.

You didn't even look at him.

- Are you deaf? he laughed, running a hand through his dark hair. I was waiting for your hug...

Whenever he came home, you always put your arms around Ni-Ki's shoulders. You knew he didn't like that kind of attention from people he didn't know very well, but from you? He loved it. He loved the gentle attention you gave him, the loving names you called him, the cuddling time he spent with you... He loved it, but he would never dare to say it to your face.

- Are you okay? Do you sleep with your eyes open now?

You moved to let him know you weren't sleeping, to let him know what you were doing: a silent treatment.

- Oh, I see what you're doing, Y/N...

He gave you a faint smile.

- It's because I called you bro, isn't it?

You didn't answer, which confirmed that he was right.

- You know I said that just to tease you, right? I didn't mean it. And if it makes you feel any better, I'd say you're my best bro.

You obviously didn't answer.

- So you won't talk? All right, then I'll have to make you talk.

Without letting you react, Ni-Ki took your hand and gave it a simple kiss, hoping it would work.

- Do you want to talk now?

Seeing your resistance, your boyfriend approached you, then gave you a kiss on the cheek and a small smile:

- No reaction? That's strange, you always smile when I kiss your cheek...

Sighing, he rested on the back of the sofa.

- It's not easy to make you talk...

Then he had an idea.

- If I can't make you react physically, I'll make you react verbally.

You looked at him and immediately regretted it: he was way too cute.

- I'll tell you what I like about you, and I'll stop when you're tired of me.

He cleared his throat, then began:

- First of all, I love your eyes. I could get lost in them for years and never get tired of it.

Hoping you would answer, he sighed. He missed you, your words, your affection.

- Second, I love your hands. They're so soft…, he added, taking one of your hands and kissing the top of it.

He crossed his fingers with yours and gave you a small smile.

- I love your smile. You always light up the room with yours and every time you smile I think it couldn't be more beautiful, but I'm wrong every time.

You had to bite your lips to hide your smile. You knew you weren't subtle, but you couldn't control your desire to smile.

- Is that a smile I see? Does that mean I can live with a real person again and not a statue? he laughed.

Running a hand through his hair, he continued:

- Should I continue?

Still without an answer, Ni-Ki took the opportunity to continue.

- I like your personality. Actually, I don't think the word "like" is strong enough. I love your personality... You're probably one of the people who means the most to me. You always greet me with a smile on your face and you are always understanding about my schedule and my practices.

While playing with your fingers, he went on:

- You're always there for me, trying to make me smile and feel good, and I really appreciate that.

Your lips hurt. You couldn't stop smiling. You tried to hide it, but it was no use: Ni-Ki would always manage to make you smile.

He sighed:

- And I want you to know that even if you're giving me the silent treatment, I will always love you. Even if I don't show it sometimes, I appreciate you and you're one of the people I care about most.

Seeing your smile gradually spreading, he added:

- And if I may say so, I think you're my red string... I don't really believe in signs and myths or anything like that, but I think this is true. At least I think it is for us.

The Japanese myth of the red string: the one you were passionate about. Ni-Ki and you thought it was cute to know that everyone had a string around them that was attached to someone else.

You couldn't go on any longer. You smiled and put your hands in front of your face.

- I can't go on, you're too cute!

He chuckled slightly:

- You're just obsessed with me, admit it.

- Keep telling yourself that.

He smiled, then kissed you gently on the lip before letting you speak:

- Did you mean any of those things?

He rolled his eyes, then smiled.

- Of course, I did, you silly.

#ghostiiess #enhypen #enhypen imagine #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enha #enha x reader #enha x you #enha x yn #enha x female reader #enha x y/n #ni ki x reader #ni ki x female reader #ni ki enhypen #enhypen ni ki #ni ki enha #ni ki imagines #enhypen niki #enhypen imagines #enha imagines #enha imagine #ni ki fanfic #ni ki fluff #enhypen x yn #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enha fluff #enha fic #enha niki

[theemporium]

[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

series masterlist

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Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious. 

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days  after the party, with a message from you on his screen. 

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours? 

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality. 

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything 

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy 

hockey boy: and annoying 

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance). 

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.” 

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.” 

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?” 

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?” 

Jack snorted in response. 

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted. 

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves. 

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day. 

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it. 

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out. 

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” 

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?” 

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.” 

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.” 

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again. 

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice. 

“Not sure.” 

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?” 

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?” 

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him. 

“Do I need to give you a curfew?” 

“Fuck off!” 

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with. 

It was fine. 

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode. 

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted. 

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. 

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it. 

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?” 

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.” 

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you. 

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.” 

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated. 

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion. 

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.” 

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.” 

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze. 

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?” 

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.” 

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born. 

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.” 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.” 

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words. 

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?” 

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.” 

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused. 

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again. 

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?” 

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?” 

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.” 

“My training?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.” 

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blinked. “You’re asking me?” 

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.” 

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer. 

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you. 

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss. 

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow. 

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again. 

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?” 

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.” 

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.” 

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod. 

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.” 

You raised your brows. “This good?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?” 

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.” 

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. 

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you. 

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire. 

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.” 

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red. 

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much. 

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white. 

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it. 

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—” 

“For what?” 

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.” 

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?” 

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.” 

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…” 

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.” 

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.” 

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response. 

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food. 

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy. 

It made his head spin, in a good way. 

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you. 

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend. 

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised. 

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend. 

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

.

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

[darkbluekies]

Yandere Silas x male reader bodyguard. Relationship:romantic

You and him grew up together in the mafia, Silas fell in love with you but you only saw him as a friend and he ends up falling in love with a girl and this makes you leave the mafia to go abroad with her to live a normal life.

Silas has contacts all over the world and discovers that you are in a country abroad, he kills the girl and kidnaps you

Be mine (you have no fucking choice)

Yandere!mafia oc x male!bodyguard!reader

Summary: after being friends with Silas for years, you decide that it is time to pack it up and leave, much to Silas’s dismay.

Warnings: criminal stuff, throwing up, getting drunk by force, ropes, cage, mentions of sleeping around, violence, alcohol

Word count: 4.3k

You put your gun into your belt and get out of the warehouse. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Silas asks and grabs your arm. 

“I’m going home”, you say. “This mission doesn’t interest me.”

You try to walk, but Silas hurries in front of you, blocking your way. He almost reminds you of the little, stubborn boy he once was when he does that. 

“Wait”, he says. “You never drive well after a mission. You have too much adrenaline. You and I can leave together. I can drive you to my house.”

“No, Silas, I’m going home.”

Silas doesn’t react to you calling him by his first name. But he never has. You are special. Only one other person in his entire organization can call him by his first name without getting a bullet through their eyes — that person being his second in command. You and his second in command have known Silas longer than anyone else. You’d dare call his second in command your friend too, although on a more professional level. 

You’ve known Silas longer than his second in command has, and you’ve known his little brother, Ares … and you’ve known about his jealousy for a very long time. It started when you one day went home with his brother to play video games after shool. Next day when you entered school, his brother had a black eye and Silas had not left your side for the entire day. 

It only got worse from there, but you never did anything. You tried to talk to him, but it seemed like the years made him even more jealous. He dated girls time and time again, but created a big fuss when you showed the slightest interest in anyone — be that boy or girl. You became the third wheel in SIlas’ multiple relationships.

He did admit to his love for you, just a few years ago, but you couldn’t reciprocate his feelings. It would make everything harder. You were basically working for him as his bodyguard and didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him. Losing him as a friend could mean both mental distress … and physical harm. 

“Does this have anything to do with the girl I’m dating?” Silas asks. 

You look baffled. “No? Why would you think that?”

“Because she’s at the house?”

“No, I just want to go home”, you sigh heavily. “Why do I have to explain my every step to you? You’re not my father, come on.”

“Because I’m worried about you.”

“What a great look for you, mister mafia leader. Don't let anyone else see that.” You nod at him to move. “Move out of the way now, I’m tired and I’m hungry. I want to go home and order a fucking pizza.”

“So this has nothing to do with my girlfriend?”

“What's the matter with you? Are you trying to make me jealous or something? I'm not interested in you, you know that.”

You push past him.

A month passes. You have been seriously thinking about leaving the mafia for a long time now, but ever since Silas got himself yet another girlfriend it became clear that you have to leave, if you ever want to get yourself one of your own. As long as you stay with him, he will never let you date anyone — apart from him, of course. 

You’ve decided to move abroad. While packing your bags, you feel tears run down your cheeks. You have known Silas for as long as you can remember. You love to be with him, he is your best friend. Betraying him would mean betraying yourself, and his entire organization. People who betray him gets killed personally by Silas. Neither you or Silas would want that.

However, leaving without anyone noticing would be hard. Silas would know that something was wrong right away and he would use his contacts to find you again. You’d need help with creating false documents … and you knew just the man to help with that. 

You hold the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” a familiar voice asks. 

“Hi, Ares”, you say. 

“How the fuck did you get my number?”

“I did some digging.”

“Holy fuck, Y/N, you need help.”

You chuckle and hear how Ares chuckles in return. 

“What did you want?” he asks. 

“I need some help.” You look around, feeling like you’re being watched, which wouldn't be very far off. “Can we meet up?”

“Sure. Now?”

“If you can.”

“Yeah, I’m not busy.”

You decide to meet up at a café an hour away from your house, hoping that Silas’s associates wouldn’t recognize you here. You couldn’t believe that you would meet Ares again, you haven't seen him since you were teenagers. He looks the same, just a bit more grown up. 

“My brother finally removed the leash around your neck?” Ares chuckles and hugs you. 

“No, not really”, you sigh. “This is why I need your help. I know that you scam tight about everyone. And I need you to help me create false documents, passport … yeah, you name it.”

Ares smirks.

“Little Y/N is going on vacation, I see”, he says. “Where are you going?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you trying to get away from my brother?”

You nod. Ares seems to think for a moment. 

“Go to Spain”, he says. “Silas is banned from there, he won't be able to get you.”

“Ah, I feel so bad about it, though”, you sigh and run your hands through your hair. “He's my best friend. And boss, technically. If I leave, I betray both my best friend and his organization … and then he has the right to kill me.”

“Wait, you're planning to leave the mafia? For real?”

“I don't want to, but I can't live like this. I want to have my own life. I'm a grown man now, the window for opportunities is closing every year.”

“I'll go with you. I'll protect you.”

“You don't have to, Ares. Look at me, I'm capable of taking care of myself.”

You were Silas’s bodyguard, after all. No weak person gets that position. 

“Yes, I know”, Ares says. “But I can help. And you don't have to be lonely.”

“You are an ass too”, you remind him.

“Better than Silas, though.”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

Ares comes with you to Spain. He has given you false documents with new names and nationalities. You sit together at the airport with your phone in your hand. Your stomach is turning.

“I really should tell him”, you sigh nervously. “I don't want to just leave. I have known him for years. I might betray him work wise, but I can't betray him friend wise. I'm going to call him.”

“I don't think you should”, Ares says. “He has been awful to you, why does he deserve your goodbye?”

You groan and hide your head between your knees. Ares brushes his hand through your hair.

“Come on, sweetie, let it go”, Ares encourages you. “Your new life starts soon. Beach, sun and alcohol, all day long.”

You want to tell him that you don't drink, but decide to leave it be. 

“I have to go to the bathroom”, you excuse yourself and stand up to walk away.

But you don't go to the bathroom stalls. You stand by the large windows at the gate and call Silas.

“Hi, Y/N”, he says.”I haven't heard from you in a little while. I was about to go over to your house and drag you over to mine, because I miss you.”

“I have to talk to you about that”, you say,  hesitantly. “I am not at home, and I probably won't be back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm really sorry that I have gone behind your back, but I am actually leaving … going abroad. And it might be permanent.”

“Have you hit your head?”

“I'm really sorry for betraying you, Silas, you’re my best friend … but frankly, you're always stopping me from getting my own family, while you brag about the women you fuck. I need to get away, at least for a while and get to try to find love. It might not be permanent, but I don't know.”

“Where are you going? You know that you can't leave the country without me knowing. The second any of your credit cards, passport or anything along that way is being used, I'm notified.”

“Well I'm not fucking stupid. I have fixed that.”

Silas scoffs out a mocking laugh.“You don't know how to do that.”

“I had help.”

“From who?” He doesn't sound that cocky anymore.

“Ares.”

Silence. 

“Oh, you can't be fucking serious”, Silas says. 

You can't detect what emotion he's feeling. Perhaps everything all at the same time. Maybe it was a wrong decision to call him before your flight, but the guilt would have eaten you up the entire way there.

“I am”, you answer, trying your best not to let your voice shake. 

“You know what kind of asshole he is, Y/N”, Silas tells you. 

“I have done stuff too, I’m no angel either.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I just called to let you know that I am leaving. I didn’t want you to hear that from anyone else, I wanted you to hear it from me personally. This is a goodbye, Silas — at least for now. Thank you.”

“Y/N-”

You hang up and turn off your phone before returning to Ares who’s sipping on a beer by the gate, where you left him.

When you’re allowed to board the plane, you’re already nauseous. What if it wouldn’t work? What if you changed your mind? You already felt bad. Ares puts his hand on your shoulder while you walk through the middle of the plane, trying to find your seat. Ares takes the aisle seat. 

“Thank you for giving me the window seat”, you chuckle. “I feel like a kid all over again.”

“Well, I can’t let random folks touch you, can I?” Ares responds. “I’m a gentleman after all.”

Ares sits with his phone up the entire flight, working. You know all about his dirty business, how he scams people left to right with his false businesses. 

You fall asleep for a while. Your body has been in a tense position the entire day and finally, you were out of reach. He couldn’t create a storm or shoot down a passenger plane, he wasn’t a God or a military flighter. He is nothing more than a man with a bit too much power for his own liking. And hybris. A whole lot of hybris. Ares turns off his phone to look at you. He smiles slightly. For years, he has tried to take you from Silas. You didn’t want him, but Silas was too selfish to let you be put on the market. He wanted you available at all times, for when the timing was right. Ares stopped trying to reach out to you after a while, knowing that it was pointless, thought that if you wanted to get back in touch with him, you would reach out — and you did. Ares lets his eyes wander over you. He has tried to match your physique, but had no chance against the hours you’ve had to spend at the gym to be able to be Silas’s bodyguard. But under all those muscles, you are nothing but a softie, and that’s why Ares wants you … and Silas too, unfortunately. He always has to compete with his brother over toys they both want.

Silas scoffs angrily and runs his hand through his black hair, and yet he can’t stop himself from laughing. It’s absurd! All of it!

“Why are you laughing, boss?” his second in command asks shortly. “This is nothing to be happy about.”

“I fucking know that?” Silas snaps back. “Do you think I enjoy knowing that my Y/N is on a plane with my psycopathic brother going to fuck knows where?”

“There are not a lot of places he could go to, though. Think about it.”

“I can’t fucking think! Y/N is leaving me!”

“Silas, sit down before you faint, ‘kay?”

Silas, oddly enough, listens and sits down on the couch in his study with his hands gripping the fabric beside him. His second in command stands in front of him with his hands on his hips. 

“Listen”, he says. “Ares would fuck with you, right?”

“Right”, Silas responds. 

“Which countries are you banned from?”

“Spain, England, Germany, the Netherlands and Ireland.”

“So, one of those countries.”

“But which?!”

“His favorite. Which one is the warmest?”

“Spain?”

“Bingo.”

Silas’s eyes widens and he breaks out into a shocked smile. Why didn’t he think about this? Ares isn’t smart.

“...how the fuck do I do this?” he realizes. “I can’t just take a plane into Spain without being arrested the second I step off the plane. We will need another way. We could get a boat and sneak in.”

“I’ll see what I can do, boss.”

“Do it quickly, I know my brother and he will take what I want. If he does, I will never forgive myself.”

The reason why Silas has never let you date anyone is because he wants what can only be had one way, your innocence. 

He sighs and walks out of the room where he finds the woman he’s dating standing with her hands together, looking worried. A certain rage takes over him. The sight of her had made you want to leave. He knows very well that it isn’t her fault, but he can’t help but think that it is. Her existence has put you in a position of discomfort, and for that, she has to pay. Silas doesn’t want to look at her, it only makes him nauseous. 

He pulls up his gun from his belt, and without a second thought, he fires off and watches the innocent girl’s limp body hit the floor. But for now, he can’t bring himself to feel bad. 

He has to find you. Ares is only nice as long as you're on his side, if you want to disagree with him, he's going to strip you off everything. You just don't know how horrific Ares could be.

Your first few days in Spain couldn’t be more than idyllic — if it weren’t for the fact that you look over your shoulder wherever you go. You scan the areas for familiar faces of Silas’s gang. 

“Relax, will you?” Ares says and hooks his arm around your shoulders. “Just enjoy the scenery instead.”

“I think I’m going insane”, you mutter. 

“A shot will help with that.”

“I don’t drink, you know that.”

Ares just smiles. You’re on your way back to the house from a restaurant Ares had treated you to. It was obviously a date, but you didn’t know how to tell him that you wanted to take things slow. Ares has never been a patient man … and you aren’t even sure if Ares is the person you want to date currently. Frankly, thanks to Silas, you don’t know what you want to do yet. You’ve only gotten your freedom to do whatever you want a few days ago, and it’s more overwhelming than you expected. 

“Do you want to come to my room?” Ares asks when you get to the front door. “We don’t even have to do anything, we can just watch TV.”

“I start to believe that the only reason you wanted to come with me on this trip was to get me in bed”, you scoff and put the keys in the lock. 

“Not only-”

“Ares, go to the bar and pick up someone there instead.”

“I can’t leave you alone, I told you that I was going on the trip to protect you.”

“And i told you that I didn’t need protection. If you’re horny, go.”

Ares sighs and gives up. “Fine, call me if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m tired.”

Ares nods and gives your back a tap before walking back the way you came from. You unlock the door, going into the house. In the corner of your eye, you can tell that something is moving. Instantly, you go into attack mode, but freezing when you notice who it is that is standing up from the armchair.

“I feel like a dad catching their underage kid sneaking in after a night out”, the second in command says. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you question. 

The second in command jerks his head. “Fucking guess.”

“Did Silas really send you because he can’t enter the country?” you laugh. “That’s so tragic.”

“Laugh all you want, you’re not the one that have been on a small fucking fishing boat for twelve hours straight!” He collects himself and sighs. “I will give you one chance to come with me voluntarily before I beat your head in.”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest. “Try me.”

Silas must have equipped his second in command with things he knew that you wouldn’t be able to combat, because in one way or another, you lose consciousness. 

You wake up in a dark, cold room. At once, you try to move your hands to your eyes to rub them clean from drowsiness, but quickly notice how your hands are tied to something behind you. That’s when you realize that you’re stuck in a cage the size of a garden shed, in — what looks like — a cargo hold. Your hands are tied to one of the cage’s bars behind you. Your head is pounding from the hit his second in command had given you. 

“Look at that, he’s finally waking up”, a familiar voice says. 

“So we don’t need the water?” his second in command asks. 

“Let’s keep it.”

Silas walks into the cage, crouching down in front of you. He takes a hold of your chin, directing your head whichever way he wants. 

“You gave him a bump the size of mount everest”, Silas mutters over his shoulder. 

“He’s a trained fighter”, his second in command replies. “I had to do what I had to do, you know?”

“I guess.”

Silas lets go of your pounding head. You groan softly, feeling out of your own body, while still being trapped inside the cage. You start to cough and Silas grabs the bucket of icy water, holding it to your mouth. At first, you gulp it down … and then realize that it was sea water. You throw it up, right back into the bucket. Silas gives the bucket to his second in command, telling him to throw it out.

“That was fucking disgusting”, you grimace and gag. 

“You kind of deserve it.” He fixes your hair that has started to stick onto your forehead. “Why did you do that to me, Y/N?”

“You didn’t let me have my own life. I was living yours, as a side character.”

“You betrayed me.”

You meet his brown — almost black — eyes and feel your heart sink. You have never seen such sadness in his eyes before. 

“I know”, you say and turn down your gaze. “I felt really bad about it. I know the rules, and I won’t make a fuzz about it, but can I beg of you that it won’t be you who kills me? I don’t want that to be our last memory together.”

Silas seems to be taken aback. 

“I’m not going to kill you”, he says. “In fact, no one is.”

“But I betrayed you-”

“I know, but I can’t kill you.”

“You can’t bend the rules, or else you’ll get a mutiny.”

“Who said that I was letting you off the hook?”

You watch how Silas walks out of the cage, picks something up from the floor, and returns with a bottle in his hands. 

“I know that you are strong”, he says, popping the bottle open, “and violent. So, I’m going to keep you calm for the rest of the journey to Portugal. Open your mouth.”

“What is that?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing the bottle wearily. 

“Vodka.”

You shake your head quickly. “That’s so foul-”

“I did not ask for your opinion.”

He puts the opening of the bottle to your lips and you try to turn your head, but Silas forces you to drink. With one hand, he holds the bottle, and with the other he holds your chin to make sure that you can’t turn away. You have no other choice but to swallow the burning liquid. He doesn’t let you stop until half the bottle are gone. You cough and gag, but can’t throw up. 

“You absolute fu—fucking—”, you cough. 

“Calm down, baby boy, it’s just some vodka”, Silas says nonchalantly and takes a sip. “Good for your heart.”

He puts his hand on your heavily raising chest, trying to calm your breathing and feel your racing heart. The alcohol turns your body heat up and you want nothing more than for that bucket of water to come back. 

“My right hand man will be here to make sure that you’re not sober for a single second”, Silas says and stands up. 

“You can’t fucking leave me like this!” you burst out. 

“Then stop me.”

You fight against the ropes and Silas smirks triumphantly before leaving the cargo hold.

The second in command came in every half an hour to give you new sips. You tried to refuse, but with your hands locked behind your back and head spinning with alcohol, there wasn't much you could to to stop him.

You haven't drank anything since you were a young teenager and the rocking motions of the sea wasn't helping you. You refused to throw up again, refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing you in such a state next time they entered.

You hated alcohol even worse now. Fuck Silas. 

After what felt like hours — in your drunken state it could very well have been days, or minutes — you couldn't take it anymore.

“Silas!” you shout and your tone goes to a whining, slurred melody. “Silas!”

You've never felt so helpless.

Silas enters with his second in command tightly behind him. He enters the cage and crouches down in front of your pathetic form.

“What?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

“Please stop”, you beg and sob, but you're not sure if the tears come from the heart or the alcohol. “Please …I will do what you want …”

Silas grabs the back of your sweaty neck and directs your wet face into his shoulder, letting you cry. You can feel that your hands are freed from the ropes.

Silas picks you up, carrying you up to the decks above water. His second in command holds your head so that you won't smash it against one of the sharp corners. 

Silas tucks you into a bed and leaves you to rest. You can see the shining sun outside the round porthole window as you fall asleep. 

He walks out onto the deck of the fishing boat and smirks.

“What?” his second in command asks.

“I'm not single anymore”, Silas chuckles.

“You won again, congratulations. Will you put Y/N into the basement?”

“He can handle that. But most important thing is that he's coming home where he belongs, and there won't be any more childish outbursts.”

“What happened with your brother, by the way?”

“Who cares? I don't want to meet him anyway, so the less I need to deal with him, the better.”

When the fishing boat reaches Portugal, you are dragged to a car and to the airport. You don't say much. Silas disregard for your hate of alcohol and childish behavior has put you off. If it weren't for the fact that you are hus prisoner now, you wouldn't be his friend anymore.

Silas’s private jet stands ready on an empty field. He holds your arm as he pushes you up the stairs. You rip your arm from his hold.

“I can walk by myself, let me go”, you mutter.

Silas sighs. You sit down in a seat opposite Silas and cross your arms.

“You are glaring at me”, Silas says without glancing up from his phone.

“I'm just trying to determine if you have brain cells”, you spit.

“Aren't you a fun lad?”  

“Where is my phone, by the way?”

“Like sharp objects and weapons should be: far away from you.”

“Oh, I see. You're going to treat me like a child.”

“Y/N, I'm not an idiot. I trained you, I know how dangerous you are with weapons. You are even more violent than I am at times.”

“Obviously with good reasons.”

Silas glances up from his phone. You twitch your eyebrows testingly. You might not have your weapons, but your tongue is still sharp. 

Being in a relationship with Silas might be more interesting than you thought, and Silas sure as hell will realize that you're not going down without a fight.

“Your girlfriend, then?” you question. “What does she think?”

“Frankly, she can't think a lot at the moment”, Silas responds, turns off his phone and luts it on the table between you. 

You get the hint immediately. 

“Killing her was unnecessary”, you say.

“Running away from me was unnecessary too”, Silas adds.

“This is going to be a stable relationship.”

“It will be the second you stop with the childish attitude.”

While keeping eye contact, you push his phone off the table. Silas eye twitches as he bends down to get it.

“You're going into the basement when we get home”, he says.

“Can I hit back? Or are you going to have full control and tie me up again? Is that the only way you can win over me? With me being completely helpless?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up before I let you ride on the airplane wing.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You stare at each other, and you refuse to look away first. You're going to make him regret imprisoning you.

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