#look this was supposed to be an "oh hey what does this look like from and outside perspective' and WHOOPS.

[theminecraftbee]

The moon has fully set over the horizon. The howling over the server has stopped. Four Hermits sit in a circle, staring just slightly away from each other, as to not be caught staring. Joe is miserably trying to wring mud out of his puppet. Stress isn't bothering about the mud at all but is despairing at how shredded her jumper is. Somehow, Zedaph has only lost a shoe, which is more concerning than any of the prior people. Xisuma is deliberately not checking himself. The damning lack of helmet on his head, though, means he can't avoid feeling how he underwent the same terrible transformation as everyone else.

"So," he says, finally.

"I could use pants," Joe says, finally giving up on washing out his puppet, and, ah. Yes. Those are pretty well destroyed, aren't they? Xisuma looks away politely, feeling his face heat up. It heats up more when he realizes everyone can see it, gosh, he's–he's not so sure how he feels about that–

"I think we all need pants. Look at us," Stress says, and if Xisuma can be looking away any harder, he sure is now. Wait, she said 'all', does that include... Oh, oh dear.

"Well I don't know about you, but I still have perfectly serviceable pants," Zedaph says imperiously.

"You know, if anything, that's weirder, given the way we were all giant wolves traipsing around in the night just now. Which is strange itself! However, wolves don't normally wear pants, so really, the fact the only article of clothing you've lost is your shoes is less miraculous and more actively impossible!" Joe responds.

"Well you're actively impossible," mutters Zedaph.

"My god, it was real," Xisuma says.

"Well, I mean, I sort of figured it had to be, what with the four of us being all covered in mud and tired and your helmet being gone and all that," Stress says.

"It was real," Xisuma says.

The four of them sit in silence a little longer. The sun continues its steady march upwards into the sky. It's April; the day is longer than the night, by now, so they aren't wasting but so much time compared to the time the moon was up. The time the moon was up feels a bit more like a dream than anything else, too; distantly, Xisuma wonders if this is what spiders feel like when they become angry during the night, or what drives the undead from the ground. It's a disquieting thought, and he'd literally lived in a skeleton!

"So," Joe says. "So. Which one of us is going to yell at Zedaph for biting us?"

"Rude!" Zedaph says. "Very rude, I'm not the one that bit you! You bit me! Xisuma bit me, actually, you all saw him!"

"What? No, I didn't!" Xisuma says. "Gosh, if I were a werewolf, don't you think you'd know by now?"

"Hm. Suspicious," Zedaph says.

"No?" Xisuma says.

"I mean, I'd try to claim it was my fault, what with being a monster and all, but I'm actually a different sort of beastie normally," Stress says. "Being all doggy is new for me. I should show Iskall. Hey, do you think I should bite Iskall?"

"Yes," Zedaph says.

"No," Xisuma says.

"I'll split the difference and say maybe," Joe says. "Also, since we're arguing about it anyway, I'll say that I think I'd remember if I bit someone, although maybe I wouldn't. It's been a weird night. Maybe I should just go ahead and get everyone apology gifts instead?"

"Please don't," Zedaph says.

"Aww, but I like his gifts," Stress says.

"Honestly, yeah, I was–no, Zedaph is right, it'd be too distracting," Xisuma says, thinking of many of the, er, gifts he's gotten from Joe in the past. "Besides, it's not your fault. But if none of us bit anyone, then why on earth are we all werewolves no–oh no."

"That was ominous?" Joe says.

"Oh. Ohhhhhh," Zedaph says. "Whoops."

"It was supposed to be a joke about investment bankers," Xisuma says.

"Wait, what, do you really think the silly name turned us into werewolves?" Stress says.

"I had other season plans, Xisuma!" Joe says.

"Hey, does that make me a sheep in wolf's clothing that's also a wolf that turns into a sheep that turns into a wolf? If so, neat," Zedaph says.

"Do you know how annoying it will be to get a werewolf puppet?" Joe says.

"Gosh, I absolutely have to bite Iskall now," Stress says.

Xisuma, for a moment, considers putting a stop to it. If it really is the silly name, the collective, the hats and the howls–if it really is the collective weight of story bearing down on all of them–then really, it's still so early that it would be very easy to stop.

Xisuma considers the competition the rest of the shopping district poses, and how easy it will be to move as a collective when they're also a pack.

Also, he hasn't actually been a wolf before. That's one mob he hasn't done!

"You should bite Iskall. I want to know what it does," Xisuma says, deciding that he's quite bored with being responsible and that if someone wants to stop it, it will have to be not him. "But, er, first, in the meantime, do you think he or Doc is better to ask for a helmet that'll grow to fit my muzzle instead of nearly trapping my skull?"

"Hm," Stress says. "Well, Iskall is pretty good at head electronics."

"Yeah, but Doc is a better choice for abominations against nature!" Joe says.

"What about me? I like abominations," Zedaph says.

"It's okay, Zedaph, it's just you don't make many helmets, is all," Xisuma says. "We'll run around being abominations of nature, gosh, most full moons together. Is that good enough?"

"Fine," Zedaph says. "I'm bringing the snacks. I have sheep, and I've always wanted to try cannibalism."

"I guess werewolves wouldn't have to worry about prions," Joe says, nodding.

"Well, if you're going to get Doc, I'm going to go bite Iskall. I know I don't got fangs right now but it'll be very funny either way," Stress says.

"Have fun!" Xisuma says, and even though he's still red, and no one has pants but Zedaph, and he feels vaguely sick without his helmet, he also feels something close to pure delight. Gosh. Werewolves, huh? What a concept, having a little pack. He'll have to make the most of it; they've already seen his face anyway, and not one of them have commented or looked him in the eyes. Clearly, it won't matter so much if Doc takes a while with the helmet.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #xisuma #joe hills #zedaph #stressmonster101 #a bee fic #me vibrating at high speeds: WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES #the fact today is hermit-a-day-may xisuma day is coincidence i'm not doing it (although everyone should!) #but i figure it decent timing anyway

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene: "hey, sister"

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene: hey, sister

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 4.6k

Summary: you and joel try to patch things up with ellie before the baby comes. this takes place before the epilogue but I recommend reading the epilogue first!

Note: posting this now as part of Moth & Birdee's Mother's Day Fic Challenge! This is the final deleted scene for the series. (also if the first bit seems familiar, I posted a snippet during febuwhump).

Warnings: established relationship, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2 but no one goes golfing, terrible communication, makeup sex instead of communicating, p in v, two idiots at the end of the world, fluff, brief Tommy & Maria cameos, baby used as a plot device, vague descriptions of childbirth (nothing graphic in any way), vague depictions of breastfeeding, pregnancy, postpartum depression, family trouble, joel and ellie aren't speaking, estranged family dynamics

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel has the nerve to look sheepish when you storm into the house, door smacking against the drywall. You fumble when you try to grab for the edge of it, eventually grasping and slamming it closed.

“You lied to me,” you said, low and dangerous, heart thrumming with all you’ve been told. You clasp at your chest for a moment, sure that your hand will come back red. 

You let the accusation hang, daring him to grab it and throw it aside. 

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He knows he’s been flayed and left open to burn. 

“I lied to everybody,” he says after minutes have crept by. 

“You lied to me,” you snarl. The corner of your lip jerks, an involuntary sneer. You’d trained yourself to do it in the dingy mirror of your first Boston apartment, holding the other side down until you looked as nasty and tough as the rest of them. 

It worked. It was just a twitch now, unstoppable, popping up when you needed it, whether or not you wanted it. 

Oh, but you do right now. You want it. You want him to see the way you’re rethinking this whole fucking situation.

“I had to,” he says. 

“Oh, fuck off. I trusted you.” 

“I never asked ya to,” he snaps. There he goes. There’s the Joel you know and thought you loved. 

The fight slips from your fists, unfurling and folding over your chest instead. “You’re right. You didn’t.” 

He doesn’t stop you when you go upstairs, but oh, does he wish he had when you come back down a few minutes later. His brain almost doesn’t put it together; the sight of your backpack straps so incongruous with your life here in Jackson.

“What—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“Don’t. I’ll come back by in a few days. And you can think about if it was fuckin’ worth it, Joel.” 

“Worth it to save her life?”

“For fucks sake, Joel, I’m not mad you did it! Jesus, is that what you think of me?” 

You had been trying to keep quiet before, but that’s dead and buried. He raises his voice to match.

“How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re thinkin’?”

“You’re supposed to talk to me, Joel! You’re supposed to tell me shit. You tell me when there’s chili at the hall, you tell me when Tommy has a stomachache, but you can’t fuckin’ tell me how close it came? Can’t tell me what you had to do to save that girl? To bring her home?” 

It’s too late. He’s shut down; you can see it. “I ain’t sorry. About any of it,” he says, and it’s clear and crisp, but you feel like it filters in from across town, something too distant to be sure what you heard. 

But you know. 

“Figure out if it was worth it to lose both of us,” you snarl before you can stop. And it does exactly what you meant it to. It whips across his face like a snowball packed with ice. 

His own sneer twitches to meet yours. You think you might burst if you stay there too long, held perfectly still between him and the door. Might spill more words you don’t want to watch him hear, might throw and shatter the vase on the foyer table, might break down into tears. 

Part of you wants to break, to give in, to try to pull the confession from him and pray he didn’t mean it. That he wants you to trust him. That he is sorry.

But you leave, and when you hear the door slam after you’re down the road, you don’t turn back.

You don’t cry until he opens the door, brows knitted together in confusion.

“What’re you doin’ here this late?”

But your lip trembles. “Tommy—” you start, and it breaks into a crackling, shaky breath. “Did you know?”

Tommy pulls you in for a hug. “Shit,” he says quietly. “No. Just this morning, too. C’mon."

You’re reading in bed when you hear them. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She seemed awfully upset, and I think she’s already asleep.” Tommy’s voice carries easily up the stairs. He’s not a quiet kind of man. 

“Jus’ let me talk to her for a minute,” Joel says. 

You hold your place in the book with a finger shut between the pages, waiting to see who wins this round. It’s a toss-up, really, for who’ll crack. They’re both stubborn as all hell. 

“I mean it, Joel,” Tommy says firmly but kindly. “She was cryin’ all evening and she just finally fell asleep.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel says. “Fine.”

You hear the slow creak of the door and heave a shaky sigh, unable to tell the difference between the relief and disappointment. 

He had come looking for you. You hadn’t expected that, not really. 

But of course, you don’t get to go Miller-free for the night. Tommy knocks shortly after. 

“Hey,” he gives a weak half-smile. “So, how much of that did you hear?”

“All of it,” you admit. 

“He seemed pretty upset,” Tommy says. He sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Good,” you mutter, scowling. 

“I just—look, I don’t want you to think I’m pickin’ teams. But y’all worked hard for what you’ve got. It’d be a shame if ya walked away from it.”

You sigh and lean back against the headboard. “I know. But he really hurt me this time. I trusted him.”

Tommy sighs. “I hear ya. I didn’t know, either. He really didn’t tell anybody. I think he was plannin’ on takin’ it to the grave.”

You know, because you know Joel. You know he didn’t want to put you in a hard place between him and Ellie. Didn’t want to ask you to shoulder his decision. And you know you’re going to forgive him. Maybe not today. But it’s already settling in your bones.

Joel meets you in the foyer. He must have heard you coming up the porch. You slip in and shut the door before just… standing there.  Just as you had three days ago. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel starts, and with it, takes all your resolve. 

You sniffle. 

“Don’t cry,” he pleads, but it just tips the tears over the crest of your eyes anyway. 

You let him fold you into his arms, one hand cupping the back of your head to hold you against his chest. Your fingers twine into the soft green flannel, the lingering cinnamon and wood smoke as soothing as ever. 

But as soon as you’ve pulled it together, you extract yourself. “We’re going to have to talk about it,” you say to the button on his breast pocket. 

He tilts your chin up with two curled fingers. “I know. You gotta promise you’re gonna hear me out this time.”

You nod and before you can speak, he’s kissing you, one hand soft against your cheek.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, ya hear me?” he murmurs against your lips. “Don’t run away.”

“Don’t you do that to me again,” you retort, but there’s little fire behind it as you lean up to kiss him again.

He’s sweet from the honey he puts in your tea. He always tastes it before he gives it to you. 

“Hang on, how’d you know I was coming home?”

He grimaces. “Didn’t.”

“But—“

“Shut up.” It’s not sharp, but embarrassed. His cheeks are a little flushed.

You can’t help the fond smile. “What a sap you are, Miller.”

He kisses you again, unable to stay parted for long. “M’serious,” he murmurs. “Don’t run away. Y’can be mad at me all you want, but do it here.”

“I am mad,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says, pulling your head against his chest and holding it there under his wide palm. “I deserve it.”

“Yeah,” you nod, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re an ass.” 

“M’your ass.”

“No, this is my ass,” you wiggle a little. 

“Now see, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” he gives it a hard smack, squeezing with his wide palm. “This is all mine. Said so yourself.” 

It’s as if you blew out a candle, the way his eyes have gone dark and encompassing. You can’t help but moan a little, and his lips quirk up at the corner. 

“Right?” he prompts, backing you over to the couch. 

“Uh-huh,” you squeak as he lies you down, tugging your sweatpants down as he goes. 

His fingers slide down and cup over your cunt, pushing your body close between his legs. “And this greedy little pussy is mine.” He wastes no time in pressing inside you, giving you no room or breath to adjust to his cock.

His hand slides back up to brush along the side of your breast. “Pretty tits just for me,” he murmurs in your ear, tweaking a nipple to hear you whine. His voice has gone low and rich, his Texas twang a little thicker. 

His thumb rests on your lower lip. “Perfect, eager mouth.” He pulls his thumb away right as you try to suck on it and replaces it with his lips, tongue dipping in to taste you. 

“Hmm? Anyone home?” he taunts. 

The sound you make is more like a strangled balloon than an actual word, and he chuckles. 

“See? I know what you need, sweetheart. All of you is mine,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling out torturously slow and pressing back in until your hips are flush. 

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you whine. You want to be mad that he’s distracted you from being mad, but, well… it’s working. 

The thick emotions of it all don’t leave so easily. Your throat is clogged with it, his breath is heavy with it, and the way he works at your clit is an apology on repeat.

Until it isn’t anymore. Until it’s less “I’m sorry” and more desperation. You’re writhing a little beneath him, the ache at a breaking point, pleading for him to push you over the edge he’s brought you to again and again and again.

“No,” he pants. “Not until you promise. Promise you won’t leave.”

“I’m not,” you nearly sob. “Joel.”

It’s the way you cry his name. He can’t keep pushing you; he pulls all the way out and drops to his knees on the living room floor, burying his face in your cunt with all the fervor he’s been fucking into you.

He goes straight for your clit, three fingers in your cunt, and wrings you dry over and over before he relents and plunges his cock back in you to the hilt, setting a punishing pace, though you aren’t sure which one of you is being punished by it.

Maybe both, but in reality, neither, since he comes deep inside you moments later.

It’s not the first time, but it is rare for him to slip up that way. Still, you think nothing of it, given how low the chances are. 

Lulu is born in the peak of July. It’s hotter than hell and you’re glad that Ellie had gone with the other kids on the trip to the lake. It had been the reason you stayed behind, originally planning to go along with Maria and Alé. 

Joel hadn’t wanted you to go at all. It wasn’t far and even though you weren’t due for another month, he didn’t like it. 

The due date was kind of made up, though. It was really up to you and Joel counting on your fingers to see if you remembered the last time you had a period. 

Not that your period was very consistent to begin with.

His eyebrows had climbed higher and higher as you went back a week at a time to see if either of you could associate an event with it, like if he had fucked you in the ass for a few days or something. 

He had, but really, that wasn’t a great predictor, since he was still coming home from patrol riled up the way he used to in Boston. For the sake of your poor, well-loved cunt, you mixed it up a lot. 

You waited another four weeks before going to see Alice at the clinic. 

After she confirmed what you frankly already knew, you tried to talk to Ellie. 

The first time you visited the shed, you almost chickened out, rocking back and forth on your heels while you waited outside. She cracked the door open, mouth twisted until she saw you. 

“Hey!” She gave you a hug, and you held her as long as she allowed (which wasn’t long; she was a teenager, after all). “Wanna come in?”

“Sure, kiddo, I’d love to see what you’ve done with the place.”

She beams and lets you in, shutting the door behind her to keep out the late autumn breeze. 

You’re not sure what you were expecting. You had feared something bare and cold, where she’d be lonely all winter. But the space is all Ellie. You look over, and she’s clearly bracing herself for your judgment.

“This is so cool,” you tell her, and she lights up. You drink in her toothy, genuine grin, and decide this is not the time. 

“You think so?” she says.

“Kiddo, I would have killed to have a place like this when I was your age. I had a treehouse, but that was nothing compared to this. Where’d you get all this stuff?”

“I traded around town for it; you know I’ve been—” and she stops, smile gone. “Well. I guess you don’t know. I’ve been doing some jobs after school in exchange for cool stuff.”

She’s guarded again, maybe expecting you to tell her off or nag at her for not telling you.

“That’s great, kiddo. That was a clever idea. What kind of stuff have you been doing?” 

You end up on the couch while she sits on her bed across the room. You don’t think the space is intentional, but you don’t want to cross it in case it is. 

She tells you about babysitting and cleaning, helping other residents with their jobs in the gardens and the stables. She shows you some of her prizes as she goes, gushing over a thick astronomy textbook. It’s beyond your knowledge level, but she’s clearly been devouring every word. Its real value, she says, is that it was printed in 2003 for some college. But the textbooks they had in the QZ were from 2001. 

“Did you know that after we discovered all the moons the other planets have—like did you know Jupiter has fifty moons? They told us it was 38—and then people were getting confused about our moon being the moon, so they started calling it Luna in all these research papers. It's all so fucking cool.”

“That’s incredible, Ell. I’m so proud of you.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say. Sometimes, you forget she’s still a teenager. 

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “Did you need something?”

“No. Just wanted to see you,” you lie. 

It’s the wrong thing again. 

“Did Joel make you come here?”

“He doesn’t even know I’m here.” That, at least, is the truth. 

“Okay,” she says. 

“I—” you start, not knowing what you’re going to say, but hoping your runaway tongue will do patchwork here. But she doesn’t let you get that far.

“Hey, so, I was actually going out when you got here, so.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry to have kept you.” You believe her about as much as she believed you a minute ago, but you’re not going to push. You get up, and she lets you give her a hug, but it’s not returned very enthusiastically this time. “It was nice to see you, kiddo.”

“Yeah, um, see you later.” 

When she shuts the door behind you, it feels uncomfortably final.

You don’t try again for another month, when you have the excuse of Christmas to give you gumption. 

When you knock, she’s slow to open. Her face is unreadable, and she crosses her arms over her chest. 

“What?” she says. 

You nearly shove the bundle in your arms at her. “Merry Christmas. I know it’s early, but it’s supposed to be real cold this week, and—”

Anything else you were about to word vomit catches in your throat while she opens the gift. You’re terrified she’ll reject it, reject you. You’ve been working on it for a while. Since before the fight, even, worried about her in that damn shed all winter.

This quilt is patchwork blues, different shades and patterns. Over top you’ve cut out and stitched the galaxy together for her. It’s maybe childish, but you don’t think she ever had a chance for many childish things. And it’s not nice, not like the ones they used to sell at Pottery Barn when you were a kid that your parents could never afford. 

“You made this for me?” she says. 

“Yeah, kiddo, of course. Sorry it’s not quite accurate, I—”

Her hug knocks the breath from you for a moment, but you hold her to you and try not to cry. It doesn’t last long, and you can see the way her conflicting feelings are making her uncomfortable. But she surprises you.

“Wanna come in?” she says.

“Oh, um. Maybe later, I’m-um, I’m on my way to dinner at Tommy’s. Do you, um. Do you want to come with us?”

The scowl is back. “You mean with you and Joel.” His name was a dirty word spat from her mouth. 

“Well, yeah. We miss you, kiddo. I miss having everybody together.”

“He put you up to this.” It’s harsh and she knows it, sees the way you blink against the offense. 

“I’m capable of doing things of my own accord. Is it so hard to believe that I want to see you?” 

“Sorry,” she mumbles. 

“S’ok,” you say glumly. “I knew it was a long shot, I just—“ and you’re mortified to find tears burning at your waterlines, “just thought I’d ask anyway. M’sorry.” You had intended to ask, and Joel knew. You just wanted to tell her so badly. 

You hug again before you leave, but you have to hide in the half bath when you get to Tommy and Maria’s to weep. 

Joel slips in after a few minutes. He wraps you up in his arms while you try to smother the sounds of your broken heart. 

“I know, darlin’,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You tell Tommy and Maria after dinner. Tommy picks you up and swings you around in a hug, which makes Alé giggle. 

You go home first, exhausted. Joel tries to insist on going with you, but you know he needs some time with Tommy. As much as he’s trying to share Sarah with you, this is a whole different rodeo. 

The light is on in the shed when you get home. You hover on the porch, wobbling between your split instincts. In the end, you go to bed. 

Winter passes quietly. The layers help keep your secret, but you know it’ll be harder come spring. When Maria tells you that Ellie stopped by to wish Alé an early happy birthday because she wasn’t coming to the party, you cracked again. 

You pound on the door of the shed. She answers, guarded as always, and clearly surprised to find you there.

“Can I come in?” you blurt.

“Sure, yeah,” she says, and though she hesitates, she steps back to let you through. 

It’s not a frigid day, as you head into spring, but you stay layered up in your winter gear. Your bump isn’t big by any means, but it’s unmistakably there. It could be passed off as weight gain, but Ellie isn’t stupid, and you aren’t about to insult her by pretending. 

“Alé’s going to miss you at her party.” 

Ellie shuts the door of the shed, but hovers there, arms crossed. “She’s turning three. She won’t remember.”

“You’re her family; you should be there.”

“You want her to see us fighting?”

“Ellie, please. Just come over, come have dinner. We can talk. All three of us.”

“No,” she snaps. “If all you’re going to do when you come over is try to get me to talk to Joel, stop coming.”

“I just want our family together.”

“I’m not coming over there to get lectured and have you do nothing but side with him like always. You’re too damn scared of him leaving again that you never side with me. Guess what? I can leave, too. Get out.” 

“No, Ellie—”

“Just get out.”

“It’s not about him, just please give us a chance—”

She opens the door and stands there, not looking at you. 

You hesitate when you reach her, but she flinches back, so you just go home.

When Lulu is born, the sun rages at the apex of the horizon. Joel sends one of the neighbors for Alice, and busies himself getting everything ready while you pace the length of the upstairs hall and breathe through the pain. 

He’s filling the tub when he finds you with your elbows against the wall, head down, and teeth gritted. In an instant, he’s at your side, rubbing his hand over your lower back. 

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he says, as he always does. “What do you need?”

“Just you,” you whimper. “Need you with me.” 

“Okay, sweetheart, I got ya.”

It’s far too soon to push, but he helps you into the tub anyway, hoping the cool water will help since you’re flushed and sweaty. He climbs in behind you, perched on the edge with arms wrapping around the top of your chest above your breasts. His lips press up and down your neck, and he takes a rag to wipe the sweat from your face. 

That’s how Alice finds you, and she nods at Joel approvingly before telling you she’ll be in and out to check on you. 

Between contractions, you slump back against Joel. Alice dropped water bottles off and he coaxes you to sip while you can. 

When the time comes, you’re exhausted. You can tell Alice is worried that you won’t have the strength. 

Joel isn’t, though. “You’re tough,” he murmurs. “You just hold onto me and do what you need to do.” 

It hurts. There’s no way around that. You push back against his chest, arching and screaming while he holds you tight. When each break comes, it’s too short. Your head flops back onto his shoulder, and he wipes you down with the cold rag again.

“You’re doing great. Fuckin’ incredible. Just a little more, baby, I promise.”

After, Joel helps you stand on shaking legs just long enough to get dry. Once you’re safely seated on the bed, feeling absolutely ridiculous in what was more or less a heavily lined cloth diaper, he helped you into one of his flannels, leaving it unbuttoned so you could nurse the baby. 

The day is a blur. You’re not sure what time she was born and you’re not sure how long it is before Tommy shows up. You’ve been mostly asleep, rousing when Alice brings the baby in to eat. She’s an absolute miracle, watching over little Luna while you and Joel sleep. 

“Getting rest today is critical to your success in the coming weeks,” she had said. 

You sleep even better once Tommy’s there. Maria stayed back with Alé, just for today. They were coming over first thing in the morning at your insistence. But Tommy came to help with the baby and stay the night once Alice went home, as you had done for them. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Alice. But knowing Tommy had Luna made you feel safer than anyone, other than you and Joel. 

You might have slept better still if not for the specters haunting the room. 

The next time you wake, the sun has set. You can hear her cries from downstairs, and sure enough, Tommy brings her in moments later. 

“Look, Lulu, your mama is up and ready for you.”

You take her into your arms and get her latched before it registers. “What did you call her?”

“Lulu! Ain’t it sweet?”

No, you think, but he has his biggest, dopiest grin on. You settle on a noncommittal hum, which you would regret later when he takes it as enthusiasm. 

You go to say something, but it dies when it finally clicks that you’re alone in the bed. 

“Where’s Joel?” 

“He, uh—”

“Tommy.”

“He went to try to talk to Ellie. They all just got back.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I tried to stop him—”

“No, it’s okay,” you say, closing your eyes tight for a moment. When you gently cradle Luna against your shoulder to burp her, you take a deep breath against her tiny, downy head. “He should. It’s good.”

“He didn’t need to leave you alone. I told him to wait until she got back.”

“I’m glad he didn’t. She deserves to know right away. Hell, we both tried to tell her before, but…” 

The silence sits like the river in the winter—a thin, false calm on the surface. After you latch Luna on the other side and get settled, Tommy sits on the bed beside you and lets you rest your head on his shoulder. 

That’s how Joel finds you when he gets back. Luna’s gone back to sleep, cradled in your arms, and Tommy’s thrown his arm around your shoulder while you cry. 

“It’s normal,” he had said. “That’s what Alice told us after Alé was born. Baby blues, she called ‘em. And I think you got a real reason to be sad, anyway.” 

You look up, blinking away stray tears, when Joel comes in the room. The look on his face tells you everything you need to know. 

“She took one look at me and took off with Dina. I tried to call out and tell her it was real important, but she wasn’t hearin’ it,” he says once he’s crossed the room to you. He presses a kiss to you and Luna’s foreheads. 

“What about me?” Tommy grumbles playfully, and Joel gives him a little kiss, too.

They both laugh. You wish you could. You think you would have. It’s right there, sitting at the bottom of your diaphragm. But it doesn’t rise, doesn’t bubble up. Instead, it goes cold and sinks down where you can’t reach. 

Joel and Tommy exchange a look. 

“What?” you say.

Joel just shakes his head and lifts Luna from your arms to place her in the crib. “Let’s get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be just across the hall,” Tommy says, tipping his head and shutting the door quietly behind him. 

Joel slips under the covers and wraps you up in his arms. It eases a heavy sigh from your lungs, one that trembles on the air in its own wake. 

He kisses your head and tucks you in close, trailing off into soft snores. But you can’t follow. Your heavy eyes blink slow, that brief darkness the only barrier between your gaze and the crib.

Your chest is tight. It’s like icicles are forming inside your lungs. It’s a testament to how tired Joel is that he doesn’t wake when you slip out of his grasp. 

The soft knit socks from Mrs. Davies muffle your shuffle across the floor. You tug the throw pillow and crocheted blanket from the armchair. The crib sits low to the ground, so you lower yourself beside it, wrapped in the itchy pastel, and watch the rise and fall of her little chest. 

You don’t sleep.

*title from "Hey Brother" by Avicii

#mothandbirdmothersdaychallenge #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #tlou fanfic #fic: you know you never stood a chance #fic: never stood a chance

[level-up-12]

Gold Rush, Red Flush

720 word count Regulus tells James what he thought about him during their school years. [Post war AU/established relationship]

⋆｡°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩

“Do you think,” James busies himself, worrying the blue fabric of Regulus’ sweater. They’re sprawled out on the living room couch, it’s late afternoon. They had nowhere else to be. “Do you think in another universe, we could’ve realized this earlier?” “What, like when we were kids?” Regulus frowns. He’s looking down at James’ fingers, like they’re something worth staring at. “Well, yeah, I suppose.” “I-uhm, well.” Regulus turns his head away towards the window. The light catches the crown of his hair - unruly waves grown too long. “What, is it that difficult to imagine?” “No. Quite the opposite.”

That makes James pause. “Reg, did you- is this something you thought about before?” He stays silent. James is subsequently intrigued. He laughs. “You have! You have! Don’t tell me - on the quidditch pitch?” James is entertained by that little scenario for a little bit more than what is appropriate. Regulus glances back at him. The intensity of his stare. This wasn’t- it was real. “Oh.” James simply says. “Yeah.” Regulus replies, soft. He’s close. So close. Did James know how fragile this was? “What, since…the beginning?” “No, I’m not that pathetic.” Regulus almost smirks, but no, his expression was still twisted. “When, then?” James swallows. His heart in his throat. “Probably when I was fifteen.” His face is resting on his right hand. His eyes search James’ face - what was he looking for? “God, I despised you for the longest time. I thought you were the driving force behind everything wrong in my life.” “Strong start,” He laughs lightly. James is afraid of this conversation. This is - it’s heavy. He could feel it settling on his chest. Drowning him. “Yeah, well, you weren’t. I wish it was that simple.” Regulus whispered. He was floating again. “All that hate fizzled into something that pestered me every day till I got myself to look at it.” “So, what did you find?” he finds himself whispering too. “You.” They both pause, startled brown meeting grey. James thinks could live in this moment. Burrow himself deeper and deeper till the stale air of a lazy Saturday is what sustains him. Fragile. “I-it’s- I think I-um,“ “Oh god, I’ve broken you.” “No, no. It’s just. I never thought about you like th- I mean, you were my best friend’s-“ “James, it’s fine. I know I was being delusional,” “Hey, I didn’t say that.” He paused, he needed to get this right. “Did I notice you? Of course I did, you were gorgeous- are, I mean. I just, you always looked like you were two seconds away from killing me,” He groaned. This was a disaster. “I was, for the longest time,” Regulus’ voice has dropped down to a whisper again. His hands touch James’ hair. Barely there. “Then I realized I just wanted to touch you,” He does, lowering his hand and eyes to his lips. His fingers just grazing them. James’ breath hitches. This was impossible. “So, where do we meet?” “What?” “In that universe. I bet you’ve given this some thought,” he can’t help doing this, he slips into this role so easily- as easy as breathing. “I am not entertaining this, James.” He’s smiling, a small little thing. “Okay, then I will. I think, we meet every Sunday after Quidditch practice.” He looks into Regulus’ face. He really could see it, disheveled and sweaty and frustrated after practice. Crashing into James in ways neither of them understood. “The locker rooms are usually abandoned. Everyone would assume we were each doing individual drills, or something. Maybe fifth year - Merlin, I was so frustrated at you. For so many things, the least of which had to with Gryffindor lagging behind.” He’s saying too much, this was too much. “I- that year, I thought so many times about walking up to you. I always wondered.” Regulus says. It rests between them, uneasy. The what if-s. The space between love and hate. The emotion that spills out of him catches him off guard. Regulus is still close. His eyes look more alive than ever. Alight with all that could’ve been. “And then what?” James whispers. “And then we wreck it all to pieces.” Regulus whispers back. James almost gasps. “Is that what we’re always meant to do?” “Maybe.” “How about this universe?” “I’m still deciding.”

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originally published on Ao3. Part of a larger work but I thought it worked quite well on its own!

#james potter #regulus black #jegulus #sunseeker #starchaser #james x regulus #regulus x james #jegulus microfic #marauders microfic #jegulus fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards

[mykoreanlove]

Single

“Hyunjin, please. I beg you. I need you!“, you whined dramatically.

The object of your desire was standing in front of you, painting peacefully in his well lit atelier.

„Y/N, I told you already I’m not the right one for you.“

He muttered his rejection so easily, the words were rolling of his tongue without a single care. Watching him paint was one of your favourite pastimes: the concentrated look in his eyes paired with his vulnerable aura made him so attractive, so brilliantly talented. This is why you got down on your knees and begged for your life - if your exhibition had to be a success you couldn’t do it without him.

„Hwang Hyunjin, Artist of artists, please. Please, please, please.“, you begged shamelessly.

Finally, Hyunjin averted his gaze from the canvas on to you.

„Begging on your knees. Really, y/n?“

„You leave me no chance. What else am I supposed to do?“, you snapped.

He let out a deep sigh and mustered you intensely.

„Listen, your exhibition is all about love. Crazy, stupid, romantic, can’t live without you kind of love. I can’t draw that. That’s just not who I am.“, he explained flatly.

„You are the most romantic person I know, Hyunjin. You breathe love. How can you not be the right fit for me?“

He shrugged his shoulders. „I may be breathing love but love is suffocating me.“

„Aren’t you dating anyone?“

„Haven’t been for a very long time.“

„Why not?“

„Because love is not for me. I’ve seen this over and over again.“, he replied drily.

Confusion settled on your face - someone as attractive, as charming and as talented as Hyunjin was bad at love?

„Oh, I get it. You’re fucking with me, right?“, you snorted out laughing. „Good one but now is not the time for jokes, Hwang. Paint me a fucking masterpiece, please!“

Now he was the one looking at you puzzled.

„I wasn’t joking. Love is not for me, y/n.“, he said sternly.

„How can that be? You are drop dead gorgeous - how could someone possibly dump you?“, you asked in confusion.

„I’m sorry but I can’t date you anymore.“

„Why?“

„It’s just.. you’re just too pretty for me.“

„I, what?“

„I’m sorry but I can’t live like that. I’m constantly anxious because I’m afraid some girl will steal you from me. Next to you I look like a sack of potatoes and I just feel so bad. I don’t.. I don’t want to feel like that. Sorry, Hyunjin.“

„Shit, did that really happen? I had no idea people like you had it rough, as well.“, you blurted out.

„What? You think life gives you a free pass because of some pretty features?“

„I mean it normally does.“, you mumbled under your breath.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at you, annoyed by the false perception of others which he was used to.

„Okay, but surely not all girls were like that? What about your charisma? You’re so charming, girls love that!“

„This doesn’t work, Hyunjin.“

„Why not?“

„You treat me too well. What’s up with the date nights and flowers? You always listen and remember the smallest things about me. You encourage me and stand by my side and that’s not normal.

„You don’t consider that normal?“

„No! All my friends hate me because I’m living this fairytale romance and I can’t risk losing them because you’re not a dickhead like all the others.“

„Okay, now you’re just making shit up.“, you gazed astonished.

„Do I y/n? Do I?“

„Hold up - you’re telling me you got dumped multiple times because you were too handsome and too nice? Where do you even find those girls?“

Hyunjin shrugged his shoulders, he had often asked himself the same thing.

„Wow okay. I had no idea you were such a loser in the love department…“, you muttered under your breath.

Hyunjin grabbed the brush and continued painting.

„Hey wait, what about your talent? Are you telling me ladies don’t want that?“, you jumped excitedly.

„There was only one.“, he said sternly.

„One? Like the one? Like your first love or something?“

He nodded.

„So that’s it! Paint about your first love, then!“

Hyunjin stopped painting for a minute as he recalled his first love, the one he lost his innocence to.

You noticed the change in his demeanour, further pushing him to spill the tea.

„What was she like?“

He took another deep breath before he recalled those times.

„She was a visionary. Brilliant, smart, sexy. Someone who knew what she wanted. She saw the world as her canvas and herself as the brush, painting the wildest masterpieces with her whole being.“

„She sounds lovely.“, you replied.

„Yeah..“, the sadness in his voice was heavy.

„Until she wasn’t.“

„What does that mean?“

„She was in a rut when her and I got together. Not only stuck in her life but also her art. Although, those things might have merged into one. So, when she met me she kind of used me to fuel herself. To regain that spark for life, so to say. And when she had it back, she no longer needed me.“

„That sounds tough. Sorry, Hyunjin.“, you answered truthfully.

„It was tough. I had to keep seeing her every day at school.“

„Couldn’t you have switched classes?“

Hyunjin grabbed the brush again and continued painting, his gaze was set on the canvas.

„What good does switching do if she was the ambassador of art?“

Goosebumps formed on your skin as you realised what he was implying.

„Hyunjin… the one you are talking about… was that your art teacher?“

He halted for a second, not averting his gaze though.

„Oh Hyun, I am so sorry.“, you said with teary eyes. Hyunjin found himself in your strong embrace, as you slung your arms around his waist.

„You were a minor, a child…“, you cried out loud.

A sly grin formed on his lips. He was touched by your concern - concern from others was something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

„Y/N, I didn’t tell you all of this so you would feel sorry for me. I simply wanted you to understand why I’m not the right fit for your exhibition.“

„I’m sorry I ignored you, Hyunjin. Sorry.“, you cried into his back.

Inspired by your tears he suddenly had a different idea in mind.

„But what if…“, he turned around and faced you again. „What if I give it a different spin?“

„Different spin?“, you asked as you wiped away your tears.

„What if instead of painting a love that’s common and known I’ll paint a love that’s pure even though it’s shamed?“, he proposed excitedly.

„I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hyun…“

A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

„What if the purest and strongest love one can have is with oneself? Because ever since I swore off love I lived like that. I love me. Can’t that count as well?“

Being his friend was one of the greatest joys of your life because he always managed to evolve your way of thinking, of seeing things differently.

„I didn’t even think about that…“, you admitted ashamed.

„So? Is that a yes?“

You nodded your head cheerily.

„Yes. I‘d love to incorporate your spin. I’d be honored to, Hwang.“

A sad smile formed on his lips as he proceeded painting. Even if this kind of love wasn’t the one that was written in the books, it was the one kind of love that always kept him warm even in the coldest of nights.

#mykoreanlove #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz angst #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #skz soft thoughts #skz soft hours #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hyunjin romance #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin art #hyunjin drabbles #skz hyunjin #hyunjin soft thoughts #hyunjin soft hours #hyunjin hard thoughts #hyunjin hard hours #hwang hyunjin x you #hyunjin comfort #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids imagines #stray kids au

[cannedinternets]

IT IS 3AM AND I CANNOT SLEEP. TIME TO TALK ABOUT STAR TREK.

Wait okay so. Bonds. Vulcan bonds. Vulcan telepathic mating bonds.

At some point Spock’s going to go through Pon Farr again. And if he’s is in a relationship with Kirk and Bones, he’d probably bond with both of them? (Arguably he’s already bonded to  Kirk at the end of Amok Time. And Bones did carry SPOCK’S FUCKING SOUL KATRA in his head so that’s gotta count for something, right??)

Now, to my knowledge, we don’t really ever get a good look at what the bond DOES, canonically. But I’d imagine it’s like...a low-level awareness of the other person/people in the bond unless someone is focusing or very emotional. We DO know that all Vulcans share low-level telepathic bonds with those close to then, like friends and family (and apparently ALL VULCANS are part of a telepathic collective? Like they’re an almost-hivemind? WILD.)

So...what does this look like, from an outside perspective? I don’t imagine anyone ANNOUNCED this to the crew, both b/c it’s really not kosher for the three highest-ranking crew members to be in a relationship, and b/c you just. Don’t tell people “hey my boyfriend is going into heat so me and our OTHER boyfriend are going to let him fuck us into the ground” like???? Not to mention that NO ONE KNEW WHAT PON FARR WAS THE FIRST TIME?? Not only is Spock a closed-mouth dumbass, APPARENTLY the entire Vulcan race would rather let some people possibly die in space than let anyone know anything about their medical needs? Anyway.

Commander Spock is sick.

At first, you thought it was merely that he was fighting with the Captain or the Doctor (or both). He’s been slightly ...off for a while, not making as many comments as usual and not arguing with the Doctor and, in general, not looking in the Captain’s direction if he can help it. He seems much more tightly controlled than he has been for a long time, which is never a good sign. The bridge crew has definitely noticed, though no-one has called attention to it.

“It’s like Mom and Dad are fighting,” Chekov jokes uneasily in the breakroom one day. But, from the glances the others share, you can tell it’s not a joke. Not really.

And now Commander Spock is gone, and so is the Doctor. Worried glances are exchanged, but nothing is said. The Captain is looking increasingly frazzled, though he still jokes and talks to the bridge crew, doing his best to lighten the mood. Eventually, someone tentatively asks what’s wrong.

“I don’t know,” is the terrifying answer, “but Bones is with Spock, so he’ll be fine.“ That is more reassuring than it should be - the Captain’s faith in the Doctor is legendary, and documentedly well-deserved. If there’s something wrong with Commander Spock that Doctor McCoy can’t fix, likely no-one would be able to fix it.

But still. Commander Spock was sick, and now he’s gone, and he and the Captain and the Doctor were fighting and- a call comes in.

“Medical to Bridge.”

Yeoman Rand has stopped with a cup of coffee halfway to her mouth.

Lieutenant Uhura was gesticulating, and her arm drops.

The science officer manning Commander Spock’s console is white-knuckling the back of his chair.

The bridge is dead silent.

“Medical, this is Captain Kirk. What’s-”

“Jim, get your ass down here right now.“

The comm cuts out. The Captain looks surprised, then grim.

“Sulu, you have the conn.”

“Aye, sir.”

The Captain vaults over the console and sprints to the lift, and then he is gone.

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

The rest of your shift passes, mostly in tense silence. There is no further communication from Medical. Acting Captain Sulu glances at the comm occasionally, but otherwise doesn’t show any sign of worrying. Others are not so composed, but no-one breaks or makes a scene. That’s about as good as you can expect, considering.

Next Alpha shift, it’s Doctor M’Benga that gives an update, not Doctor McCoy. That alone would be anxiety-inducing, but the update itself is worse, as is the fact that M’Benga looks supremely uncomfortable. Is he lying? Is it worse than he says?

“Commander Spock’s suffering from an affliction that caused his mental shielding to fail. He’s been isolated in his quarters, with Doctor McCoy monitoring and Captain Kirk standing by to help. Please try to avoid going to Deck 6 if you can; it will be harder for him to rebuild his shielding if there are mental presences nearby.“

Later, you will think about how clever that sequence of not-lies was. In the moment, you are worried for the safety of  the three highest-ranking crew members of the Enterprise.

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

Every shift starts with a reassurance that everyone is still alive, but no real information is present. You do your best to not think about it. Helmsman Sulu and Lieutenant Uhura trade off the Acting Captain position. Chief Engineer Scotty comes up from Engineering one day to be Acting Captain - under other circumstances, that would have been a fun day. He jokes as much as the Captain does, but he has a different sense of humor. And he invites the crew to go out drinking after shift. (You all politely ignore the fact that there isn’t supposed to be any alcohol on board - the Engine Still is an open secret at this point.)

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

#star trek #the triumvirate #mcspirk #tos #telepathy shenanigans #fanfic #technically? #look this was supposed to be an "oh hey what does this look like from and outside perspective' and WHOOPS. #i mean it can be AOS if you want it to be of course but some of those things didn't happen in AOS? #WAS ANYONE GOING TO TELL ME YOU CAN DRAG TAGS TO RE-ORDER THEM OR WAS I SUPPOSED TO DISCOVER THAN BY ACCIDENT MYSELF? #oh hey i never queued this

[sysig]

Spin the wheel and get assigned a mood (Patreon)

#Doodles #Hey finally my haircut doodles lol #But a couple before that that's fine lol #I don't remember what I was sad about it was like a month and a half ago lol - probably just the usual comes-up-often kind of thing #I lost my knife again! Guess where it was? Right where I left it just under stuff lol #Well at least I actively know where it is now #Hair cut! I was unsatisfied but I already mentioned that lol #The barber did not follow my instruction :\ I explicitly was like ''I will be mad at you if you leave too much hair'' #''I would literally prefer to be bald and start over than leave it too long on the sides'' #:| Hm. Guess how that went #I swear everyone is a wimp when cutting my hair it's obnoxious |0 I really need to get more confident in doing it myself #Oh yeah and he kept nicking me and then had the Audacity to comment on my ''sensitive skin'' as if hfdlsafjdf I'm fine I'm just grumpy lol #Notifs ♪ Tho always on my days off! Monday is just a good event-start kind of day I suppose #Well it practices my patience and impulse control so it's fine lol #Not-grumpily grumpily enjoying some art lol ♪ Not of a character for a change! Just a nickname for a creator I like haha #They call themselves that I'm just enjoying it haha #Bleh dysphoria :/ It doesn't hit often but that just makes the days it does stick out #At least the rest if general pleased and happies haha ♪ Even if the last one doesn't look like it lol #I finished Animorphs 22 and ahhhhhhhhhhhh ;;;; It was really good but really sad #I knew about it from a series overview I watched before I started reading but it really did hit hard ah #Especially all of them sticking with each other and supporting each other </3 It's sad but lovely they all love each other they're good kids

[azzo0]

"Katsuki!" You called from the bedroom, lying on your stomach as you read a romance novel. You'd just seen a line you read a handful of times in other romance novels. It was a line that managed to make you smile like an idiot, with butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"What?" He yelled from the living room, where he repaired one of his gauntlets.

"C'mere for a sec," you got up with the book, and Katsuki walked into the room shirtless with a little grease on his chest and arms. Even better for your request. 

"What the fuck? You just called me in, and now yer pushin' me away?" He knitted his eyebrows when you pushed him out of the room.

"Katsuki, can you do this?" You handed him the book, and he took it, looking down at the page in confusion. 

"A lot is goin' on here, sweets. I'm a hero, not an actor." He said, cherry eyes scanning the page. 

"Oh, come on! I'm sure you can do this one." You pointed at the line, and he brought it closer to his face, reading it out loud, his eyebrows raising amusedly. 

"I looked up from my work when I heard the door open to see William. He stood in the doorway, one of his hands on the header above him. "Hey," he greeted-" Katsuki stopped to look at you, "I don't see what you want me to do? Stand in the door and say hi?"

"No, no. You're supposed to do what William did," you explained, demonstrating what you meant by showing him, even though your hand wouldn't reach for the header, "Get it?" 

"Hah? What's so special about it in the first place?" He asked, flipping the book shut and giving it back to you. 

"It's just sexy, okay?" You huffed, "I've read similar lines in many other books, and I just wanna know what it would be like when you do it."

"Fine," he grumbles, "Stand inside."

You happily skipped inside while he stood outside. He took a step closer and stood in the doorway. He brought his hand up and held the doorframe, thick bicep flexing in the process, revealing a few blond hair in his pit. He leaned closer to you, snaking a calloused hand to your back, roughly pulling you closer.

"This what ya wanted, hm?" He whispered into your ear, sending tingles down your spine. He smirked at your flustered state and snuck a peck to your lips. 

He chuckled at your stupor and turned around to leave. He glanced back, a triumphant smirk on his lips, "Let me know if there's somethin' else that William dude does. I can do it better than him anyway~"

#okay now i can sleep in peace #GOOD NIGHT #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for getting my best friend killed?

I swear to God, it was an accident.

My (27) BF (34) has a reputation for getting himself out of any jam you can imagine; and at first it was just a fun little thing the friend group noticed: there goes Oily J wiggling his way out of trouble again. but as the meme evolved in the group, it got to the point where we'd loykey started getting him into situations just to see how he'd get out of 'em, and he akept getting out of em. He was having fun with it too same as us. "Oh you guys," he'd say, "getting me into situations again," before laughing it off and getting out of it, so it was enrichment for our shared enclosures, and as time went on, the situations got more intense.

The trouble is, it turns out that putting a man in too many situations eventually gets the police interested. And not local hobsknockers cops either; they was like, proper three-letter FEDs. They put out a bounty on any information pertaining to his capture and everything. It was good money too so I thought, hey why don't I put J in another situation he can wiggle out of like always (and he'd wiggled outta worse before, so I thought this one'd be relatively mild), and at the next boardgame night (cause it was too late to do anything special for this one) we can buy some extra strong booze and get absolutely blitzed while having a giggle about the situation.

Boardgame night, and we were playing some social deduction nonsense or another and he says: "One of you is gonna betray me tonight." and I can't help but think, looking back on it, that he knew. It's stupid, I know he was talking about the game, but the way he said it, it was like he knew. We all felt it, and we had a big round robin round the table taking turns promising that we'd never betray him. And I said it so easily cause I thought it was true. Sure, I was gonna talk to the feds about a bounty; but, I fully expected my big beautiful oily boy to wiggle his way out of the trouble I was 'bout to cause, and that's not a betrayal. I wasn't lying. I didn't think I was lying.

My big beautiful oily boy didn't manage to wiggle his way out of it. They killed him and I got my blood money. He's gone.

He's gone and I'm devastated, crying, mourning. I loved him so much. We all did. And I can't stop thinking that it's my fault: that I'm the reason he's gone. and it is. and the guilt is eating me up inside. and I just need to talk to someone about it. So, I tell the rest of the group what happened in the group chat, hoping they'd understand that I didn't want this. I didn't want the government's blood money. It was supposed the be a prank. some joint enclosure enrichment. He was supposed to wiggle out of it like he always does... did, i mean.

They call me, among worse things, the asshole and kick me from the group chat. And, I know it's my fault he's dead: I know that. If I didn't do what I did, he wouldn't be dead right now. But, I didn't mean it for it to end up this way. He was supposed to be okay, damn it. I loved him. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #fandom aita #unreality #i never know how to tag the bible ones #also i don't think this is explicitly jesus christ superstar but for some reason it put me in mind of it #so that's where the extra option is from idk #specifically in my head is one particular production of it that a friend showed me when we were like. 17 #anyway i'm in love with how this one plays with modern language #good enough to post on purpose

[wolfiesmoon]

When you wear their clothes

genshin men x gn!reader

characters featured: xiao, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli and itto

i've been dreaming about genshin a lot lately idk this game has possesed me or smth so i feel like i'm required to write this? Also DAMN im rusty with genshin characters so i apologise profusely for any ooc-ness

(also wrio's is kinda suggestive!!)

XIAO is confused. Why on earth are you wearing his clothes? He isn't opposed to it specifically, but doesn't understand the appeal or the reason why you do it. "My clothes don't fit you properly. What's the point?" he asks, completely straight faced. You smile. "It reminds me of you when you're not with me!" He just scoffs and says he doesn't get your strange habits before moving on with his day. Somehow though, the image of you in his clothes won't leave his mind for the rest of the day. "Dammit..." he mumbles under his breath, barely audible when nobody's around. Don't bring up his pink cheeks in the evening when he comes back to see you, he will not elaborate.

Similarly, NEUVILLETTE is also confused. This must be another human thing that he isn't familiar with. What does wearing their lover's clothes mean to humans? "Oh, I just missed you... your clothes remind me of you, you know?" You explained when he questioned you on the matter. "Oh, I suppose that makes sense. Do you want more items related to myself for when I am absent?" He asks. While you do want to know what items he would bring you, you turn him down. "I like your shirts the most, because they smell like you and feel like your hugs." He doesn't know why exactly, but he has the urge to kiss you all of a sudden.

WRIOTHESLEY feels distracted when he sees you in his clothes from time to time. He gets busy a lot, so the moments he gets to spend with you feel extra special. But, what is he to do when you look so positively yummy in his shirt? "Hey, mind taking my shirt off? It's... sort of distracting." he admits, taking a sip of his tea. "But, wouldn't it be even more distracting if I took it off now?" you asked, feigning an innocent look. He almost spit out his tea. "I did not mean it like that...! Surely you're just teasing me." You just smiled mischeviously in response, taking a sip out of your own cup. "That's what I thought. I know that look."

ZHONGLI thinks you look odd in his clothes. Odd, but not bad by any means. You actually look quite endearing. "I'll make sure to commit this to memory." he says calmly, sitting down next to you on the bed. "You say that every time you're with me." you poke his shoulder gently, smiling up at him. "That's because everything about you is worth remembering, I suppose." Still, he thinks this specific memory is one he will treasure for a long, long time. "Oh my..." you felt heat rushing to your cheeks at his words, hugging his arm. Actually, he changed his mind, you're positively adorable in his clothes.

You're basically asking to get attacked with a flurry of kisses if you wear ITTO'S clothes in front of him. That's like, a show of affection! That you're totally his and no one else's! And that also means it's a cause for celebration! "Agh, Itto- Stop!" you try and fail to push his face away. "Hehehe..." he gives you a bright smile and places a big ol' kiss on your lips. "You should wear my clothes more often!!!" he felt proud of himself, puffing out his chest. "Ummm, whatever you say..." you're kind of worried that if you do that, your face will never escape his lips.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗ #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvillete x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #arataki itto x reader #arataki itto x you #arataki itto x y/n #holy shit i should be asleep #i was resisting the urge to mention osmanthus wine on zhonglis part sorry im still not over dead memes

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel au #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x you #mafia au #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes hurt/comfort

[unknownmads]

PRISON TOJII (he’s so addictive🤭) if he’s so bad then why does he look so good? like that’s literally my baby daddy y’all✊🏼😍 i wrote this kinda quick sorry i’ve been so busy y’all

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

the words rang through your eyes having this be the first time you heard his voice, it was deep and rough his ton was teasing you quietly.

Prison Toji who’s eyes track as you reach into your bag grabbing a small notebook and pen. Opening the notebook revealed a page already full of questions you were waiting to ask him. oh how cute you are thinking about him so much just so excited. he’s pulled out of his trance when you finally speak.

“hi toji, i great to finally meet you too” your voice soft at first from your original anxiety about the situation. i mean your just here to meet him for your class nothing more. right? i mean you wouldn’t be here because you love reading his letters telling you how pretty you are. how he wished he could take you out properly. Shamelessly telling you how hard he got to your pictures. but he was just flirting he’s a man in a prison it’s what happens.

Prison toji who finally speaks next the seconds feeling like eternity for him. He doesn’t want to have to sit across a table from you he want you in his lap sitting pretty just how you are now.

“That’s a lot of writing in your lil notebook doll, you been thinkin of me?” this time his tone laced with teasing and smirk displayed on his lips. it draws attention to his scar, you had never asked about it not wanting to push things you shouldn’t.

“where’d you get that scar?” pointing to your own lip as you looked up at him. a small chuckle escapes him surprised at your bluntness.

“well you’re quick to the questions today. you wanna get a closer look at it?” the gawking look one your face giving you away. and with a quick nod you were leaning across the table to get a closer look as he did the same to help you.

Prison Toji who stops you with a noise when your hand reaches up to touch his lip where the scar is

“shit sorry” quietly escapes you as you looked away for a second toji takes this as an opportunity

“you’re okay sweetheart just gonna get us in some trouble if you do that.” his lips next to your ear as his breath brushing against your ear “can’t control myself with a pretty thing like you.”

Prison Toji whose pants grow so much tighter when he sees how flustered you get from such a simple comment. You turn back to face him, his eyes instantly meeting yours challenging you telling you to do it, see how far it goes, see how bad he possibly he, and just like a moth to a flame you do just that. your hand grazing where his scar is going to cup his face, it was all so fast you could barely process it. he forced himself forward slamming his lips to yours. shock took you first then you eased into the kiss and began kissing back. and then you remembered HES A PRISONER AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR SCHOOL.

Prison toji whose ready to snap his cuffs when you pull away. leaning into you as much as he could almost whining when your gone. he sees you shocked and guilt ridden with your finger touching your lips

“whats wrong doll didn’t like it? give me another chance to try again” his body fully leaning to you practically half way over the table.

“im sorry we shouldn’t hav- it wasn’t bad- just we can’t Toji.” your thoughts swirling the world is spinning. Could you get kick out of school? what if someone saw? are there cameras in here? why do i still want to? it’s wrong.

“It’s fine sweetheart no one will know, just you and me i know you want more from the look on your face and the way your sqeezin your thighs. don’t even try to deny it.”

Caught. like the moth to a flame, fly in a trap, he’s got you.

Prison toji whose cock jumps when you slide out of your seat and approach him looking to make sure the guards weren’t watching. unknowing to the fact that tojo already blackmailed both of them to let him have all the privacy he needed with you. the look in your eyes as you approached was pure lust and need for him.

“your sure we’ll be fine right?” you say as you lean down towards him

“im positive doll i made sure of it.”

Prison Toji who finally snaps his cuffs unable to take anymore. grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap his face clashing with your the kiss is sloppy and full of need. a small sound escaping as he deepens the kiss.

“i’ve been dreaming of this.”

TAGS: @altgojo @nanmiik @kouyoumarryme @imaslothandsowhat @dragonmaiden79 @sircatchungus

SOME OF YALL DIDNT SHOW UP WHEN I SEARCHED IM SO SORRY😭

#feral #jjk toji #i love terrible men #i need him #inmate toji #jjk #jujutsu toji #prison toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x y/n #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #dilf toji #oldermen #older toji

[saetoru]

Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹

part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed

imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).

“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.

“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”

you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.

it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.

but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.

you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.

you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.

“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)

“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)

“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”

almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”

“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?

“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.

this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.

“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”

“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”

and then you really do see him around.

sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.

and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.

today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.

i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.

today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.

and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.

and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.

except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.

“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”

“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”

he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.

“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.

“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”

“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”

“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”

you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.

“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.

“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.

“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.

“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”

somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.

i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.

you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.

you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.

it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.

does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?

and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.

but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.

evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.

but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.

yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.

they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.

and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.

it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.

sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.

you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.

or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.

that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.

that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.

like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.

and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.

it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.

and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.

you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.

it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.

he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.

you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.

when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.

“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.

satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.

“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”

“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.

you can’t have that.

“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.

“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”

his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.

“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”

for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.

it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.

“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”

“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”

there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.

you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.

you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.

“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”

“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”

you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.

“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”

“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”

“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”

“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.

something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.

“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.

maybe he does.

“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”

“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.

well….maybe he’s already succeeded.

#i wasn’t gonna tag this buuuuuuuut….its kinda long so #i was like eh why not #but i’m not like tagging every tag just the main few #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #bully! gojo tag

[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

Tags: @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp@localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk comfort #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jujustu kaisen #jjk satoru #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satorou #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojou x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu sorcerer #gojo's wife

[gyusrose]

➵ you’re so vain -> l.hs

⚠︎ smut (mdni)

✎ jock!heeseung x reader, enemies to ?????, heeseung is rlly annoying, hate sex ;), hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, degradation, backshots lmao. i think that’s it?

summary: attending a new school was supposed to be a fresh start for you, trying to be nice to everyone and have new friends, yet coming across lee heeseung threw all of that out the window.

(heeseung x fem.reader)

wc: 3.2k

——————————————————————————

your sweaty hands could not be gripping the steering wheel any harder. you wouldn’t call yourself “super shy” but when it comes to a whole new community of people, teenagers, hell yeah you are.

you had to move exactly at the middle of the year due to your mom’s work. they offered her double the salary at the other side of the city, who was she to say no to that? although you were going to miss your friends and the overall environment of your old home, you couldn’t just tell your mom ‘no’, either way her decisions are final.

you just got here two days ago, and to be honest, it wasn’t that bad. the worst thing so far is the fact that the nearest shopping center was 30 minutes away but you’ll live.

you didn’t except your first day of school to be so nerve-wracking. surely you’ll make some friends but who knows what people are like here. eventually, you saw the big navy blue sign with your school’s name on it. it was an averagely big school, bigger than your old one, which also meant more people.

the parking space alone was scary. it was huge yet already full even though it was still fairly early. you went around in circles around the parking lot, trying to find a vacant spot. fortunately you did at the second-to-last line.

as you tried to park, the limited space you had made it difficult to, having to back up and drive in constantly. as you reversed your car, you must have completely forgotten that you aren’t the only one there, feeling a small crash at the bumper of your car.

your eyes widened in panic. you looked back to see what you hit, and with your luck, it revealed at very nice black car, to which you’ve just hit. you tried to quickly get into your parking spot, hoping it was nothing serious, but then someone came walking up to you.

‘shit, that must be the owner’ you saw his red, rather handsome, fuming face.

you got out of your car to confront the first person interaction.

“hey look im so-“

“CANT YOU FUCKING DRIVE RIGHT? YOU HIT MY VERY EXPENSIVE CAR WITH YOUR THING, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

oh he was an asshole. you almost scoffed in his face. who does he think he is.

“it was accident that’s all, it was barely a scratch calm down man.”

“IT WAS DEFINITELY A SCRATCH LOOK AT IT! JUST BECAUSE YOU KEEP YOUR CAR LOOKING ALL MISERABLE DOESNT MEAN I WILL, DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?”

lord take me back. you were so close to just leaving him there arguing with himself. but you didn’t want to make him even angrier.

“look im sorry! i can pay for the fix up if that’s what you want, i dont know what else to do?”

the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes at your statement.

“you think i don’t have the money for it? please, it shows you’re a newbie around here.”

“i didn’t mean it like that-“

“yo heeseung!! come on bro!” another blonde boy called from afar, hopefully ending the argument y’all were having.

“ watch your back new girl.” with one last glare, he left to join his group of friends.

you rolled your eyes. shiver my fucking timbers, you thought.

you took a deep breath before grabbing your backpack and making your way into school , hoping to never see his face ever again.

>>

you thought that was going to be the end of it all. but oh boy were you wrong. soon you found out that heeseung is the captain of the football team, and pretty much the most popular boy in school. as cliche as it sounds, every girl would drop their panties if he asked them to.

people know he’s not the nicest person ( an asshole) yet they still look up to him. that’s angered you. how are all these people so dumb? just because he’s kinda good-looking? seriously?

over the course of a few weeks, you’ve managed to make some friends, your closest taehyun and Isa. although you tried to block the negativity, heeseung made it really hard. always giving you snarky comments when he saw you around, ridiculing you in front of other people. somehow always finding a way to run into you despite not having any classes together. except gym.

“ bro open your eyes, catch the damn ball!” he yelled from across from you.

you hated sports. even less could you play one, but you gotta do it for the grade.

“the ball was too high up dummy!” you retorted, rolling your eyes for maybe the 100th time in the class period.

if you hated gym before, you definitely hated it more now.

as the period ended, you decided to take a quick shower in the locker rooms since you couldn’t handle being all sweaty and gross throughout the day.

heeseung finished changing and was outside the locker room with his friends, chatting, waiting for the bell to ring. that’s when he may have accidentally eavesdropped the conversation between your two friends, he could barely the names of.

“where’s _____?” taehyun asked isa, noticing how you weren’t with her.

“she’s taking a shower right now, she told us to not wait for her.” Isa shrugged before taehyun nodded.

a beautiful idea popped in heeseung’s brain. it was too good.

he excused himself and sneakily waited by the girl’s locker room, waiting for everyone to come out. once he only heard the shower you were using running, he quietly entered the room. the bell had rang about a minute ago, so the gym was empty, only you and him. the gym teacher god knows where.

he saw his target and rapidly grabbed the pile of clothes sitting on the bench, a smirk evident in his face.

suddenly the shower stopped running, making heeseung hurry and exit the locker room.

the shower felt too good, you think you spent more time that you anticipated to. as you exited the shower tiles, you looked around for your clothes, which you remember clearly leaving them in the bench closest to the shower. you looked around the whole locker room, hoping you were wrong and placed them elsewhere. unfortunately, you couldn’t even find your damn socks.

your biggest fear has come true. you’re now naked, nothing but a towel covering you, this was more than just humiliating. you felt sad, mad, angry, embarrassed all at once. they’ve been stolen for sure, and you were more than sure on who did it.

grabbing your phone you called Isa, to see if she could help you somehow. and she indeed did. bringing you some spare clothes she had. thankfully, you always bring extra underwear since situations like these could happen. you just had to wait for isa for the clothes, yet the five minutes she took felt like five hours. unfortunately, passing period is over, meaning some students are coming in the locker room to change.

many of them just straight up stared at you. giving you weird looks as to why you were pretty much naked in the middle of the locker room, but none had the guts to ask you.

you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. lee heeseung won’t hear the end of it.

“LEE HEESEUNG!” you yelled across the field. he and his friends were siting down eating lunch outside when you spotted him after trying to find him after the stunt he just pulled.

heeseung knew it was coming, giggling with his friends as they heard you yell his name once again. “ oh she’s about to scold me now .” heeseung scoffed but still got up and went over to you.

“yes ma’am?” he said with a smile, you wish you could slap off but you’re better than that.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING THAT WAS?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about..” heeseung tried acting innocent but failed as he just burst out laughing. you groaned, how on earth is that funny?

“cute panties by the way” he continued to laugh, not sparing a glance at your mad expression on your face.

“you’re such an ass, i hate your guts.” you said leaving him alone, laughing to himself.

“yo bro i think she actually got mad this time.” his friend, jake came over.

heeseung shrugged. “she’s so sensitive, it wasn’t even that bad.”

“i can’t believe he did that…” taehyun said as you told them both what had happened. Isa knew a little bit but not who did it.

“that’s fucked up, what’s he got against you so much?”

you shrugged. “i guess because i gave his car a little scratch, but i guess he took it to heart since he hasn’t stopped bothering me since. he’s a jerk.”

“finally someone who thinks the same as me!” taehyun said making you chuckle.

“then get back at him! you know the one thing that makes him who he is is that damn football.” Isa said.

you tried to be the bigger person this whole time, not paying much mind to his little remarks or pranks he pulls, biting back a little wouldn’t hurt right?

“you know what, you’re right.”

“lee heeseung, mrs. park wants to speak to you.” mr.jung said calling heeseung.

heeseung who was barely paying attention heard his name. his frowned at this. what on earth could she want to talk about with him? either way, he went to her classroom.

he entered the empty classroom to find his coach and mrs.park, waiting for him. what the fuck? heeseung was more confused now. maybe they were going to congratulate him for the good work this semester? his coach’s face said otherwise though.

“there you are, you may be wondering why you’re here..” mrs.park started. heeseung nodded, feeling uneasy.

“a student came forward, showing how you copied word for word her whole assignment, the one i assigned a week ago. i didn’t notice it at first but it’s very clear now, you may know how cheating is unacceptable in my class, i’ve decided to fail you in this assignment, plus you’ll be serving detention this whole week..” she turned to the coach.

heeseung’s heart started beating at a rapid pace, he’s never been caught cheating, and being failed on the assignment that was a big part of his grade, it means he’s most likely failing the class now. the rules for football stated that all players should be passing all of their classes if not, they’ll be dropped….

no no no, the lee heeseung can’t be dropped. he’s the captain! the star player!

“since you’re failing this class heeseung, i think you know what’s about to happe-“

“please coach! don’t kick me out, i’m the captain! what would the team do without me? i’ll get my grade up as soon as possible im-“

“calm down calm down, i’m not going to kick you out, it’s the middle of the season, but unfortunately you won’t be playing the next three games. if your grade is not up by then, then i will drop you. understood?” his coach stated earning a sharp nod by heeseung.

he’s glad he’s still on the team but what’s the point if he can’t play? he’s going to become a joke. the captain that’s a bench warmer. how stupid.

he left the classroom enraged. he knows exactly who did this.

“bro what? what do you mean you ain’t gonna play ?” riki said in disbelief at what his captain just said.

“some snitch told mrs.park that i cheated on the last assignment and coach suspended me for the next three games, and i got detention all week!” sunghoon unknowingly chuckled. heeseung looked at him with a glare.

“what? she got you good, what did you expect hee?” sunghoon kept laughing, making some of the others also laugh silently.

heeseung had nothing to say back, he just rolled his eyes. “tch, whatever.”

nevertheless, you were overjoyed seeing heeseung slouching on the bench. you couldn’t miss this once in a lifetime scenario. obviously you were the cause for it. heeseung asks Isa almost all the time for her notes or to straight up copy her. she willingly let you rat him out after what he did to you.

he can sense how all eyes were on him, but he just tried to block everyone out a focus on the game. he had a poker face on, but deep inside he was irritated . he saw how you were smirking and laughing with your two little friends. you knew what you were doing.

>>

“ahh look who it is, the benchwarmer! “ you said chuckling as you made your way to heeseung.

after the team (barely) won, jake threw an ‘after party’ at his house. even though you don’t normally go to these parties, especially from those boys, you felt like a party would do good with your marvellous mood. something about seeing heeseung’s frowny face made feel over the moon.

“seems like cat got your tongue now huh? dont have anything to say-“

in a blink of an eye you were pulled into a room, heeseung’s fingers wrapped around your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

“what the fuck? heeseung-“

“shut the fuck up.” his hoarse voice caught you off guard. he was actually really mad.

“you think what you did it’s fucking funny? huh? almost getting me kicked out ? “ you’ve never seen him this enraged before. making you almost scared, yet….kinda turned on? no, you hate him, snap out of it! you told yourself yet the wetness in between your legs became hard to ignore.

you didn’t respond. “fuck, you’re so annoying, i can’t fucking stand you. i hate you.” he saw lowly. fuck that was hot.

you spoke before thinking. “then show me.”

not needing to tell him twice, heeseung pulled you completely in. your lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle, a fierce and consuming clash that spoke longing and raw need.

The kiss deepened, fueled by an unspoken urgency, their mouths exploring each other with a fervor that left y’all breathless. his grip on your neck becoming tighter.

“shit im gonna show you to fucking behave.” he said before pushing you into the bed forcefully. you may have discovered a new kink of yours. watching as he undressed himself and yourself rapidly. feeling his anger through every touch he gave you.

he rubbed through your folds before inserting two fingers aggressively. your body jolted at the sudden move.

“holy shit go softer dumbass.”

“aw you think i give a fuck? suck it up and take it since you think you’re all that.” his fingers pumped faster and faster making it hard for you to answer back to his stupid remarks.

“oh my god..” you tried to pull his hand away before you cum. not wanting to see you orgasm so easily yet.

“just fuck me already heeseung, or is your dick as tiny as your brain?”

heeseung looked darkly at you. that stupid mouth of yours can’t shut up will it?

he retracted his fingers put of you and took his boxers off. wanting nothing more than to prove you wrong.

shit. your eyes went wide at what stood in front of you. saying he was big was an understatement. it was like a zipper for your mouth. how was that thing going to fit inside of you?

“can’t say anything now, can you slut?” he pulled your legs down the mattress to have you at the perfect angle to ram into you.

heeseung ran his til over your folds, teasing his way in. making you aggrevated.

“just put it in for fucks sake!”

“tell me how bad you want it.” you shook your head, no way were you going to beg. no way.

“alright then, i guess im gonna go.” he said letting go of your waist, acting as if he was going to leave.

“okay okay! please fuck me, i want it so bad, i want your big cock so bad heeseung.” heeseung moaned at your words. he didn’t wait any longer and thrusted all of him in you.

you both moaned yet it was more painful for you. you’ve never had something so big inside you before.

“fuck yeah..” he said then grabbing your neck, slightly choking you. your hands went to his biceps, trying to find something to hold on to as the speed he was thrusting in became more hostile.

“fuck me harder, like the asshole you are.” you said in between breaths. heeseung took the challenge and thrusted violently. the skin slapping and wetness of your core could probably be heard in the party outside.

“of course a whore like you would like to be fucked like this.”

before you could respond he pulled out of you earning a desperate groan from you, but then your were flipped, now on all fours and before you knew it he was back in you again. gripping your hip with one hand while he pulled your hair on the other.

“such a tight pussy, you probably fantasized about this am i right?” he said in your ear. you shook your head through your moan.

“in your dreams lee, in your fucking dreams. fuck you.”

“i’m quite literally doing that.” chuckling, he let go of your hair and instead gripped your other hip, going in deeper, nudging your cervix literally driving you to an edge.

“fuck i’m cumming.” you cried out. never has an orgasm felt like this. heeseung was on edge as well, feeling you clench around his dick did it for him.

your climax rose over you, making you fall into the pillow while heeseung kept thrusting until his own organs came over him, pulling out and releasing his white ropes all over your back.

tiredly, he laid besides you in the strangers bed, not knowing what to say now.

you turned to him, smirking. “i think i may hate you even more now.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #kpop #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung angst #enemies to lovers #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #enhypen heeseung imagines #kpop smut #heeseung

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane. 

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?”  He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room),  starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?” 

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in. 

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting. 

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right. 

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him. 

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes. 

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-” 

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #batman #danny phantom #dead on main #soulmate au #my writing #fanfiction #red hood #danny fenton #jason todd #I'm so sorry for starting another one #this is just a one-shot right now #but the ideas have hit me so I may write more later #trying not to get distracted from my other fics #but also trying not to let focus on my other fics hinder writing in general #cause sometimes if I try too hard to focus on one thing I just get super stuck and upset and end up not being able to work on it at all #oh well #writing is writing #hope you enjoy #whatever this was

[luveline]

Hi Jade!! I love your writing so much! you wrote a few fics of postprison!reid with kinda shy!reader like the one where she faints and I loved that dynamic and that Reid, do you think you could write some more? pls pls pls <3333333

cw non-consensual drug use /reader is spiked 

Spencer is quite gorgeous. He has a great smile, soft and a little shy without teeth, exuberantly bright like a commercial with teeth. He’s smiling like he can read your mind now, fishing for your hand, and taking it into both of his. Your pinky in one hand and your index the other, he wriggles your hand back and forth and laughs softly. “You don’t handle inebriation well.” 

“What?” you ask, startled. You can’t believe he’s touching you like this, casual, like he’s your boyfriend. Your hot boyfriend.

“You think I’m hot?” 

You squint at him. “What?” you ask. 

He covers your hand gently with both of his. “Nevermind. Do you want something to eat now?” 

“No.” You’ll throw up. Chunks, probably, your breakfast. And it wasn’t even a healthy breakfast. It was waffles and whipped cream and then a donut on the way to the office, Spencer will be able to tell, he’s too smart, he’s too everything. 

“I’m not that smart,” he says kindly. 

That’s a straight up lie. 

He laughs heartily, at odds with his quiet talking, and you’re so confused because it’s like he’s reading your mind? Can he read your mind? There’s so much stuff about yourself you don’t want him to know, your chest hurts thinking about it, you don’t want to tell him anything—

“I think I’ll go find you a hot chocolate,” Spencer says, the sleeve of his shirt falling down unbuttoned to his wrist as he stands. He pushes it back up. He is surprisingly underdressed today and you’ve no idea why. “Does that sound nice?” 

“I don’t think you should leave.” 

“I don’t want you to tell me stuff you don’t want to tell me,” he says. 

“But if you leave I’ll be by myself.” You sound strange to your ears. Crackly, like a garden fire.

Spencer perches himself on the hospital bed next to you. You’re sitting cross-cross on the tight white and blue sheets, waiting for something? Something was supposed to happen, you know that. A doctor was going to take your blood. You look down at the crook of your elbow to find they already have, a cotton pad medical-taped to the skin. 

“I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to go,” he says, taking your arm into his hands with the same care he’d shown your fingers. He lifts the corner of the tape and begins to pull it away from the direction it had been stuck in, stretching it, and removing it from you without any pain. 

“Where did you learn that?” you ask. 

Spencer holds your arm in his hand now the cotton ball is done. “Learn what?” 

You’re not interested in asking him again. Weirdly, your throat feels dry, but you won’t tell him because he’ll offer hot chocolate again and you don’t want him to go. 

“Hey,” he says, “not going anywhere until it wears off. Not if you need me.” 

How does he always know what to say? 

“You know, why don’t you get into bed and lay down for a little bit? You must be tired, sitting up. It’s so late.” His voice is a sheet of silk. 

“I thought we were going home?” you ask. 

“We can’t, bub,” —that’s a new one— “not for now. But we will tonight, I promise.” 

“Why not now?” 

He smiles sadly. “‘Cos you’re coming down, Y/N.” 

You frown. “Oh.” 

“I know.” Spencer wraps and arm around your back. “But you’re not alone.” He ducks in until your faces are almost touching. “You know? It’ll go away soon.” 

You don’t know why you say it, but you say, “You’re so nice to me. Even when you’re scary.” 

“Am I scary?” he murmurs. 

You look at him long and hard, feeling the warm rub of his thumb as he smooths a short line into your back. Spencer is intimidating, maybe, because you hadn’t known him when he got out of prison, and he's pretty like a model, or a movie star. But he isn’t scary. That’s not the right word. 

“No,” you say. “I guess not.” You pause. “I feel weird.” 

He doesn’t laugh like you, just hugs you tighter. “It’ll get better.” 

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