#… besides when they’re talking to each other

[monstas1ut]

Characters when they’re breeding you :)

SASUKE UCHIHA, SATORU GOJO, EREN YEAGER

Contains

__ +18 black coded reader, female reader, Squirting ,creaming, the word slut, impreg, breeding, size diff, teasing, pussy eating, talk of getting reader pregnant, unprotected sex

___brown skin can be dark, light, medium color.. whatever. brown is brown.. and it's gorgeous

a/n

__ I’m so sorry I didn’t post in a year I think lmao. Idk what happened. Forgive me :(

Sasuke Uchiha

It’s not unknown, everyone has heard his preaching about his clan and he wants to restore it. However, most people are more of speaking behind his back. How can he restore a clan when he is the only one left and yet he’s cold, frosted and lonesome? Where is the woman of his dreams? It’s merely the fact of his life, and frankly, even he knew it. Appearing to everyone in Konoha, he’s lonely, an outcast, forlorn.

That truly wasn’t it. The male simply didn’t want to settle for a woman that wasn’t worth his while. This man came from a family filled with talent and ruthless power. Indeed, he could’ve easily rushed into a relationship, however he would like more of a stable relationship. Now, justified, he is fucking a woman that bared no ring on her finger yet, but she was still his.

How could anyone not tell? The second she decided to move into the village, Sasuke found himself staying longer rather than going out on ventures. Everyone figured he’d just gotten tired, and that’s when women of all different shapes and sizes would line up. Unfortunately, they just didn’t understand… They didn’t get it.

“How come you’re so strong, but you can’t give me more..” Those words were like a black feather running down your back. All you could feel were your knees giving out, your body seeping into the bed. But Sasuke wasn’t having that… no.. he needs you to cum again. He needs you at your most neediest, he needs to warp your mind. Maybe it was manipulation, but you enjoyed his dick so much.. how come you weren’t trying to give him a baby already?

Okay.

“Sasukeee, shit~! Stop- gonna make me squirt..” Your words fell on deaf ears. Truly, the Uchiha couldn’t care or give a damn. Besides, you didn't taste bad at all. The male’s tongue was not afraid to slip into regions nobody has ever been before. Your pretty, glistening, brown lips were dripping in juices and saliva. It was a mess, and Sasuke purely enjoyed you in such a state. He’s not known to be with many women but he knew what he was doing. Seeing how you were slipping right through his fingers from pure ecstasy, seeing your pussy gush from just a bit of sucking on that clit… It was easy… But Sasuke would’ve been curse you if you weren’t so damn beautiful.

“There it is.. Don’t make it difficult next time.”

This man couldn’t hide it. He was entranced, he was deeply in love. If you could see him right now, your pussy juices dripping from his face, his right eye was now a deep red that showed the uchiha’s purpose. Red, menacing and ruthless.. while the other stayed that pretty purple. His senses, they were all on you. His eyes half lidded and his lips almost parted from each other as his fair colored cock slipped right back into you. Right after slurping on that pussy like a good smoothie.

It turned your world quick. He slid in like a key, it was perfect. Those veiny hands touched your shoulders, causing you to shiver as he ran down your shimmery brown arms, right to your wrists. Your pretty, fucked out face was pushed firm into the bed as you had no leverage to keep yourself up. Drool seeped out of your mouth onto the sheets as your eyes yelled with hearts.

You loved this man. Should you give him children? No… yes? Your mind was all over the place, but it stayed stuck in the gutter.

Sasuke kept both your wrists, pulling them back as he watched you give in. He could physically see it happen to you. It actually made his eyes widen just a smidge as the blood continued to run to his cock. Fuck. Were you really giving up? He noticed your tone, how your moans were more like chirps, whines. He didn’t stop. His thrusts were rough yet so slow and dangerously addictive. Each thrust gave a flutter to your insides, the ripples of your ass got more intense with each one. Sasuke damn sure didn’t take his eyes off of that, he loved the way that brown mound of an ass slapped against him. It was so far from ugly.

“What are you going to do for me…” His voice was grazing your skin, his breathing only getting louder as he held back each moan… The mattress was poor, all of the convincing, the pleas.. the mattress was just as broken down as you. Your walls were so nicely abused by this man that you had to thank him. You truly did! And as your next orgasm began to fall, you did too.

“Oh-oh-.. fuck! M-Imma’ give you a baby.. my- fuck Sasuke! Imma have your baby-..” it was so hard for you to speak, and yet you spit it out. Oh, you got to hear the pathetic groan of Sasuke.. just continuously diving deep into you as he let go of your wrists unwillingly. It’s like his hands got weak. You noticed this and practically gasped before lifting your upper body and he just knew his time was done.

Sasuke uchiha took pride in himself, but this? You were such a little sex demon.

“Yeah.. imma give you all your fuckin babies.. get me pregnant.” Now sass revealed, and Sasuke was trying to bite back his words and imagination. It was going wild while he noticed you bouncing back on his cock. It was disappearing every second, your pussy just swallowed it up with each bounce. He couldn’t even keep up… no, he kept thinking about that round belly.

His fingers were digging so hard in your hips they may leave marks. That’s how you knew he was so close.. he was right there. It was true, Sasuke’s breathing was getting heavier, quicker.. and his grip on you was tight.. but not as tight as your pussy.

“Too fucking tight.. take it… take it all then.” Although his voice was deep, he couldn’t hide that sharp, whistle of a moan that slipped by when he pushed forward, just balls deep in your brown pretty pussy. You couldn’t breathe, but you felt the warmth and splash of cum in your pussy. It was so much, it happened so quickly..

And all you had to say was that you’d have his babies…?

“All that cum…” You whispered as his head was resting on your upper back. You could feel his breathing all hot on your back as he was actually rubbing his thumbs gently on your hips. He was such a meanie but sometimes he just knew when to be nice. He was going to have to be nicer when you’re plump with his kids…

Satoru Gojo

You merely believe he’s joking. Literally, you didn’t blink an eye. Perhaps that sent a terrible message to the jokester. Fanning your hand at him, watching a shitty little documentary about something boring. The clocks in your head just weren’t turning correctly. But seriously, how could they when this grown man was pouting?

“Y/n… I want a baby. I wanna dress him up in identical clothes.” He said, you remember it clearly when he said this. He was not serious, couldn’t be. That little laugh that came from him, his animated expressions of demonstrating having a child. “Yeah okay Gojo” you spit out, only to turn back to your phone without having another thought about it.

You literally signed your name on the dotted line.

“You promiseeeee?”

“Yeah yeah..”

That’s what you said, and Satoru nodded. Now why did you believe that was the end of it? Probably because your boyfriend is a jokester and he plays too many games. You could tell when he was joking or being serious right? Or maybe you just weren’t looking at him and taking him seriously? It was the latter.

The whole day was filled with normalcy , nothing said of a baby nor a child. It was supposed to be a joke.

“Na ah ah… Keep them just~ like~ this~… Makes ya’ look even prettier this way” The male was piercing you with his words, they dug right in you just like his cock. He was just simply admiring his work, watching you fold your legs in a pretzel by his command. He really took a liking to this position, especially since he could hold onto your ankles.

All you did was shakily breathe out, your eyes filled with gloss and regret. Why didn’t you believe him? Now your pussy was getting all ruined and messy. And he was chuckling about it!

“Atta girl..” he spoke, the steam of his words burning right through you as you squeezed your eyes shut. Embarrassed by your gushy noises coming from your needy cunt, you decided not looking at Satoru would suffice. However, he just wasn’t having that.. first you don’t believe him, now you didn’t want to look at him? You were going to be teased today, you deserved it.

“Look at me, pretty. Watch me put a baby in you, since you thought I was jokin’..” Satoru didn’t miss a beat, his cock going in and out and in and out. You were forced to stare at him now, but you got butterflies looking into his deep, light blue eyes. They glowed with intent on getting you full with babies. But you couldn’t look at his cock going in and out. If you did, you’d see your lower stomach just bulging out ever so slightly. He was so juicy and big. His cock was as pale colored as him, veiny and had an ever so slight curve that would tease at your g-spot. And the tip of it was so pink, just as pink as your insides.

“S-Sat-…”

“That’s not my name.. Say it full out for me” His smirk was laced throughout his words as he watched your eyes roll back. Those pretty russet colored breasts were bouncing so much he could internally laugh at your predicament… Sure, you looked beautiful but sometimes it’s funny when you’re wrong. And you were wrong about it all. “Satoru… Satoru baby..” you choked out, your legs slipping from the pretzel position as you became tired.. but he just gave a little shrug.

It was alright, because he pressed his lanky fingers and his palm against the underside of your thighs and he pushed forward. You were folded up again, yet in an entirely different position as you watched him concentrate. He couldn’t stop, not for a second. Those burly arms of his were flexing as his pretty blue eyes watched your pussy eat his cock up. He was enjoying the show… and he enjoyed it even more when your eyebrows were all furrowed. He only looked up at your face once to experience heaven.

“Satoru-… O-Okay~… J-Just dump a baby in me- fuck.” You finally said it, and you threw your head back as he sped up his thrusts. His white locks of hair looked like the sun up above as he had a daring smirk on his face before he got serious. That pussy was talking to him, and he’d be dumb not to respond.

The bed was making noise with each thrust, and Satoru gripped your thighs tight. He tightened his core and gave it all he had, turns out that was just a bit too much for you because you were already creaming on his pretty dick. It was an artistic expression.. just coating his cock in your cum, it made him chuckle.. a moan following it.

“Messy…” Satoru muttered before the thrusts ceased and he slid out of your pretty little gaping hole before gently slipping two lanky fingers into you. It made you jolt with pleasure and overstimulation. It made you look at him with confusion, but you were too late. His cock slid right back into you, and his fingers slipped into his mouth.. just tasting every bit of your naughty substances.

“Oh my god-..” you moaned loudly, feeling like you were going to cry from the deepest sex you’ve ever experienced. But you weren’t the only one. Tasting your sweet cum while digging in your pussy with his tip was the best feeling ever. And Satoru was not one to keep his moans to himself. He made sure you knew your pussy was the best.

“Gonna have my baby right?”

“Yess-.. all of them…” you cried out, gripping the bedsheets and damn near tearing them.. that’s before you heard the prettiest, deepest moan. His blue eyes were filled with intense energy and warmth, that’s before you were filled with the same things… warmth and his energy.

“Damn right”

Eren Yeager

“You think I’d look cute pregnant or would I look ugly?”

Eren looked at you while you had stuffed clothes under your shirt. You shaped it so it looked like a belly, and to be fair.. you looked cute. Not saying that because you were his girlfriend, but just in general. He kind of rolled his eyes though. “Cute. Why would you look ugly” his tone sounds like he’s uninterested, but his heart thumped in ways he couldn’t explain. He never really thought of you pregnant.. and why the hell not?

“Dunno. I just can’t see it.” You added as you removed the clothes, only adding fire to the already burning house that was laying on the bed as it watched you in the bathroom mirror.

That’s when said house stood up and with a sigh he and his tall form was now behind you. His long, brown hair tickled your head while his hands grazed against your ass before stopping at your hips. He was bare at the top… scars and battles from the war on his chest that showed his strength.. truth be told, it made you wet.

“Can’t see it? Well maybe cuz’ it’s not real. See.. women get a glow from pregnancy.. not sayin you ain’t already got that.. but it’s a different glow.” Eren explained gently as you felt the cold touch of his chain behind you.. just whispering against the back of your neck. You stared at him in the mirror as he smirked with those pretty white teeth. “And how do you know all that..” you purred, almost teasing him.

“It’s a real thing.. some women get it. But you’re so gorgeous, I just know you’d turn even more heads than you do already, baby” He stopped to look at you, but not in the mirror.. from the side of your face before he kissed your jawline. “Eren… you don’t know that though-..” “wanna bet?”

The little sex fairy put an arrow right through the both of you. Had you not looked at him in a sultry manner, Eren would’ve probably let it go. He hasn’t thought about babies.. but the second you say something about pregnancy and he’s all over it like white on rice. To be fair, it was quite pathetic in a way, and he’ll admit it.. but he got weak thinking about you just all chunky with his kid.

Eren’s imagination was bright and sunny, and his determination was just that much bigger.

“R-Right there….” You sharply breathed in as you watched the man in the mirror. His veiny, scruff hand around your throat with ease. He was treating you like a puppet, making sure you stayed in the same position, and moved to his heart's content. “I know baby.. I know..” he practically cooed, his other hand caressing your thigh that was up on the sink counter. It was jiggling just as much as your ass was as he gave slow and soft strokes inside of you. This was one of Eren’s soft days.. Free from anger, free from frustration.. he has been like this for awhile now.. maybe after being discharged he’s calmed down.

Sex with him now is like a sweet sensual melody… and as of right now, he needed it to be.

“What am I doin right now, baby..”

“Y-You m-makin love to me..” you slurred out, eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head as you choked back a moan.

“Thats right… and why am I going so deep..”

“So I can give y-fuck… so I can give you a baby..” you moaned out sharply as the once cold, marble counter was now filled with the warmth of your body heat and the warm sex you two were taking part in.. The floor beneath you both was a bit wet, Eren didn’t care… He never did care for mess. Especially now.

“Thats right… Give me that reward for beating this pussy so good.” The words Eren spoke were like vibrations to your clit. It shook you to your core, like it was on the highest setting. He knew what to say and what buttons to press in your mind. Not only that, but he knew this position was so deep. You were opened up like a slut, and the way your pussy was gurgling on his cock was just embarrassing.. but that showed just how open it was.. how stretched it was for him and him only.

Eren loved it, let alone your tears falling down your face. It made him speed up. The small little decor on the sink’s counter was pushed off by accident, and your body was now being lifted from the floor a bit as his thrusts were now close together. You couldn’t feel the floor with your foot.. and the other was perched on the counter still.

“Eren!.. oh- fuck me..” your mind was spinning. It’s like you could feel each vein of his cock on your pink walls. You could feel your pussy crying for release, your orgasm at the tippy top. It was like a waterfall, your body trembled, but you could tell you weren’t the only one reaching that high.

Eren got quiet. And everytime he gets quiet, he starts biting that bottom lip of his.. he gets all red in the face and his brown hair starts to stick to his forehead a bit. His eyes spark focus, and he will then drop his head back. You watched it in the mirror, his every move.. that’s before he looked at you in the mirror once before a husky chuckle left his lips.. a moan escaping from his throat.. it was from the depths of his heart..

And his cum straight from his heavy balls went straight into your wetness. Your body took in every drop, every single one.

“I-Ion know if that did it or not..lemme try again”

ⓒ Monstas1ut .do not copy

[mashtatosworld]

eyes on me (1)

summary: the beginning of your story with bigbang as a producer for the MADE documentary. but timing is everything in life. and it can split a person in two.

a/n: this will be a jiyong x reader x daesung series <3

The room was stifling.

You sat rigid, fingers clenched around your pen, silently willing yourself not to meet the eyes that had been burning into you for the last hour.

Unrelenting.

Dark.

Distrustful.

He hated you.

And he barely even knew your name.

Yang Hyunsuk continued talking, your boss nodding along beside you as you took notes diligently, pretending not to notice the weight of that gaze.

GDragon - Kwon Jiyong - made sharp, pointed comments between long stretches of silence. Each one caused your grip on the pen to falter.

“This is bullshit.”

“I refuse to cooperate.”

“I’d sooner jump off stage than film this documentary.”

This meeting was supposed to be exciting.

Your first real assignment beyond editing drafts or scrolling through fashion blogs - a role as a producer for Big Bang’s MADE tour documentary. But the band’s reactions were… mixed.

Understandable, of course.

They were intensely private.

And you?

You were the outsider, the threat. The girl with the pen and the camera and too many questions.

Especially to him.

Jiyong.

He didn’t trust you.

“I can assure you all that y/n is very good at her job,” your boss said, attempting to smooth things over. “She’ll ask questions only if you feel comfortable answering.”

“I won’t be answering anything,” Jiyong said flatly.

Hyunsuk sighed, clearly tired of this.

But then Daesung leaned forward, folding his hands on the glass table. “I think… this could be exciting.”

You met his kind eyes and gave a small, grateful smile. “A lot of artists look back on their tour footage fondly. We’re simply capturing the memories while they’re happening.”

“And sharing them with the world,” Jiyong muttered, not even looking at you.

You quickly looked down again.

“I’m in,” Youngbae offered with a shrug, glancing around. “I mean, how much harm could it do?”

“A lot,” Seunghyun muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “But… art is art. This is just another expression of it.”

Eventually, one by one, the others began to agree - mostly reluctantly, but the decision was made. The documentary was happening.

And you could finally breathe again.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You slipped out of the boardroom the moment the papers were signed and made a direct path to the water dispenser. Your hands trembled slightly as you filled the paper cup.

You’re okay. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

"I'm looking forward to it."

You jumped at the voice, nearly spilling your drink. Turning around, you found Daesung standing behind you, hands tucked in his pockets, smiling gently.

“Oh - sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

He tilted his head. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to say… I think this’ll be a good thing.”

You smiled, nerves easing. “Thank you. I’ve always wanted to travel, so it’s already a dream job.”

He grinned. “Ah, well… tour life isn't always that dreamy. We live off instant noodles, energy drinks and alcohol. Mostly Seunghyun and Jiyong’s fault, honestly.”

You laughed, surprising yourself. “Good to know. I enjoy a glass of wine myself."

“So you'll fit right in.” He chuckled, then hesitated. “You’ll be okay, y/n.”

You met his gaze. “I hope so.”

And just like that, the sharp edges of your day began to soften.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

It didn’t take long to learn that while the boys were a tight-knit group, each of them were wildly different in energy and temperament. Youngbae was warm and helpful. Seunghyun was mischievous but kind in his own way. Daesung was steady - your soft landing.

And Jiyong?

Jiyong was still a wall you couldn't climb.

He hadn’t said a word to you since that meeting. Hadn’t acknowledged your presence, even when the camera passed over him in rehearsals or during casual crew meals.

But he watched.

You felt it.

And it was only a matter of time before that fire did something more than just burn.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Touring with Big Bang was like being stuck inside a fever dream.

The days blurred into long stretches of rehearsal, cramped travel, last-minute tech issues, and night after night of performances that left you breathless - even from behind the camera.

And through all of it, you were alone.

Floating on the edges of the crew, invisible in the shadows, with your headphones on and your clipboard clutched like armour.

You were good at your job. Everyone said so.

But being surrounded by a group as close as BigBang- brothers in every sense of the word - made your isolation feel ten times heavier.

The hardest part?

Jiyong still hadn’t said a word to you.

He’d laugh with Youngbae, joke with Seunghyun, hang off Daesung’s shoulder like the most charming man on earth - but with you, it was silence.

Except his eyes.

He looked at you.

Always.

Sharp glances across the dressing room. Lingering stares during soundcheck. You’d turn a corner and find him already watching.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted to run or ask him why.

But then, during a show in Osaka, something cracked.

You were standing in the wings, eyes following Jiyong as he strutted off-stage after Zutter - sweat-soaked and breathless, his mic swinging from his hand.

He was dazzling.

Magnetic.

You didn’t expect him to look your way.

And you definitely didn’t expect him to collapse.

It was like a string had been cut - his body dropping suddenly, gracelessly, onto the floor.

The crew screamed.

Chaos erupted.

You didn’t think.

You just ran.

Dropping your gear, you were the first at his side, kneeling beside him as he fought to stay conscious.

His skin was blazing hot, clothes soaked through.

Heatstroke.

You’d seen it before.

And you knew it could be life-threatening.

You grabbed a cold bottle of water from the nearest outstretched hand, pressing it to his neck, fanning his face with your hand.

Other frantic hands joined yours, but they focused on tugging at his clothes, unzipping the jacket only to force a new one in its place.

"What are you doing?" you snapped at them but they didn't listen to you, only focused on dressing him for his next song.

The idol gasped for breath, squeezing his eyes shut as his vision blurred.

“Jiyong - hey, just breathe,” you urged, voice soft but firm. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

He blinked, dazed, unfocused. You could see the fear behind his eyes. The confusion.

“We need a medic - ” His manager was yelling behind you, but Jiyong’s fingers clutched yours suddenly.

Desperate.

Shaky.

Scared.

You didn’t pull away. You squeezed back.

It was the first time he’d touched you.

Minutes passed.

"I need to go back on," he murmured, trying to lift his head from the floor. "I need - " his head hit the ground again, unable to hold himself up.

He was still due to go back on stage for Bae Bae, the opening chords awakening him from his daze.

"You need to rest," you denied but a flurry of hands soon swept him up and somehow, he remained standing. Stumbling under the lights, finishing the song with sheer willpower and muscle memory.

But the moment he was offstage again, he collapsed straight into your arms.

You caught him.

Knees hitting the ground as he sagged against you. You carefully guided him to the ground, your hand became trapped beneath his head but you let it stay there, offering him what comfort you could.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t open his eyes. Just gripped your hand like a lifeline.

And for that moment… there was no tense silence between you.

Just two people in the quiet chaos of something real.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You hadn't seen him since that night.

A week passed by and the band were finally ready to perform again. And they did. It had been nerve-wracking, watching from the sidelines, your eyes pinned to Jiyong the whole time - wondering if he was ok.

But he had put on a show stopping performance and you breathed out in relief when it was over.

“Hey,” Daesung appeared beside you just as you were packing up camera batteries in the empty dressing room. “Would you maybe, um... did you want to grab some drinks later?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really? Me?”

"Daesung!" Seunghyun called from across the room, half-way out of the door. "Are you inviting her out tonight?"

"Yeah but - "

"Perfect. Meet us at the club! We've booked a booth." He was gone again and you turned your eyes back to Daesung whose shoulders slumped forward with a sigh.

"So it's a group outing?"

“Yeah.” He murmured. “I guess it is."

You hesitated, then nodded. “Okay... I'll see you there then."

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The club was already dark and hazy by the time you arrived.

You found the others crammed into a private lounge area in the back, sharing drinks and laughing together.

You weren’t exactly dressed to impress - light jacket, hair pinned back, your usual practical self - but Daesung smiled when he saw you.

He sat beside you for a while, keeping you company as Seunghyun and Youngbae got into a heated debate over setlists, but the music was so loud that it made casual conversation nearly impossible.

Eventually, Daesung leaned in.

“This isn't really my kind of scene,” he said, with a frown. “I think I’m gonna head back.”

“Oh… okay.” You tried not to sound disappointed.

“Did you - well, are you staying here?"

You blinked, then looked down at the drink in your hand. Was that an invitation to leave with him or was the alcohol making you read into things that weren't there?

“I guess?" You looked back at him, hopeful, waiting for his response.

He cleared his throat and nodded. "Ok. Stay safe, y/n. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

He gave your shoulder a warm squeeze and slipped out, leaving you sandwiched between a couple of backup dancers and your untouched drink.

A wave of disappointment and rejection rolled over you.

You needed air.

You saw the sign for the outdoor smoking area and hurried towards it. But the moment the door shut behind you, the music muffled, you felt a pair of eyes on you.

Jiyong was already out there. Alone.

Leaning against the far railing, cigarette between his fingers, drink in the other. The city lights scattered behind him like a crown, and even from this distance, you felt him watching you.

You froze.

He didn’t move. Just tilted his head slightly, lifting his glass in greeting.

You gave him a quick nod and crossed to the far end of the terrace, dragging in a breath as you leaned against the cool rail. You weren’t trying to bother him.

But then… you weren’t trying to avoid him either.

Minutes passed. You could hear the flick of his lighter, the exhale of smoke. Feel the weight of his gaze.

Then - footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

He stopped beside you, far too close for comfort, and yet you didn’t shift away.

“You don’t smoke,” he murmured, glancing down at your hands.

“Just needed air.”

He hummed low in his throat. “Me too," And then he took a long, pointed drag of his cigarette, looking down at you with an amused smirk.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "Very refreshing."

Jiyong nodded, raising a brow. "Ah, you see it's not just about the air out here. The view helps. I'm a very visual person."

His gaze travelled from the city lights back to you.

You didn’t answer.

His cologne was heady, his voice low and lazy with drink, and the heat of his body at your side was… distracting.

"I'm sorry I've been giving you such a hard time," he added after a beat. "I've been under a lot of pressure. And I don't always deal with my feelings very well. Especially if I'm nervous... You make me nervous - if that wasn't clear."

"Oh." You tightened your grip on the rail. "Is that... because of the documentary? Because of the questions?"

"What questions?" he teased. "You haven't asked me any yet."

You gave him a sidewards glance. "Is that such a surprise?"

He shook his head, casting his smile back to the city lights. "Ask me one now. I promise I'll answer."

"Ok..." You tilted your head in thought, wracking your brain for the right thing to say. All of the questions on your list back at the hotel seemed to slip your mind. "Are you having fun tonight?"

Jiyong hadn't been expecting that and laughed loudly, prompting you to smile. His radiance was infectious.

"No," he shook his head still smiling. "I wasn't, but now I think that's changing."

"Oh, it must be the fresh air," you inclined your head towards his burning cigarette with a playful smirk.

"Something like that," he murmured, taking a drag as he held your gaze. “Can I ask you a question now?”

“I'd prefer to remain a mystery,” you said smoothly.

“Shame.”

You met his intense gaze suddenly.

His lips were curved - not into a smile, not quite - and his eyes were hooded, flicking briefly to your mouth before meeting your stare again.

He set his glass down and dropped his cigarette into the remains of gold liquid.

Your breath caught.

Your heart was a drum in your chest, pounding louder than the bass of the club. His watchful gaze held you still - not demanding, but full of that unmistakable pull, the kind that made it hard to think.

You felt his hand skim the edge of your hip, then flatten against your lower back. The contact sent a shock straight through you.

“This is a bad idea,” you breathed.

“Definitely,” he said, before closing the distance.

His mouth caught yours in a kiss that was all fire and frustration, months of tension crashing together in one dizzying, hungry second.

He tasted like rum and smoke and trouble.

One hand tangled into your hair, the other still firm against your back as he drew you in.

You melted into his heated touch before you could stop yourself.

The kiss wasn’t slow or sweet - it was sharp-edged, breathless, the kind that left no room for questions.

Your back hit the railing and he pressed in closer, deepening it, tongue brushing yours as your hands gripped his jacket.

He pulled back just barely, lips grazing yours, breathing heavy. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him again - harder this time - fingers slipping into his hair, tugging, losing yourself in the heat of it all. The city lights behind your closed eyes blurred into nothing, the bass inside became background noise, and all you could feel was him.

When he finally pulled back for air, you were flushed, dazed, and trembling slightly.

His thumb dragged lightly over your bottom lip, and his eyes locked on yours with something unreadable.

“Come with me,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be.

You let him take your hand.

The walk back to the hotel was a blur - the quiet hush of empty hallways, the weight of silence thick with anticipation.

His hotel door clicked shut behind you.

And the rest - the way he touched you like he’d been waiting all tour to have you, the soft gasp of your name in the dark, your hands fisted in his dark hair - it all unfolded like a secret you weren’t supposed to discover.

But you did.

You remembered it. Every second.

And so did he.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

It hadn't stopped there.

You had thought it would be over when you slipped out of Jiyong’s hotel room the morning after.

One night.

A simple mistake.

A mix of exhaustion, too much alcohol, and loneliness wrapped in heat and urgency. That’s all it was.

But then it happened again.

And you stopped counting eventually. Somewhere along the line, it stopped feeling like a mistake.

It wasn't just the sex - though God, that was something.

It was the way he looked at you in the dark, after everything.

Quiet.

Raw.

Human.

Not G-Dragon. Not the legend or the headline.

Just Jiyong.

Maybe it started as a way to blow off steam.

You were constantly chasing light, capturing emotion, stitching together a documentary that didn’t step too far into their privacy but still said something.

Meanwhile, he was burning at both ends - switching between stages and press rooms, trying to keep his head on straight when the weight of his persona grew too heavy.

And yet… when it was just the two of you - hidden behind locked doors and drawn curtains - it was like exhaling after holding your breath for days.

You saw him soften.

You saw him shed.

He became talkative during interviews, more present, more grounded. And you started smiling more too, laughing off the stress, knowing you'd have somewhere - someone - to fall into at the end of the night.

It wasn’t love.

But it was something.

And neither of you wanted to name it just yet.

So it stayed hidden.

Although you soon learned that privacy was rare in the life of an idol.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

It was meant to be a prank.

They’d done it to Jiyong before: wait till he was mid-shower, break into his hotel room with the spare key, film him briefly, and vanish before he could snatch the phone.

Classic chaos. Group tradition.

So that night, while Jiyong was in his suite - supposedly alone - the others crept in, snickering like children, phones already rolling to film his inevitable scream when he saw them.

But when they burst into the bathroom, throwing open the door with a loud “YAH, GDRAGON, NICE ASS - ”

They froze.

So did you.

You and Jiyong were both behind the steamy glass of the shower, pressed up against each other, your hands caught somewhere they shouldn’t be.

For a second, no one moved.

Then you shrieked.

Loudly.

Jiyong’s arm shot out to pull you behind him. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Youngbae gasped and dropped his phone, covering his eyes. “Oh my god - ”

“Well that explains everything!” Seunghyun barked, already cackling as Daesung quickly backed out of the room. “I knew you were smiling more lately.”

“Hyung - shut the damn door!” Jiyong shouted.

Youngbae scrambled, eyes covered as he bashed into the door with a thud before blindly feeling for the handle and yanking it closed.

You leaned your forehead against Jiyong’s chest, mortified. “Oh my god.”

He sighed dramatically, rubbing your back. “Well, that’s one way to make it official.”

You smacked his shoulder. “This is so bad - ”

He grinned, brushing wet hair from your face. “Or maybe it's getting good.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

am i starting another series? yes. don't yell at me.

but don't worry, i've already got the next three chapters mostly finished...

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi , @deliciousmagazinequeen

[bvrnesher]

Hey!! I just stalked all of your jason grace fics and omg they’re all so wonderful!! I was wondering if i cohld request some headcanons for jason grace and a daughter of hades/pluto? sfw and nfsw if you’re comfortable? if not don’t even worry i will take whatever you feel comfortable with writing cause i love how you characterize him in your fics/headcannons! thank you so so much and no rush 🫶

❝ Jason x Hades child ! ❞ ― jason grace !

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

summary: jason grace x child of hades/pluto (both sfw and nsfw) ! dating/sex

— ✦ pairing: jason grace ! hades/pluto reader.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

— ୨ৎㅤ˳ SFW ㅤ

Jason is intrigued before he’s even in love. You’re not loud or flashy, but something about you lingers—like the moment after a thunderstorm, like silence that means something. He notices the way people pause around you. The way you hold space. The way your gaze is quiet, not cold. And he wants to know more.

You make him feel safe without even trying. It’s not that you’re overly nurturing or soft—it’s that your presence is anchoring. When Jason’s mind spirals—when he’s overwhelmed by expectations or the weight of his title—you’re the one who grounds him. One sentence from you, one glance, and it’s like the storm settles.

He’s the sunshine. You’re the shelter. He’s warm and golden and kind, always smiling for everyone else. But you? You don’t need him to perform. You’re the one person he doesn’t have to be "okay" around. You don’t demand vulnerability—you just make space for it. And that changes everything.

You’re both more alike than people assume. People expect you to be cold, just like they expect him to be perfect. But Jason has his quiet edges, his pressure points, his cracks—and you have your dry humor, your loyalty, your love for the little things (grave flowers, quiet walks, warm drinks). You get each other.

Jason notices every soft thing about you. The way you hum when you're distracted. How your lips curve in this barely-there smile when you’re amused. The careful way you close doors. You’re the daughter of death—but to Jason, you’re life in every small, specific way.

He’s a little in awe of your power—but not afraid of it. You could summon ghosts, split the earth, send nightmares running—but Jason sees the way you carry that strength like it’s a responsibility, not a weapon. He respects it. He respects you. That quiet reverence runs deep.

You have a secret soft spot for his dorky charm. When he smiles too wide, when he gets flustered and rambles, when he brings you flowers he clearly picked in a panic before meeting you—it melts you. You act unbothered, but your heart’s doing somersaults.

You’re very still. He’s always in motion. So sometimes, he lays his head in your lap just to be near your calm. You run your fingers through his hair while he talks through battle plans or childhood memories or nothing at all. And when he falls asleep there? You let him. Every time.

You balance his guilt. Jason carries so much of it—failed missions, fallen friends, mistakes he blames himself for. You don’t try to “fix” it—you just sit with it. A quiet, comforting presence beside him. And slowly, with you, the weight gets a little lighter.

Dates with you are simple—but unforgettable. Stargazing on rooftops. Reading together in the library. Sharing silent walks through the forest or the Underworld garden you tend. No noise, no pressure—just two souls finding comfort in each other’s company.

When he’s with you, Jason feels known. Not as a hero, not as a son of Jupiter, not as a leader—but as himself. You see through all the layers. And the fact that you stay, that you choose him—not for who he’s supposed to be, but who he really is—that means more than he could ever say.

Your first kiss doesn’t come after a battle—it comes after a quiet moment. Maybe you’re sitting by the fire after curfew, sharing warm drinks, just existing in that soft silence the two of you fall into so easily. Jason’s telling you something real—not dramatic, just personal—and he turns to look at you like he always does: steady, gentle. And something in you just clicks. You lean in. He meets you halfway. The kiss is slow, careful, like neither of you want to startle the moment. When you pull back, he smiles—really smiles. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

The first time he sees you laugh—really laugh—he falls a little harder. You rarely show that full, open emotion. So when something catches you off guard and you laugh so hard you have to cover your mouth, Jason just stares, stunned and totally in love. You tease him for it. He denies it. But later, when you're alone, he admits, “That sound could raise the dead.”

He’s fiercely protective—but never possessive. Jason is used to being the shield, the sword, the protector. But you? You’re capable. Powerful. So his protectiveness shows up in other ways: bringing you tea when you forget to eat, brushing snow from your shoulders after a quest, standing quietly beside you when someone’s trying to intimidate you—just being there without taking your agency away.

You wear his hoodie. He wears your ring. You love the way his oversized Camp Half-Blood sweatshirt smells like cedar and ozone. He never takes off the obsidian ring you gave him—even if it’s lowkey enchanted to keep spirits away. “You just want me safe,” he says, rolling it on his finger. “That’s enough for me.”

You two are the definition of the 'silent understanding' couple. You’ll catch each other’s eyes across a crowded camp event and know exactly what the other is thinking. Jason’s the only one who can read your “I’m overstimulated and need to leave” look; you’re the only one who can spot his “I need help but won’t ask” face. One raised brow from you, one tiny nod from him—that’s all it takes.

He gets along surprisingly well with your Underworld aesthetic. Jason didn’t think he’d be into bone rings and black lace until he saw them on you. Now? He’s helping you shop. “This one’s cute,” he says, holding up something dark and dramatic with zero shame. You arch an eyebrow. “Cute, huh?” “Terrifying. But cute.”

You kiss like it’s sacred. Not in a performative way—in an intentional way. Your hands on his face, his arms around your waist, his body leaning into yours like this is the only thing that matters right now. And when he murmurs your name between kisses? You melt. Every. Time.

He introduces you as “his favorite person.” It makes you blink. No dramatic “girlfriend,” no title-dropping “daughter of Pluto,” no possessive “mine.” Just: “This is my favorite person.” You tease him about it for weeks. You love him for it forever.

He has dreams about you before he admits he loves you. They’re always small: you sitting beside him, reaching for his hand, pulling him into warmth. When he wakes up, heart pounding, he knows. The next day, you’re sitting beside him like nothing’s changed. He says, quiet and breathless, “I think I’m in love with you.” And you just smile, like you’ve been waiting for him to catch up.

You show affection through actions—he shows it through words. You fix his armor. You brush hair from his face when he’s resting. You carry an extra water bottle just in case he forgets. Meanwhile, Jason is out here calling you “gorgeous” and “love” like it’s your name. He’ll hold your hand in public without thinking. Whisper soft affirmations when you’re lying together, half-asleep. “You make me feel like I can finally breathe.”

Your relationship is built on earnest trust. You let him see the parts of you that feel too heavy for anyone else. The darkness. The fear. The grief. And Jason? He listens. He stays. He doesn’t try to fix it—just holds your hand and says, “I’m right here."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

— ୨ৎㅤ˳ NSFW

He shouldn’t want you this much—and that makes it worse. You’re power wrapped in darkness. Ancient blood in your veins. The very opposite of everything he was trained to worship. And yet? Every time you touch him, every time you look at him like you could drag his soul to the Underworld… he gets harder than he’s ever been.

Jason is such a service sub and he doesn’t even realize it. He’ll start with his usual confidence—pressing you to the wall, whispering that he wants to take care of you—but the second you grab his jaw, tilt his chin up, and say “On your knees, storm boy,” he obeys like it’s instinct. Lightning cracks in the distance. His pupils blow wide. His knees hit the ground. How could he ever deny you something like that?

Your aura turns him on. The cold that follows you. The faint scent of cypress and pomegranate. The way your eyes glow like the River Styx when you get possessive. He acts unaffected—straight back, tight jaw, ever the soldier—but when you touch him? His breath hitches, and his cock twitches like it knows what's about to happen.

He lives to worship you. Slow kisses on your thighs. Hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to keep from floating away. He’ll eat you out like it’s sacred—eyes closed, lips soft, moaning into you like your pleasure is prayer.

He gets rough when you let him lose control. You tug his hair, whisper “Show me what that Roman training taught you,” and suddenly he snaps. He pins your wrists above your head, growling “I’ll give you everything.” And he does—thrusts punishing, kisses bruising, your name a mantra on his tongue.

He’s got a hand kink. Your rings. Your long, cold fingers wrapping around his throat. The way your thumb brushes his bottom lip before you push it into his mouth and say “Suck.” Jason whines. You find his hand in yours after the fight, during missions, before bed—and you know: this boy is yours.

Aftercare is holy. Jason craves your softness after the chaos. Your lips at his temple. Your hand on his chest, grounding him. He needs to feel your power in quiet ways—your arms around him while his body still trembles, your voice calling him baby like it’s the only thing that matters. His world narrows to you, every time.

He has recurring dreams about you in full god-mode. Crown of bone. Voice like velvet death. A trail of spirits at your heels as you beckon him to kneel. He wakes up panting, cock straining against his shorts, and the next time he sees you, he can’t meet your eyes—because, aww, he's too flustered for that.

He lets you mark him. Teeth at his neck. Fingernails down his back. A faint bite over his heart.

Jason adores the power struggle. One second he’s slamming you onto the bed with lightning crackling in his fingers—and the next, he’s begging beneath you, your hand in his hair, your voice a promise: “You’ll never leave me, will you?” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Never. I’m yours.”

You don’t overpower—you unnerve. There’s something about the way you watch him when he’s talking, or the way your hand drifts low on his back when you’re alone. It’s not forceful—it’s the slow, creeping certainty that you want him, that you’ll take your time getting there, and that when you do? He’ll be wrecked.

You make Jason work for it—but not in a teasing way. You’ll kiss him until he’s breathless, pull away, and just look at him like you’re not done yet—but he has to ask. And gods, he does. A soft “please” against your throat, his fingers tightening on your hips, his forehead pressed to yours while he breathes out, “I need you.”

You don’t need to be loud to be in control—you guide. Tilt his chin up with two fingers. Slide onto his lap with slow, deliberate confidence. Say “Stay still.” Not because you’re demanding it—because he wants to. And when he whimpers, when he bucks his hips despite himself? You just smirk and whisper, “I said still, baby.”

You like making him flustered. Not humiliated—just undone. You pull him close, mouth at his ear, and say the filthiest things in your softest voice. Tell him how good he makes you feel. How hard he is for you. How pretty he looks when he’s this desperate. He hides his face in your neck and moans like he’s praying.

You match his intensity—not with force, but focus. Eye contact that doesn’t break. Movements that are deliberate and intimate. Sex that feels like a shared language—one where you both speak in touch and tension and want. He’s used to being in control. With you? He surrenders because he chooses to.

You don’t shy away from mess, from need. You kiss him through the whines. Grip his hands when he grabs at you. You ride the moments when he’s too overwhelmed to think. And when he looks up at you with dazed, wide eyes like you’ve ruined him? You just say, “You can give me one more.” And he does.

[dragoneyelashart]

ᯓ★ the summer we lost • chapter 2

summary: it was supposed to be the perfect summer—just before college, you and your online friend "william" had planned out meeting this summer, but everything came to a screeching halt when your parents dropped the bomb that you had to get a job at a family friend’s dance studio. so instead of having fun, you’re stuck teaching kids who can barely stay on their feet, alongside a girl you can’t stand. now, while your friends are living their summer, you’re tangled up in a mess of pirouettes, bratty 7-year-olds, and a summer you’ll never get back. warnings: angst | mature language | sexual content | substance consumption

authors note: chapter twoo!! wc: 1.5k the summer we lost masterlist

after your first class, you walk into the break room, the buzz of the fan doing little to cut through the heat left clinging to your skin. your lunch isn’t anything fancy—just a sandwich you threw together in five minutes this morning—but honestly? it’s the highlight of your day so far. anything’s better than wrangling a room full of seven-year-olds who can’t keep their shoes on.

you flop onto the couch and pull out your phone, scrolling aimlessly. nothing from william. not yet. and the silence makes your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready for. this day was supposed to be yours. a beach day. a “laughing with her in the sun” kind of day. not... this.

the door creaks open and in walks luna, holding a plastic cup of iced coffee like it’s sacred. she drops onto the couch beside you with a smug little smile.

“soooo... how was class?” she asks, sipping casually—like she’s just waiting for the drama.

you throw your head back with a dramatic groan. “honestly? i’m considering faking my death.”

“already? it’s your first day,” luna says, bumping your shoulder. “they can’t be that bad.”

“they’re actual gremlins,” you deadpan. “i spent twenty minutes teaching them how to do a simple pirouette, and they spent the entire time spinning in random directions, knocking each other over, and calling it ‘modern dance.’”

luna snorts, nearly choking on her coffee. “okay, but that’s kind of iconic?”

“it wasn’t when one of them tried to do a cartwheel and landed on his face.”

“okay, yeah, no. that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” she says, still laughing. “but i bet you looked cute yelling at them.”

“cute?” you scoff, tossing a chip at her. “girl, i looked like i was about to have a nervous breakdown.”

“at least you’re getting fifty bucks an hour to suffer,” she says with a wink.

you sigh, nodding. “that part is nice.”

“sooo,” luna hums. “anything else happen?”

you eye her. “you sound suspiciously nosy.”

“i am suspiciously nosy,” she grins.

you laugh, and for a second, you forget how exhausted you are. it feels... nice. normal. like maybe this summer won’t be a total disaster.

until the door opens again—and you freeze.

billie’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp as ever. her gaze flicks to you, then to luna.

“luna, can i talk to you for a sec?” she asks, voice smooth but clipped.

“sure,” luna says, grabbing her iced coffee and standing. “you need anything from the front?”

“no.”

then her eyes cut back to you before she turns and walks out. no explanation. just... gone.

you barely suppress an eye-roll. luna gives you a look, but you don’t explain. what would you even say? sorry i think your boss might actually be the devil?

you sigh, focus shifting back to your sandwich—suddenly heavy in your hands.

your phone buzzes. finally.

5 unread texts

w: oh well mom: what time are you done today? can you pick up eggs? aaliyah: beach party tomorrow at 6 be there.

you swipe to open william's first.

w:oh well

your stomach dips.

short. flat. colder than usual. not mean—just distant. not her.

you wait for something else. a follow-up. a joke. anything soft.

nothing.

you stare at the screen a second longer before locking your phone and tossing it next to your bag. a knot tightens in your chest.

“oh well?”

you’re not sure if you’re mad or just disappointed. maybe both. maybe neither. maybe you’re just tired.

the door creaks open again. you glance up, expecting luna.

it’s billie.

alone.

she steps in like she owns the air around her. leans against the counter. unscrews the cap on a water bottle. her gaze drags across the room until it lands on you—and stays there.

you immediately look down at your sandwich like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. pretend your heart isn’t racing. pretend her voice doesn’t already live in the back of your head.

“so,” she says, voice light but sharp around the edges. “you always this quiet, or are you just scared of me?”

you blink. “what?”

she takes a sip, eyes never leaving yours. “i heard you with the kids. all sweet voice and fake cheer. now you’re acting mute.”

“i’m eating.”

“and i’m talking,” she fires back. “one of us is better at multitasking.”

your grip tightens on your sandwich.

she steps closer—not threatening, just deliberate. like she’s studying your reaction. “poor baby, you wanna join the kids class i think they speak more than you”

“i can talk,” you snap, heat rushing to your face.

“then do it,” she shrugs. “always so quiet around me? i don't bite baby”

you glare. “did you seriously come in here just to mess with me?”

“no,” she says flatly. “but watching you squirm’s a decent bonus.”

your mouth opens. you’re not even sure what to say. what did you do to piss her off?

“what is your problem?” you mutter.

she grins. it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“you.”

and with that, she walks out—like she didn’t just flip your entire nervous system upside down.

later that night you’re lying in bed, face smushed into your pillow, scrolling with one hand. your chest is still buzzing—billie’s voice echoing, her smirk burned into your brain, the weight of her gaze like it never left.

your phone lights up.

w: i think i have a crush on this girl and it’s ruining my life

you: ok drama who?? tell me everything rn

w: no bc it’s actually bad i can’t let her know i’ve literally been a bitch to her all day and now i feel crazy

you: wait wait wait you LIKE her and you’re being MEAN to her????

w: okay listen i panicked i didn’t mean to be mean she just makes me feel weird and i hate it like?? why is she cute. why is she funny i can’t think straight

you: girl that is so embarrassing for u

w: pls be so fr

you: okay but like why did that lowkey happen to me today too like my boss??? i swear she has it out for me she’s so rude for no reason

w: that sucks omg wait was it hot?? is she hot???

you: both. she's so fine it's unreal

w: STOP ok but what if she secretly likes you

you: she literally told me i was her problem

w: mmmmm enemies to lovers my fave

you: not when i’m the enemy

w: could be worse at least your crush doesn’t think you’re a bitch

you: i mean... mine might tbh

w: well idk what to say then read 11:48pm

you let the phone rest on your chest, screen still glowing faintly in the dark. your lips twitch into a small smile.

you were scared things had changed. that maybe this summer meant something different now. that her silence earlier was the start of some slow, quiet unraveling.

but lying here now, in the quiet, you feel that familiar warmth return—like it always does.

the 2 a.m. calls. the way she types in lowercase. the shared playlists, the inside jokes, the way she never has to say much for you to feel understood. you exhale. just a little softer than before.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @jayjaywetforbils @billieeilishismywifey @iamnicoke @st0nerlesb0 | send me an ask if you want to be added to my taglist!

[gelphielovebot]

— synchronized hearts

⋆.˚｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔ glinda and elphaba’s periods sync and they are left to take care of each other which leads to a closer connection and understanding of each other.

౨ৎ warnings: elphaba talking about her mothers death / not having a mother

౨ৎ a/n: my girls dating without actually dating cause they’re nervous little weirdo’s and just like taking care of each other. also exploring how elphie not having her mother affected her growth.

glinda upland was certainly not a morning person. she preferred to stay up late and run around like a nut case, completely annoying the oz out of elphaba, who preferred getting her rest earlier in the evening and being awake during a peaceful hour before everyone else awoke.

that being said, glinda still, somehow managed to always be up and ready for classes in the mornings. saturday’s and sunday’s were the days she’d rejuvenate by sleeping in until the late hours of the morning. but monday’s through friday’s she pushed through by 8am.

that’s why, when elphaba awoke, she was completely confused to see that the sun had already risen. her body always seemed to have an internal alarm clock, and that’s how she liked it. she looked over at the clock beside her bed, disoriented as ever. she squinted to read it, not yet having put her glasses on.

9:00am

the time their classes started. the time elphaba and glinda were supposed to be dressed. sitting in their seats. chatting as the large group of students rolled in.

yet, here they were. both still in their pajamas. still under their warm covers. the blonde girl on the other side of the room still dead asleep.

elphaba scurried out of bed. she wasn’t sure what to do first. she was still disoriented. confused on what was real and what was still dreamland. she looked at her friend, hearing her toss and turn but still failing to open her eyes.

wake glinda up, right!

“glinda,” elphaba said hurriedly, not caring to be soft with her tone as she typically would be towards her.

she didn’t budge. and as much as elphaba wanted to throw on her clothes and just run out of the door without her, she couldn’t do that. glinda was failing that class to begin with and she couldn’t dig a deeper hole. either way, glinda always seemed to charm her way out of either being late or missing class and elphaba wasn’t sure that she herself would be able to do that without the blonde girl.

she walked over to glinda’s bed. she wasn’t sure she had ever seen the girl be this dead to the world before. she shook her slightly, calling out her name again. this seemed to stir her enough to slightly gain consciousness.

glinda groaned. low and throaty. elphaba could’ve mistaken it for the sound of a wounded animal's lament. glinda rolled her body towards elphaba. she had yet to open her eyes, sleeping just like princess aurora under a spell. elphaba wanted to be the one to kiss her awake.

“it’s nine in the morning, we are way past late. get up!” elphaba hadn’t said it quite harshly, but her tone remained stern enough to cause glinda to finally flutter her eyes fully open.

when she saw her roommate finally awake, she just nearly turned around to throw on whatever she could find that wasn’t pajama’s, however to her dismay, glinda gripped her wrist before she could walk away.

“no, elphie. i’m dying!” she exclaimed, throwing her head back as to exaggerate herself.

elphaba huffed, attempting to tug her hand away but somehow not being able to get free of the shackles of glinda.

“right. well, we really don’t have time for dramatics, glinda. can you let me go?” she said in complete annoyance. yes, if glinda was truly dying this would be a totally different reaction, however, glinda seemed to say that over simply everything.

“no, elphie,” she whined again, “i’m — owie — truly dying.” she squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her knees to her chest as she laid on her side. her grip on elphaba got tighter, but it seemed like it was out of pure pain, elphaba noticed.

the green witch sighed. they were already late to class. and as much as she wanted to sprint out that door in just her nightwear at this point, they were already missing, so what harm would a minute more cause?

“alright. why are you dying?” elphaba sat at the end of glinda’s bed. glinda let go of her hold and sat up so she could look at elphaba. elphie was truly thrilled to hear whatever minimal issue glinda was facing only a minute after she woke up.

“i started my period last night, elphie. i really don’t want to get out of bed. it hurt’s,” the blonde girl whined, chewing on her bottom lip, hard enough that she tasted blood.

elphaba’s face softened from a sarcastic smirk to a gentle, sympathetic smile. her cheeks even burned slightly at the fact that glinda was so transparent about a taboo subject. elphaba never had been that way. it wasn’t tolerated in her household. by her father.

“oh,” elphaba said, quiet enough that glinda had hardly heard it, “it’s that bad?”

glinda hummed and nodded. “i always seem to oversleep when i get it cause im overtired. my body’s using all my energy to keep me in pain instead,” she informed, rolling her eyes at the thought of her body doing that to her, “though, how’d elphaba thropp oversleep?” glinda said it teasingly considering her track record.

“that makes sense,” elphaba nodded, continuing, “i don’t know. i guess, just worn out with all of miss morrible’s exams.”

glinda shot her a sympathetic look over the fact that miss morrible was overworking her. she reached out and held onto her soft green hand. “can you stay with me today? in here? i mean, we’re already late so might as well.”

elphaba thought about it, but it didn’t take much thinking. it seemed as if though her heart spoke before her mind got a chance to even ponder it for a second longer. her heart that clandestinely loved glinda and wanted to care for her through anything.

“yes.” it was simple, and sounded like a dog following their leaders command. she hated that she submitted to her so easily. how her compliance slipped out like butter as if it was sitting on her tongue and waiting to be spit out.

but then glinda smiled, and the morning sunlight made her brown eyes glimmer. elphaba forgot all about the fact that she had permission to to not sit here and surrender beneath her gaze.

she shook the thoughts out of her head and stood up, “i’m going to get dressed. do you need anything?”

elphaba was walking towards her own side of the bed, giving glinda room to answer. she hadn’t by the time elphaba made it to her closet. she was about to turn around unanswered, but then glinda spoke.

“um, elphie, i think i know why you slept in too.”

“what?” elphaba responded, truly confused. when she saw glinda’s face, glinda was staring at her behind. and so, she twisted her body in the mirror in order see what the fuss was about. her eyes widened in embarrassment and shock when she saw.

she had been so wrapped up in being late and caring for glinda that she failed to realize the pain in her abdomen or see the the blood stain on her nightgown. she cursed under her breath. elphaba hardly ever curses.

“elphie! it’s okay!” glinda said sweetly, noticing the distress written on her face. elphaba hurriedly walked towards the bathroom, ignoring glinda’s calls for her, “elphie!”

she eventually gave up when she heard the lock on the restroom door. she decided it would be best to give elphaba some space. she typically enjoyed silence and alone time whenever something distressed her. glinda, being the observer towards only elphaba, came to realize that quite quickly.

glinda sat up in the same position on her bed with her kneels curled to chest until elphie finally came back into the room with a fresh pair of clothes. she watched intently as the green girl made way to her own bed. she could tell by elphaba’s lack of poise and her silence that she was upset.

when she threw herself back into bed, glinda knew the girl must truly be in saddened over this. she couldn’t handle another moment of her elphie being upset.

finally, glinda stood out of bed. she was slightly hunched over because her back was far too sore to stand straight and her tummy felt like it was being stabbed with a million tiny knives. she trudged over to elphaba’s side of the room, her steps loud and careless.

elphaba could hear her roommates footsteps get closer and closer but she couldn’t bother to address it, she just let it happen. she felt so silly and embarrassed. she felt like she wanted to start sobbing, but that would make her look like an even bigger mess, she thought.

glinda unsolicitedly sat on the edge of elphaba’s bed. she often times had no trouble inviting herself into her roommates personal space. elphaba, at first, thought it was entitlement. she’s come to learn that it’s simply just clinginess. she’s also come to learn that she doesn’t dislike it as much as she should.

“elphieee,” glinda said frolicsomley, dragging her name out. she placed her hand on elphaba’s hip, fiddling with the fabric of her darker clothing choice. the green witch took a moment too long to respond and so glinda made another attempt to win over her attention. she must be more important than the wall elphaba’s blankly staring at. “elphieee. please talk to me. it’s okay, it’s just me.”

the way she said it. the way her voice got lower when she let her know it’s just her. goodness, elphaba could’ve melted on the spot. she swore she was a puddle with the way her cheeks burned.

finally, elphaba turned her body around so she was facing her roommate. glinda greeted her with a soft gentle smile, and as much as it warmed her heart, she couldn’t find the energy in her to reciprocate it.

“oh, elphie. are you upset? you don’t have to be.” glinda leaned forward, grabbing both soft green hands in her own.

“i’m not upset. not with you. i’m just…” she trailed off, not entirely understanding her own emotions. she often times found it difficult to identify what she was feeling.

“emotional?” glinda finished for her.

elphaba nodded, “emotional, tired, embarrassed.”

glinda frowned. she squeezed elphaba’s hands a little tighter and began rubbing her thumb against her knuckles to act as some sort of comfort in this trying moment.

“you don’t have to be embarrassed, my sweet. happens to all of us.” truly, glinda had been in such an open environment her whole life that she hadn’t thought much about it. she was genuinely puzzled over the fact that elphaba was so distressed over it. “you wanna know what i do when i feel like this?”

elphaba wasn’t sure whether she wanted to or not. typically, glinda has the most wildest ideas that could accidentally lead to someone -herself- getting hurt. she simply nodded because glinda would’ve told her anyways.

“chocolate,” the blonde says, her pearly whites on display as she smiled brightly.

“chocolate?”

“mhm. chocolate’s the cure for being on your period,” glinda said giddily. elphaba knows glinda has a strong sweet teeth. matter of factly, it’s one of the ways she knows to cheer her up when she’s upset. she was unaware that it helps with more than sadness. “momsie got me a big box of chocolates when i got my first period so now i always have a stash on me every month. not sure why it helps but my tummy and mood always feels better.”

glinda was about to stand back up to grab her chocolates to share between the two of them. her feet touched the ground right as a tear rolled down elphaba’s face. she tried so hard to hold it in, but she felt a painful lump in her throat the more she tried and so much tears pooled in her eyes that there was no more room for them to sit there.

“oh no, elphie?” glinda lips turned downwards and she placed a hand on her emerald cheek. it was an instinct now to wipe away her tears. she felt like it was her own fault; something she must’ve said. the only time glinda had doubt in her wording was around elphaba. and that was because she was the first person that she wanted her words to hold weight towards. “did i say something wrong?”

glinda gave elphaba some beats of silence to compose herself. she sniffled. glinda, too, wanted to cry. at the thought of being the cause of her tears, at seeing elphaba so upset.

“no it’s just…” elphaba trailed off. her eyes unfocused themselves from glinda to her lap. glinda’s hand fell from elphaba’s face but landed right on her hands again to hold them.

elphaba couldn’t find the courage to tell glinda why she was upset. it wasn’t glinda’s fault, and she knows she would think it was if she told her. but glinda persisted, “you can tell me anything.”

“well my mom she wasn’t around…”

oh.

“oh,” glinda said quietly, sympathetically. she often forgot about elphaba’s parents as she doesn’t ever bring them up herself. however, whenever she gets reminded of elphaba’s father, rage fills her.

“i just wish she was around for things.”

glinda couldn’t ever understand what elphaba was going through, but she certainly could sympathize and do everything she could to write the rest of her life as a perfect fairytale.

“i’m sorry,” glinda says sadly. she seems to be more upset than elphaba herself. glinda shows her emotions so strongly and when it comes to elphaba, it’s an entirely different level. “you didn’t deserve that childhood.”

“well,” she says quietly and looks down at her lap, at the clash of green and pale hands holding onto each other. “i must give dulcibear credit. she did what she could, though, she could only do so much.”

“i’m so glad you had her in your life,” glinda squeezes her hand. once, then twice, then once more. “i must meet her soon.” elphaba looks up at glinda and giggles at the blonde girl who is giving her a quite serious, yet silly face. she’d love to meet the one who truly raised her. elphaba turned out far too kind to be her fathers daughter. she knew it was dulcibear who made her who she was.

“yes, soon. hopefully,” elphaba confirms, and then her face, in the slightest, contorts into a pained expression. she tried to supress it, it was quite obvious, however glinda was incredibly good at studying people. well, studying elphaba was her best subject.

“oh, elphie, what hurts?” glinda asks concerning. she moves closer to her roommate, scanning her body as if though the pain would visibly show up.

“i’m,” elphaba breathes through the painful throb in her abdomen that ached harder for a moment, “i’m fine, glinda, honestly.”

glinda completely ignores elphaba’s attempt to shut down and invalidate her own pain. she gets up and digs through a drawer on her own side of the room. when she finally finds what she had been search for, she kicks the drawer shut with her foot and comes back over to elphaba’s bed with her hands full.

“okay scoot,” the blonde girl said. elphaba moved her body to the side, propping her back up against the headboard. glinda got under the covers with her, sitting in the same position as her roommate. she has the box of chocolates she had previously been going on about and something else hidden in the palm of her hand.

“take this. it’ll make the pain calm down. i took one while you were off in the showers.” glinda reveals the mystery item in her hand. a small little…pill or supplement looking thing. elphaba was unsure. she wasn’t totally convinced on taking something random like that from someone. but it was also glinda. glinda; the one girl she can completely turn her entire strong, cold personality off for.

“i’m not sure about it,” elphaba says hesitantly. her eyes nearly cross as she stares at the tiny pill between glinda’s fingertips.

“it’s okay, it’s just medicine. i’d never poison you, silly,” elphaba goes to grab the pill from her, however, glinda pops it in elphie’s mouth instead. glinda always seemed to care for elphaba as though she wasn’t able to function without her. it’s something elphaba would typically hate with anyone else hence her being quite independent, however, she secretly quite liked when glinda did it.

elphaba swallows it with the glass of water glinda provided her with, and then allows it to do its thing. weirdly enough, she slightly feels the relieving effects as soon as it slides down her throat.

glinda then placed the box of chocolates on her lap. it seemed rather too fancy for a sweet treat. the box had golden writing with a red ribbon around the box. glinda opened it and took out a darker colored square piece.

“here, try this,” glinda said. elphaba grabbed it from her and took a bite. she could instantly tell that the sweetly goodness was dark chocolate with a caramel filling. elphaba didn’t get much sweets growing up. this, matter of factly, might’ve been only around the third time in her life that she’s had chocolate. she realized, just then, that she may have a bigger sweet tooth than she thought.

“good, right?” glinda asks as she intently studies her face to see how she feels about it. she pops one of the chocolates in her own mouth as she does so. elphaba nods along to her question, licking any remnants off her lips.

glinda truly tried to ignore the way her tongue licked her plump green lips.

she truly tried.

the girls continued on with deluging into the chocolates. playings silly games of guessing what the flavor would be, or finishing each others piece when wanting to show the other just how good it was.

they got to a point where they felt nauseous on chocolate and called it quits. they both laid their heads back on the headboard, staring up at the ceiling silently until glinda broke the comforting silence.

“does your tummy still hurt,” glinda asks, and before elphaba could answer, she speaks up again, “mine does. i think the medicine is wearing off.”

“yes,” elphaba says honestly. for the first time, she admitted that she isn’t feeling one hundred percent. it truly catches glinda off guard that she completely turns her head to look at her friend.

“elphie, you admitted that you don’t feel good,” glinda points out. elphaba can’t seem to decipher whether that’s a good thing or not. either way, she feels her heart rate slightly pick up as she thinks about it. “i’m so proud of you, elphie.”

glinda smiles wide, and elphaba only returns her with an unsure half smile. it’s a strange feeling that she’s unable to explain. a good yet unfamiliar one. she doesn’t know that anybody has ever been proud of her. glinda then moves her body closer to elphaba, enough that she can lean over and kiss her cheek.

well, when elphaba was nearly falling asleep one night as she studied for an exam, glinda had done that exact thing. however, this time, elphaba was fully awake and alert. glinda didn’t think much of it, but elphaba felt an intense feeling of euphoria in her heart.

“come here,” glinda says sweetly and extends her arms out. elphaba, to her own suprise, lets herself fall right into them.

one of glinda’s hands slide in between their bodies to reach the part of elphaba’s stomach that was pained. elphaba’s tummy tensed, expecting the feeling of glinda’s hands to be coldness that would inflict a worsen pain. instead, she felt a warm pressure against the pain. a relieving feeling that made all the muscles relax.

“how’d you learn to do that?” elphaba asks quietly. her voice is brittle and weak.

“do what?”

“your hands aren’t ever that warm,” she’d be the only one to know that. the only one who’d remember something like that. “it actually feels unnatural. good, but unnatural.”

“i’ve been working hard, believe it or not,” glinda admits proudly. she wasn’t very successful in many spells, but this simple one seemed to do the trick. she wants to be as good as elphaba. not better than her, though. for once, selflessly, she wants elphaba to exceed further than her in the thing she’s always wanted most.

“you’re doing amazing. i’m proud of you too,” it feels much easier to give her the compliment rather than receive it. but either way, it both feels amazing. “but what about you? you don’t feel very well either.”

“i’m okay. i wanna take care of you.” if you’d had told elphaba that the same glinda from a couple months ago said that to her, she wouldn’t believe it. glinda had truly become an entirely different person for the better as she’s loved elphaba.

despite glinda’s protest, elphaba begins to gently rub pressure into glinda’s lower back. the blonde nearly moans at the soothing sensation that feels better than any medicine could give her.

the dorm room falls silent. but not for long. glinda often struggles to not break the silence. but elphaba’s glad she does. as much as she denied it at first; she loves hearing her honeyed voice.

“elphie, you know i’ll always be here to take care of you now,” glinda says it so sweetly, the words feeling like butter melting on her tongue. elphaba doesn’t speak for a moment, because she can sense that there’s something else lingering in the air. “i love you, elphie.”

there it is.

“i love you too, glinda.”

[leejenowrld]

im curious of the scenes of the other girls fantasy boy drafts ... espc jaemin's and karina's! will you please be able to share each of them? thank you!

jaemin + karina —

she laughs at one of his jokes and places her glass down, the rim stained red where her lipstick smudged, her wrist brushing his knee like it didn’t mean anything. and maybe it didn’t, maybe that’s the problem — maybe everything she does is performative until someone calls her on it. but tonight, for whatever reason, she doesn't want to perform. not really. and yet, when his gaze lingers too long on the gloss still glinting on her lips, her fingers reach out to his collar and tug, soft, like she's testing the water.

“you know you could at least pretend to flirt back,” she murmurs, low, teasing, but there’s a bite to it too, like she’s already preparing to be rejected.

he’s quiet, unreadable. only the faintest curve of his mouth, more exhale than smile. “wasn’t aware this was flirting,” he says, and it sounds so innocent — except it isn’t.

she narrows her eyes. “i picked your name out of the damn hat, didn’t i?”

“i don’t ever look forward to this night, i don’t care how i end up with.”

“please,” she snorts. “every guy on campus wants me. including you. she says it with that same airy confidence she always has — but when she looks at him, there’s something tense in her jaw, like she needs him to say it too. like she’s been waiting. just once. for someone like him to want her back in a way that feels real.

he stares at her. for a moment too long. and then, just like that, his hand is on her waist, his fingers skimming bare skin, warm and steady. she leans in. so does he. it starts slower than expected — no rush, no fireworks. just the kind of kiss that sinks its teeth into you gradually, until you’re not sure where your breath ends and his begins. her hands are in his hair, her mouth open under his, soft gasps slipping out as he pulls her closer. he kisses like he’s memorising something he’ll forget in the morning. like he doesn’t want to, but he is. her thigh slides over his lap, their bodies pressing too close, too fast, and when she tries to tilt her hips forward, he grabs her wrist. gently. halting her.

“karina,” he whispers, lips still brushing hers. “don’t.”

she stills. “why not?”

he takes a breath. one hand cupping her cheek now, thumb dragging slow across her jaw. “you’re beautiful. fuck, you’re beautiful. but this... it’s not what you need.”

she blinks. stunned. “you don’t want me?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“then what are you saying?”

he swallows hard. “i’m saying... you shouldn’t always give yourself away like this. not when you deserve to be wanted properly. not just taken.”

the silence sits between them like a bruise. she doesn’t know what to say. no one talks to her like that. not when they’re alone, not when her dress is slipping off her shoulder, not when she’s straddling them in a dark room with the music thumping underfoot. and yet. she doesn’t move. he kisses her forehead — just once. and then he’s pulling away, grabbing his hoodie from beside the bed and tossing it over her lap without a word.

“fine,” she says, quieter now, curling her legs under herself as he sinks back against the headboard. “then let’s talk.”

he raises an eyebrow, amused. “talk?”

“yeah. you said that’s what i need, right? so give me something worth listening to.”

he smiles. softer now. “alright.”

before either of them realised it, they’d been lying side by side on his bed for hours, both staring up at the cracked white ceiling like it had answers neither of them could find in each other. the party downstairs had dulled into distant murmurs, faint bass still pulsing through the floorboards like a second heartbeat neither of them were paying attention to anymore. her makeup had long since faded, smudged around the edges of her eyes, and jaemin’s hoodie was slung over her bare thighs now, her dress bunched up around her waist, forgotten. they weren’t touching, not really — just close enough that the heat from his shoulder brushed hers when he turned his head to look at her, his eyes soft in a way most people didn’t get to see.

“how long have we been here?” she asked, her voice a quiet murmur, like she didn’t want to break the spell.

he blinked. “dunno. a while.”

“you talk in your sleep, you know,” she teased, but it was light, barely there. “said something about… cookies?”

he laughed, low in his throat. “probably. one of my patients brought me a whole tin last week. said they were magic.”

“were they?”

“they tasted like glue,” he grinned. “but she was five and proud, so i told her they saved my life.”

karina smiled, her lips barely twitching. “you’re good with kids.”

he shifted slightly, turning onto his side so he could see her better. “i hope so. you want me to tell you about her?”

she nodded, surprising herself.

“she was five. post-op. had a pretty rough time coming out of surgery — anxiety, nightmares, wouldn’t talk to anyone. wouldn’t let go of my hand for hours. her mum had to leave for a bit and she just—held on, wouldn’t sleep unless i stayed. so i stayed. missed dinner. sat there until she knocked out, drooling all over my wrist,” he smiled faintly, like the memory was both heavy and tender. “i dunno. it’s hard. seeing how small they are. watching them fight so hard. but it’s worth it. even when it’s just one more day of less pain.”

karina didn’t say anything right away. her eyes were focused on the ceiling again, the thin gold bracelet on her wrist catching the glow of the streetlight through the window.

“i want to tell you about the internship i had in new york” she said eventually.

“go on,” he prompted, gentle.

“new york is where dreams come true,” she began, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “volte studios. i shadowed under the creative director for six weeks. twelve-hour days, back-to-back campaigns, fittings that ran till midnight. the showroom floor was freezing, heels hurt like hell, models cried behind the scenes… but i loved it. all of it. even the bullshit. it felt like everything i’d ever wanted.”

“but?”

she turned her head toward him, their eyes meeting. “but it made me realise how much of that world is just… performance. smoke and mirrors. we polish people until they shine, but it’s all artificial. you wouldn’t believe how many tears get sewn into seams.”

he watched her for a second, brows drawn. “and you still loved it?”

“yeah,” she said, softer now. “because for all of that… there were moments. little ones. like watching a girl try on a dress and see herself for the first time. or sitting in on pitch meetings and realising my opinion could actually change the direction of a campaign. i want more of that. i wanna build something real. not just pretty.”

he reached up to scratch his jaw, exhaling slowly. “then do it.”

she huffed. “it’s not that easy.”

“maybe not. but you’re karina.” his voice dropped a little, something more grounded, sincere. “the girl everyone watches. the girl people follow because they know she’s already two steps ahead.”

she looked away, almost embarrassed by how good it felt to hear it from him. a pause stretched between them. quiet, but not awkward. then he added, almost too softly, “you ever think you’re too busy being what everyone wants… to figure out what you want?”

karina didn’t answer. she didn’t need to. he could see it in the way her lips pressed into a tight line, in the way her hand fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie like she suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“it’s exhausting, isn’t it?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “trying to be seen, while keeping so much of yourself hidden.”

she turned to look at him. “you get that?”

“more than i want to admit.”

they fell into silence again, but this time it felt warmer, heavier. she shifted, curling toward him slightly, her head closer to his shoulder now, though neither of them said anything about it. his breath was steady. hers matched it, unintentionally.

“jaemin?” she asked after a while.

“yeah?”

“do you think… people like us ever really stop performing?”

he smiled, eyes closing for a beat. “maybe not. but i think sometimes… you find someone who sees through it. and maybe that’s enough.”

and they stayed like that. sharing stories. dumb ones. vulnerable ones. he told her about the kid who thought stethoscopes could read minds. she told him about the time a model passed out during a fitting and she had to keep everyone calm while hiding a panic attack. they talked about their families. their fears. what scared them more than failure. they talked about what they wanted next — not in five years, not on paper, but in the secret parts of themselves they barely ever said out loud.

and somewhere, between his quiet laughter and her murmured confessions, between the shape of his silhouette in the dark and the comfort of her voice saying his name, something shifted. no kisses. no labels. no morning-after regret. just two people who were supposed to be strangers for an hour, lying side by side, no space left between them now.

and maybe, for one night, that was enough.

mark and areum —

areum leans in close, voice low and thick against his ear, “you gonna make me beg for it again, or are you finally gonna fuck me like you missed me?” mark doesn’t flinch — but his jaw tenses, eyes darken, and for a second he forgets where they are. she doesn’t move back. just stays right there, mouth a breath away from his skin, and that’s all it takes. he looks at her, really looks at her, like she’s the only goddamn thing in the room. his hand finds hers immediately, tight, warm, and without a word he’s moving — not rushed, not showy, just deliberate, following her through the crowd like gravity. like whatever this is between them doesn’t need permission. only proximity. only a door to close behind them.

they slip upstairs, past the crowd, past the noise, until they find one of the spare guest rooms in jeno’s house. the second the door shuts, the tension snaps. he backs her into the wall, breath hitching as she yanks at his collar, nails sliding under fabric. his mouth crashes to hers like it’s been waiting all fucking year. her legs wrap around his waist before he even lifts her, and when he does, she exhales like she’s home.

“you still mad at me?” she whispers, dragging her lips down his jaw.

“always,” he mutters, grinding into her, “you make me fucking insane.”

they don’t make it to the bed. not at first. he lays her across the dresser, knocks a candle to the floor, doesn’t care. her skirt’s pushed up, her underwear shoved aside, and he eats her out like he never forgot how — two fingers curling deep, tongue flat and relentless, groaning against her when her thighs clamp around his head.

“fuck—mark,” she gasps, “you’re—god, don’t stop—”

he doesn’t. not until she’s shaking, nails clawing into the wood, legs trembling as he finally lifts his head, lips soaked, eyes dark.

they fuck on the bed after. her back arches off the mattress as he sinks into her, slow and deep, kissing her like he’s starved for it. she moans into his mouth, pulls at his shirt until he yanks it off, her hands skating down his abs, trailing the lines she still remembers like scripture. it’s rough. it’s slow. it’s desperate. it’s all of it.

you’re lying across the guest bed in jeno’s house, bare legs tangled with mark’s under the borrowed sheets, moonlight slipping through the half-shut blinds and streaking the room in soft silver. he’s on his back, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting loosely on your hip, and you’re tucked into his side like you never left. “you know i’ve been thinking about graduation way too much,” you say quietly, dragging your fingertip along his sternum. “it’s like… real life is starting and i’m scared it won’t feel like mine.” mark hums deep in his chest, the kind of sound you feel against your cheek more than you hear. “i get that. it’s all been basketball and injuries and late-night film sessions for so long, i don’t even know who i am without a team.” you shift up to look at him, chin on his chest. “you’re still mark. you’re more than that jersey.” he exhales, fingers curling just slightly around your waist. “yeah? even if i don’t get drafted?”

“especially if you don’t,” you whisper, and kiss the corner of his mouth.

he pulls you closer after that, turning so you’re half on top of him now, his hand skimming down your thigh as your lips brush again, this time slower, longer, the kind of kiss that doesn’t rush to go anywhere. “what about you?” he murmurs into your mouth. “what’s next for my favourite photographer?” you laugh against him, soft and a little breathless. “i wanna travel. shoot weddings. shoot love in places no one expects it. maybe start a little studio somewhere—just mine.” he smiles, lips grazing your jaw now, “you will. you’re gonna do everything you said. you always do.” your fingers find his curls, toying with them gently. “you’d come with me, right? even if it’s across the world?”

“you know i’d follow you anywhere.”

the kiss that follows is slow and heavy, warm with all the things you haven’t said yet. his hands are gentle but sure, sliding up your spine, holding you close like the thought of letting go isn’t something he’ll entertain tonight. “fuck,” he mutters into your neck, “you always make me soft at the worst times.” you grin, breath catching as his lips trace your collarbone. “you weren’t so soft twenty minutes ago.” he chuckles, and it rumbles through you, grounding you to this bed, this night, this boy you’re not supposed to want anymore. “i’m never soft for anyone but you.” and you don’t say anything to that. you just kiss him again, like you’re trying to remember every detail before time runs out.

the others aren’t as interesting to write scenes of so here’s bullet points of what chenle + ningning, shotaro + ryujin, san + nahyun got up too

chenle + ningning

• started off with a shared bottle of wine, fake-deep convos and constant teasing, feet tangled under the table while everyone else got picked

• snuck out after thirty minutes, no one noticed — they were already halfway across town in his car, his hand on her thigh the whole ride

• ended up parked at a secluded cliffside view, tailgate wide open, stars overhead, her dress pushed up while she rode him slow, moaning into his ear that she’s missed this

• she called him a “lover boy” while grinding on him and he couldn’t even deny it, just let her take what she wanted

• drove back, still tipsy, and snuck into the outdoor hot tub at jeno’s place — stripped down, got in, and stayed till their fingers pruned

• lots of kisses underwater, whispered “do you remember that time in first year?” kind of nostalgia, limbs wrapped around each other like they had all the time in the world

• finished the night tangled in one towel, her legs around his waist, “quiet, baby, the walls are thin” — he says it, but he doesn’t stop her either

shotaro + ryujin (i know she didn’t have him in the fic cos he’s not in the cheer team but she spent the night with him so shush)

• dirty dancing in the middle of the living room, crowd cheering, his hands on her ass, her tongue in his mouth — they didn’t even wait for the name draw

• ended up in jeno’s second guest room, lights still flickering from the party downstairs, music thumping through the walls while he fucked her against the mirror

• she kept laughing in his ear every time the bed creaked — “think they can hear us?” — and he’d just groan and thrust harder

• rough, high-energy, teeth on skin, fingernails raking down his back, “harder, tora, fuck, don’t stop”

• water break turned into another round on the floor, her thighs trembling, his mouth between her legs like he was starving

• whispered a “you’re so fucking hot when you boss me around” and she laughed right before flipping him over and riding him into the sheets

• fell asleep wrapped up in each other, her leg thrown over his waist, their skin still sticky and flushed, breath syncing up like muscle memory

san + nahyun

• nahyun was pissed she didn’t get paired with jeno and made sure everyone knew — passive aggressive all night, eyeing you from across the room

• dragged san off with a scowl, muttering shit about how “jeno used to look at me like that” and san just rolled his eyes

• tried to get something going in jeno’s downstairs bathroom, but she was too busy complaining about how “weirdly close” you and jeno seemed

• san, already frustrated, snapped mid-makeout: “i can’t believe my original draft was y/n” — nahyun froze, didn’t realise that san knew.

• then he made it worse: “she’s hotter. better in bed. probably still moans prettier than you ever could.”

• sex was horrendous. dry. quiet. awkward. she tried to dirty talk but it came out cringe. he called it quits halfway through.

• pulled out and muttered “this isn’t doing anything for me” while pulling his pants back up

• left her alone in the room and went to smoke outside — spent the rest of the night thinking about you, palms pressed to his temples like he fucked up the draft of his life

bonus —

areum’s basket for mark: it’s sharp, intentional, but full of hidden softness—just like her.

a half-empty bottle of their shared cologne, the one she always used to steal spritzes of before his games. it’s hers now, she says, but she wants him to smell like her again.

a secondhand poetry book with dog-eared pages, underlined lines, and one sticky note between them: “this one made me think of you. don't let your heart go quiet.”

a mixtape on a USB, labelled “it’s not a love letter (but it kind of is)” — mostly mellow indie tracks, the kind she used to hum while editing, plus one voicemail at the end: her laughing, then silence, then: “i miss you, idiot.”

a packet of throat lozenges — because he always loses his voice yelling on court and she still remembers his favourite flavour

a disposable camera — with the first picture already taken: a blurry hotel mirror selfie of her in his old jersey

a gold pen — “for your game notes. or lyrics. or letters you won’t send.”

a single plum, slightly bruised, with no explanation — but he’ll get it

karina’s basket for jaemin: glossy on the outside, chaotic and desperate under the glitter — so very karina.

a black silk blindfold — no note, just the implication

a pair of cufflinks shaped like chess pieces — king and queen — “we could’ve ruled something, you know.”

a mini bottle of hennessy and two shot glasses — one cracked

a copy of his own notes from their shared anatomy class, graffitied with her handwriting: circles around the word “heart”, question marks, lipstick kisses on the margins

a polaroid of herself in lingerie, back arched on his desk chair, with “your loss” written across the bottom

a silver ring that clearly doesn’t belong to her — it’s one he lost months ago during finals week, and she never told him she found it

a single cigarette, tucked into a matchbook from their college bar, the one she swore she never liked but was always sitting in when he walked in

[mossyscavern]

What’s this… christmas, you speak of?

_____________________

“AAGH! YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING-!”

Rumble and frenzy ran straight past the other decepticons as the two chuckled at their recent activity, a bit behind them chasing the two mini cassettes is a very upset starscream.

The two turned a corner to the computer room and ducked behind both mechs that’s present in the room. “Best. Prank. Ever!” Frenzy whisper shouts.

Turning to his twin, confused as to why he’s so quiet and looking up, he followed his gaze and… yeah now he sees why.

Both megatron and Soundwave both stares down at the mini cons, optic ridges arched at the two. “And who pray tell have you two ‘pranked’ this time?” Megatron asked, crossing his servos at the two identical bots.

“Rumble, frenzy: speak the truth.” Soundwave warned, standing threateningly as one does. “Uh… we’ve both pranked-.”

“Where did those tin can’s go?!” Starscream asked, stomping in. The seeker is covered in silver and gold glitter wearing a Santa hat with antlers and a red nose on him.

“Starscream, late as alway-.” megatron stopped, now seeing the mess rumble and frenzy caused this time. “You look ridiculous… it’s a good look on you.” Megatron comments. “.. frag you too! Soundwave.”

“Starscream: can’t be taken seriously, take it off.” The mech states, monotone almost falters.

“Can’t, it’s glued on-. Never mind that! Where’s rumble and frenzy?!” Starscream asks, tapping his ped impatiently. “Direction: went that way when you stormed in here.” Soundwave says, pointing.

“Yeah sure, that’s what they want me to think... They’re probably still in my birth room!” He shouts, running out of the room and back to the way he came. Leaving the four bots to question his decision.

“… I can’t believe he did that.” Rumble finally spoke. “Yeah. And he was a scientific explorer.. mech.. thing.” Frenzy responded, trying to find a word for it.

“Back to what we’re doing, why does starscream look like part of his designation?” Megatron asked, turning towards the troublemaking duo. “Just some fun Christmas pranks.” Rumble answers. “We figured out glitter is hard to get rid of, so we made a glitter bomb in his wash racks.” Frenzy answers also.

“The hat and nose is just for fun, plus a way to get screamer into the wash racks in the first place.” Rumble finishes with a shrug followed by a huge run with no regrets.

“What’s this… Christmas, you speak of?”

Megatron asks, intrigued by the sound of this ‘Christmas’ the twins speak highly of. If it’s a way to destroy the auto bot than it shall-.

“Christmas: a bonding holiday about joy, family, friends, laughter and the celebration of birth of a human being, followed by two other holidays known as Hanukkah and Yule.” Soundwave answers.

‘Oh… just a simple holiday these creatures celebrate.’ Megatron thought. “I see… and it involves your endeavours why?” Megatron asked, now noticing the saddened look the two provides.

“We actually want to go snowball fighting, but because we’ve been so busy finding new ways to get energon we never had time for a proper day off.” Rumble admits. “Yeah, the auto bots get that type of time, why not us?”

Megatron pondered. It is true, all they’ve been doing the whole time was trying to find other sources of energy, but it’s crucial for their survival they need it to sustain themselves…

but they never exactly had a proper day off… it makes sense with rumble, frenzy and most of the decepticons to be antsy.

“… Soundwave, take the day off.. let them have some well deserved fun.”

“Affirmative.” Soundwave nodded as both frenzy and rumble, looked to each other and celebrated when Soundwave nodded to them both. “Alright! Should we do an igloo or snowball fight first?” Frenzy asks.

“I’m thinking igloo, snowmen building, snow angels and then a snowball fight, gotta go for calm before the storm frenz.” Rumble says, mischief in his visor.

Before Soundwave follows the walking pair megatron told Soundwave to announce the rest of the decepticon’s to post pone their recent plans and to take the day off. When they finally left megatron contemplates.

Megatron always wanted a family… shocking, he knows.

But he’s seen how family’s would get together and eat, spend time with their sparklings and conjunx, even celebrate with extended families as well. And it just… makes his spark feel lighter, especially with how heavy it is.

Maybe in another life he has a family… “Heh, impossible.’ Megatron thought, shaking his helm, before his optics land on the computer, seeing the yellow mini bot make a snowman.

For some strange reason megatron always feels… proud at the things the minibots is doing, even some of the little things.

It’s odd… but he doesn’t hate it, not one bit.

_____________________

… this was done in the last minute.

Not really since… well.. it took some time.. I just wanted to write g1 decepticons featuring megatron first hearing about Christmas.

Part of it was base off one of @yourplaywright’s stories on ao3 cause dang it! I did not realise they did one of my favourite g1 stories on there too until I looked again.

Plus it’s Christmas/yule, I wanna write it plus g1 of transformers cause why not? And… I do what I want..

My gift to you guys. Wholesome decepticon moments… cause yes.

[akkivee]

one of the craziest bat bars like actually

[its-alittleobsessed]

Will i get crucified if i say i think aziraphale and Crowley are asexual

[catchastarorten]

—Sleep well.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun suggested that the group took turns staying on watch in case the other players attacked, him and Jung-bae stayed up while you and the others napped, Dae-ho took his place beside you to rest with you.

Content: fluff, cuddling(?), you head-butting him in your sleep lol, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not really proofread, sorry!

Word count: 808

You were tucked into the corner with your group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Young-il, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. Trust was a rare thing in the games, but the six of you managed to stick together, watching each other’s backs through the brutal rounds.

The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but Gi-hun’s paranoia kept your eyes open longer than you would have liked. He wasn’t wrong, though. The fear was palpable.

Your group pulled a couple of mattresses off of the bunks, arranging them as best as possible. One was dragged and laid flat against the wall, the others shoved under bunk frames for some semblance of protection.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.” Jung-bae asked, sliding a mattress to Gi-hun, who shoved it under a bunk frame.

“Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.” Gi-hun said, his eyes focused and his voice steady. “The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It’s a part of the game they designed.”

You exchanged a look with Dae-ho, who sat cross-legged beside you, holding onto some blankets and pillows. He had been your shadow ever since Red light, Green light. Always sticking close, insisting on protecting you in this place after seeing the way you froze during the first game—when he told you to stay behind him closely so you could use him as a human shield.

“We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.” Gi-hun muttered, sitting down at the foot of the bunk beds, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I’ll take the first watch.”

The lights flickered out not long after, leaving the only source being the giant piggy-bank hung on the ceiling that was glowing dimly.

It was after a while when Jung-bae rolled out lazily from under a bunk and plopped down beside Gi-hun, the two of them speaking in hushed voices.

You laid down on one of the mattresses, wrapping the thin blanket around yourself. Dae-ho settled beside you not long after, and though you weren’t expecting it, his hand brushed against yours as he shifted to get comfortable, and you were sure you saw his face flush before he hid it, which barely worked, to be honest.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll fight them off if they try to come over here.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. Dae-ho had a knack for looking out for you since you met him in the games, even in the little ways—giving you his portion of food, stepping in when someone got too close. You hadn’t known him long, but there was this easy warmth between the two of you.

Within minutes, you were sound asleep.

Dae-ho’s soft snores filled the small space you both shared. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him, just like it did to you. His arm had draped protectively over your side in his sleep, his presence a cocoon of safety.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat near the bunks, their attention now drawn to the sound of soft snoring. Both sets of eyes landed on you and Dae-ho, curled up together on the mattress.

“They’re out like a light,” Jung-bae remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know, seeing them like that... it reminds me of when we went on strike. We were occupying the factory, and management told us to come out. They said anyone who came out voluntarily would be let off the hook and receive more severance pay.”

Gi-hun stared into the distance, as if recalling what happened.

“You were sleeping beside me and you were talking in your sleep. ‘Mom, I’m hungry, give me some food.’” Jung-bae made an exaggerated crying face, and Gi-hun gave him a glare as Jung-bae nudged him with his elbow, smirking.

Their voices echoed, and soon enough, soft laughs filled the quietness.

Jung-bae chuckled again, louder this time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The noise had reached you, and you stirred slightly. Dae-ho, still asleep, curled closer to you instinctively, his arm tightening around your side. His movement caused your head to shift slightly, and without warning, you head-butted him in your half-asleep state of grogginess.

Dae-ho furrowed his brows, a soft noise escaping his lips as he shifted again, burying his face into the crook of his arm. You tugged the blanket over your shoulders, muttering something incoherent before nestling deeper into the mattress, falling right back asleep.

Jung-bae stifled another laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Gi-hun gave him a glare, but a faint smile was already tugging at the corners of his mouth too.

“They’re like kids,” Jung-bae whispered, his tone fond.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need it.” Gi-hun shook his head and sighed softly.

[agoldengalaxy]

baldurs gate 3 companion headcanons:

- gale talks in his sleep

- astarion once made karlach laugh so hard that she sprayed fire out of her nose

- shadowheart can and will hurt anyone on purpose, but if she accidentally hits someone/steps on their foot she secretly feels REALLY bad about it

- when karlach told gale she hadn’t read a book since primary school he nearly passed out

- wyll is an emotional drunk. he has cried about the stars being beautiful and about how proud he is of his companions

- lae’zel learned her favorite trick from some of the tiefling children: sticking her tongue out at people she hates

- when she thinks everyone is asleep, jaheira sings old lullabies. minsc and wyll are the only ones who have heard, but they don’t say anything because they don’t want her to stop

- the children love to put flowers in halsin’s hair. he loves it too, and will return the favor if they ask. he once did it to an unenthusiastic astarion, who ended up secretly liking it

- minsc takes the BEST care of his nails. boo’s too, obviously. he has let yenna paint them once or twice

- everyone has a lowkey crush on wyll

- when no one is looking, astarion likes to feed and pet scratch and the owlbear, making comments about how they’re the cutest ones there (besides him) and no one gets him like they do

- karlach asked wyll for dance lessons. she never quite gets the hang of it, but she has fun, and wyll is proud of her

- astarion and shadowheart pretend to hate each other, but gossip about everyone else when they’re not looking

- everyone actually really enjoys gale’s cooking but they’d rather die than admit that

- girls night: shadowheart and lae’zel are at each other’s throats with daggers. karlach is passed out on the floor. jaheira is drinking all the ale she can find. everything’s on fire. the next day they look back on this fondly

- boys night: halsin and gale are laying on the ground to look at the stars, stoned out of their minds. wyll and astarion are pouring their hearts out to each other. minsc and boo are making dirt castles. the next day they pretend none of it happened

[fireinmoonshot]

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second. 

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start. 

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it. 

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today. 

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.” 

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason. 

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.” 

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are. 

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were. 

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.” 

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike. 

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?” 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers. 

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler. 

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you. 

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had. 

It drives Tyler insane. 

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is. 

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?” 

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another. 

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.  

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed. 

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer. 

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers.  They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.” 

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!” 

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God. 

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you. 

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?” 

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening. 

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same. 

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler. 

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat. 

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck. 

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go. 

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet. 

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.” 

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out. 

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again. 

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive. 

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing. 

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual. 

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them. 

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield. 

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims. 

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size. 

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time. 

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this. 

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you. 

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it. 

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore. 

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom. 

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline. 

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead. 

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it. 

Everything is okay,  you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name. 

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?” 

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.” 

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain. 

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome. 

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!” 

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his. 

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive. 

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment. 

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler. 

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.” 

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully. 

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused. 

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being. 

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

[amoressb]

───── STRAWBERRY KISSES 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ how even the simplest things like a bowl of strawberries can hold the sweetest memories ｡｡ idolbf!riki x reader .

FLUFF & wc. 1000 + ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki sat at the end of the table, lazily twirling a bright red strawberry between his fingers. the rest of enhypen was gathered around him, their usual chaotic energy filling the room as the livestream continued. comments flooded the chat, hearts fluttering across the screen like confetti as fans eagerly interacted with their favorite idols.

the group had been live for almost an hour, answering questions, playing games, and teasing each other as they always did. but lately, the fans had noticed something peculiar…riki seemed distracted. he wasn’t as hyper as usual, his usual playful antics subdued as he occasionally glanced down at the bowl of strawberries sitting in front of him.

“riki, you good?” jungwon asked, nudging him with his elbow. “you’ve been staring at that strawberry for like five minutes.”

riki blinked, realizing he’d been spacing out. he let out a soft chuckle, adjusting his posture. “yeah, i’m fine,” he mumbled, rolling the strawberry between his fingers again.

the fans, sharp as ever, picked up on it immediately. the comments exploded :

“why does ni-ki look so lovestruck?”

“he’s thinking about something…or someone.”

“wait, does this have to do with strawberries???”

jay, ever the instigator, leaned in with a smirk. “let me guess, someone special likes strawberries?” rikis lips twitched, betraying a smile before he could stop it. the rest of the members erupted into knowing laughter.

“oh, he’s done for,” heeseung laughed, pointing at him. “riki, man, you’re too obvious.” riki shook his head but didn’t deny it. instead, he finally lifted the strawberry to his lips, taking a slow bite as the chat exploded with emojis and frantic guesses.

sunghoon, raising an eyebrow, decided to push further. “so, are you saying you only eat strawberries now because of her?” the room quieted for a second, then riki, still chewing, shrugged and casually said, “maybe.” the members lost it.

“CONFIRMED!” jake shouted, pointing at the camera. “he’s whipped!”

“riki, this is a public livestream!” jungwon stifled a laugh, burying his face in his hands. “think of your image!”

riki only laughed, feeling warmth creep up his neck. he wasn’t usually this open about your relationship, but something about today made him feel bold. maybe it was because he missed you.

the chat continued to spiral into chaos :

“is he talking about his girlfriend??”

“ni-ki is literally in love and we are witnessing it live.”

“THE WAY HE’S SMILING SOMEONE HELP.”

sunoo, ever the curious one, decided to dig even deeper. “so, how did this strawberry obsession start, huh?” riki glanced down at the half eaten strawberry in his hand, thinking back to the moment everything changed.

“it’s because of her,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “she loves strawberries. always eats them, always tries to make me eat them. at first, i didn’t really care, but…” he trailed off, his lips curving into the kind of smile that made his members groan in secondhand embarrassment.

“but what?” jay prodded. riki looked straight into the camera, his dark eyes gleaming. “but she said they taste better when they’re shared.”

the members erupted in dramatic shrieks, some clutching their chests like they’d been physically wounded. “ENOUGH.” jake dramatically stood up, pointing at riki. “take him off the livestream. he’s too far gone.”

heeseung pretended to wipe away tears. “our riki…he’s in love.”

“gross,” sunghoon muttered, but he was grinning.

riki just shook his head, amused by their antics. then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated beside him. he glanced down and sure enough, there was a message from you.

“caught you talking about me, didn’t i? i’ll bring strawberries later, be ready.”

his heart did that stupid fluttering thing again. trying to act casual, he set his phone down and returned his attention to the camera. but anyone paying close attention, especially you, would notice the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“i’ll be waiting,” he murmured before popping another strawberry into his mouth. the chat went absolutely wild.

———————

the dorm was quieter now. after ending the livestream, the members had all gone their separate ways. some showering, some playing games, some already asleep.

riki, however, was waiting. finally, there was a knock at the door. he didn’t even hesitate before opening it and there you stood, a small bag in one hand and a mischievous smile on your lips. “delivery for mr.strawberry lover.”

riki scoffed, but his grin was impossible to hide. “you saw the livestream, didn’t you?”

“oh, i did.” you held up the bag, rustling it lightly. “and as promised, i brought strawberries.”

he stepped aside to let you in, watching as you plopped down onto his bed, pulling out the container of fresh strawberries. you grabbed one, holding it up to his lips. “since they taste better when shared, right?”

rikis lips twitched as he leaned forward, taking a slow bite. the sweetness bursted on his tongue, but all he could focus on was the way you were looking at him.

“you’re really making me soft,” he mumbled, swallowing. you grinned, “i know.” rolling his eyes, he grabbed a strawberry and held it up to your lips in return. you took a bite, chewing happily as riki watched you with an amused smile.

then, out of nowhere, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. you blinked. “what was that for?” riki shrugged, biting into another strawberry. “you had juice on your face.”

“uh huh,” you said, unconvinced. but before you could tease him, he kissed your other cheek, then your nose, then your forehead.

“riki,” you giggled, lightly pushing his chest. “what are you doing?”

he only grinned, swallowing the last bit of strawberry before his eyes darkened playfully. “making sure you know that strawberries taste better like this.” and then, before you could react, he kissed you on the lips.

it was soft at first, sweet, just like the fruit still lingering on his tongue. but then, as your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, he deepened the kiss slightly, letting himself savor the moment.

when he pulled back, you were smiling. “okay, i’ll admit. that might be the best way to eat strawberries.” riki chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “told you.”

and with that, he popped another strawberry into his mouth. this time, not because of the fruit itself, but because it reminded him of you.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz @hyukabean

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well! Your account has been such a comfort for me these past few months and I’m so grateful for you! I was wondering if I could request a poly!marauders drabble where one of them calls the reader a pet name but they’re still really new to the relationship so they don’t realize that he’s talking to them?

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 598 words

You take quiet, giddy pleasure in the chaos of all four of you in the boys’ kitchen. It’s not the tiniest of kitchens, but small enough yet that you can’t move about without brushing or bumping various body parts into each other’s. Honestly, you wouldn’t want to. 

You find yourself deeply enamored by the sound of your knife hitting the cutting board in time with James’, by the way Remus touches your back to reach into the cabinet above your head and Sirius sneaks little bites of your unfinished dinner and slips you some too. Your voices overlap and intertwine, making requests or directions while you dice potatoes at a steady pace. 

“Would you call these finely chopped?” 

“Yeah, I’d say so.” 

“Give that a stir for me please, love.” 

“Where do you guys keep the spices?” 

“Jamie, I’d say that’s more than enough cheese.” 

“Spices are right in that cabinet above you. See? Yeah, there you go.” 

“If, in theory, I forgot to get paprika at the store, would cayenne be a decent substitute?” 

“Do we have chili powder?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Use that.” 

“Would you pass me the thyme, sweetheart?” 

“Sweetheart?” 

You turn only when the kitchen is silent. Remus is looking at you, kind eyes kindly prompting. He nods to just above you. 

“It’s in the spice cabinet there,” he says. “The dried thyme.” 

“Oh.” You blink, reaching for it. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were talking to me.” 

“That’s alright,” says Remus. He takes it from you, a bemused smile playing on the edges of his mouth. “Thank you.” 

“Why wouldn’t he be talking to you?” Sirius asks. 

“I don’t know.” You return to your potatoes, knife thunking against the wooden cutting board. “There are four of us in here, so.” 

Sirius makes a humming sound you know means trouble, and then his arms are needling underneath yours, winding around your middle. His voice is saccharine beside your ear. “Do you not think you have a sweet heart, my love?” 

You laugh. “Don’t,” you say, though you let some of your weight lean backwards into him. Sirius takes it happily. 

“You know you’re our sweetheart.” You may never get used to this, how Sirius can go from teasing to earnest in a second. You can’t always tell which is which, either. He seems to find something worth notice in the crook of your neck, resting his lips there in a long, funny kiss. “Don’t you?” 

You roll your eyes. James shoots you a grin. “I just thought,” you say, “that he might be talking to one of you.” 

Buried beneath your jaw, Sirius makes a noise of disapproval. 

“What?”

“You knew he could be talking to you too, though, right?” James prompts. 

You shrug, moving your eyes back to your work. “I guess.” 

“You guess?” Sirius sets his chin on your shoulder. 

“It just didn’t occur to me in the moment,” you admit. Your potato pieces are getting smaller and smaller. 

Remus laughs. “That won’t do, dove.” 

“See,” you point, smiling, “that one I know.” 

James laughs, too, bumping your hip. “I’d hope so! We’re going to need to start calling you things more often, get you used to it.” 

“I just wasn’t expecting it.” You’re shrinking in on yourself a tiny bit now. Sirius only holds you closer, cooing. 

“Start expecting it,” Remus advises you. 

“Let’s practice.” James raises his eyebrows at you pointedly. “Angel, would you pass me the salt?” 

You huff a laugh, grabbing it for him. “Sure.” 

“Such a quick study!” Sirius praises, mushing another kiss to your cheek. “That’s our girl.” 

[not-neverland06]

I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you. 

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help. 

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott. 

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look. 

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together. 

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it. 

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way. 

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you. 

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely. 

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself. 

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain. 

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off. 

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse. 

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells. 

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often. 

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.” 

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him. 

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong. 

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple. 

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back. 

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different. 

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience. 

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself. 

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything. 

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home. 

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you. 

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry. 

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy. 

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag. 

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.  

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet. 

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do. 

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him. 

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you. 

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?” 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong. 

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief. 

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care. 

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful. 

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is. 

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped. 

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing. 

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone. 

It feels so wrong. 

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you. 

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face. 

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low. 

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation. 

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism. 

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch. 

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself. 

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself. 

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you. 

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other. 

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new. 

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great. 

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable. 

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting. 

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily. 

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you. 

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging. 

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut. 

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you. 

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair. 

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets. 

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other. 

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore. 

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone. 

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on. 

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy. 

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

[spokenforyou]

xavier x fem reader

MISTY SILHOUETTE

synopsis: xavier is in another jealous mood, so he takes it out on you in return notes: inspired by the newest cards, uses some lines! line credit to INFOLD. warnings: vulgarity, nsfw, swearing, unprotected, creampie, marks of ownership, f receiving, jealousy, possession wc: 1.9k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

Xavier is having yet another one of his temper tantrums. It’s gone on a lot and it grows on your nerves over time.

He stands in front of you, trimming a plant he picked up earlier.

“This plant needs some trimming.” He mumbles under his breath and you sigh as he continues to trim, leaves falling to the floor beneath your feet.

You only assume he’s still irritated at the fact that the neighbor shows a friendly interest in you.

You sit up in your seat and tap his butt with your foot, understanding what’s going through his mind

“Xavier. Don’t take your frustration out on the plants. They’re innocent.” You pat his butt again until he turns around.

A plain look on his face, cheeks flushed, shirt undone, and darkness in his blue eyes.

“Where should I put it then?” Xavier looks down at you and lifts a brow as he steps forward.

His hand glides up your leg and under your dress, a gasp leaving your lips at the sudden touch.

Your arms latch onto his shoulders and he lifts you up.

“Don’t use the same trick twice. It loses its effectiveness.” His eyes bore into yours and he smiles.

“Then what are you suggesting?” You whisper, and he puts you down, turning you to face the window.

Xavier’s palm comes up and lands on the glass beside you while one hand traces up to cup your breast. The thick fabric making it hard to feel what he wants, but he gets an idea of it as they’ve been in his hands many times before.

“Didn’t you say I shouldn’t take it out on the plants? What exactly did I do wrong?” His soft voice rings through your ears and he presses his chin on your shoulder. His touch was soft compared to his apparent mood.

“Are you pretending to be mad, Xavier?” You reach up and lift his head off your shoulder, running your fingers along his jaw.

He moves his arm and yanks your hand away, pressing it to the glass, before it returns position to your breast.

“I thought you were the type to calm down quickly, Xav…” You chuckle, and he presses himself against you, bending you a bit.

“Depends on whom I’m with, and it also depends on how I want to calm myself down…” His lips tease your ear.

You feel his growing arousal against you and he presses kisses to your neck, whispering as he does so.

“I hate when that bastard puts his eyes on you.” Xavier murmurs against your skin, his hands gripping your hips.

His sudden language takes you off guard and you can only feel him growing more heated.

“He was just being nice…” You let out the tiniest whine as he bites down.

“Nice, my ass.” He leans back and turns your head to look you in the eyes.

He clearly didn’t like the thought of another man talking to you, even if it was for a friendly chat. Wanting your eyes on him at all times, needy, clingy.

“You’re mine.” Xavier murmurs as pulls you flush up against him, his thigh slotting between your legs.

His lips crash onto yours, hand still comforting your jaw to face his, and he rocks against you as he kisses you like his life depends on it… As if your neighbor Charlie was here watching it all unfold.

Tongues twisting and dancing against each other while his other hand come to rest on the windowsill.

He moves it briefly and travels it up your arms, intertwining your hands together.

The kiss goes on for what feels like an eternity before he pulls away, the two of you panting from such a simple thing of devouring each other.

“Xav… There’s something off about you today…” you murmur and he nods.

“I agree. It’s strange…” Xavier’s hand still holds your jaw as he turns it and kisses your neck once again gently.

“It looks like I won’t be easily satisfied tonight.” He whispers before turning you and lifting you in his arms once more.

He carries you to the loveseat with a smirk as he drops you, lips going to your cheek, neck, and ear. One hand cups the back of your head and the other glides back under your dress.

“Xav, we can’t do it here…” Your hand pulls his away, and he gives you a stern look.

“Don’t move.” He suddenly stands and pulls your legs apart. “You said you’d leave me alone if I pushed my luck, right? Well, I’m pushing my luck now… Are you going to ignore me?”

Xavier leans down a bit and looks you dead in the eyes, face red, and chest heaving.

“How could I?” You chuckle and he smirks.

“Right, so you like my possessiveness, huh?” He leans down and nips your earlobe.

“Never said I hated it…” You bring his hand under your dress, running along your panties, and he chuckles darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Naughty girl…” His hands travel higher, toying with the fabric before he finally pulls it down your legs.

“I’m the only one who can touch you like this…” Xavier pulls the dress down next, leaving you with only a bra on. He quickly undoes that as well and you’re suddenly bare.

Giving you no time to protest, he kneels before you. His tongue running over your sensitive skin, exploring your folds. You moan quietly and grip his hair.

“Xav I…” He growls as he hears you mumble.

“You’re mine…” He growls against your skin, hands running up your thighs as he devours you. Pulling away once more, he looks up at you.

“And I don’t share pretty…” Diving back in he whines and you swear you see his eyes roll back.

His tongue darting for your silky folds, bliss overtaking his senses. You were a sight, and it was something he’d never get bored with seeing, tasting, or hearing.

Xavier moans against you and brings a hand down to palm himself through his tight pants.

“Mmm, we gotta let him hear you. Think these walls are soundproof or what?” He suddenly pulls away with a pop, your slick on his lips and you melt.

“Xavier… No we-” He quickly cuts you off and pulls you off the seat before dragging you to the couch, where there’s room.

He’s not a patient man, and he’s already growing impatient. He pushes you onto the couch and positions himself between your legs.

“You know I was gonna take things slow, but I don’t think that’s gonna work, baby.” He quickly pulls a condom out of his pocket, and you mentally question why he has it in there.

“Spread for me pretty girl…” He parts your legs, and he quickly takes off his clothes, standing to assist. Once bare, he gets back into position and rolls the condom on.

“Good girl, you look so pretty. All mine.” Xavier lines himself up with your entrance, sliding in with ease.

He groans at the feel of you around him. “Fuck… You feel so good. Mmm, bet Charlie wishes he could feel you like this.” He smirks down at you as he finally bottoms out.

His hips pull back before slamming back against you and you let out a loud moan. A groan from him follows.

“I’m the only man who’s getting this kind of treatment from you, right?” He murmurs against your neck as he continues his rhythm.

“Of course, Xav…” Letting out a breathy whisper, you wrap your arms around his broad back.

He moves his mouth to your collarbone, leaving bite marks and love bites all over your skin purposefully. Everyone will know you're his once they lay eyes on your skin.

You let out loud moans and cries as he continues the rough but tender pace. Every time you cry his name, it makes him possessive.

“Louder, I want to hear you…” He nips at your jaw, his lips hungry for more, needing to be on your body.

Xavier suddenly pulls you up and leans back, situating you on his lap, not slipping out of you once.

He bounces you and latches onto your hard peak, biting and sucking, earning more cries. You were certain the neighbors could hear you and you feel a sort of excitement and embarrassment.

“Ride me…” He whispers against your breast, his hands on your hips to help you keep steady and you listen.

Bouncing on him, the slaps of skin fill the room and pants from the two of you.

“Just like that…” He groans as you grind down on him, his grip on your hips tightening. Pulling away from your bruised nipple, he directs attention to the other. You whine and arch against him, pushing further into his mouth.

“Xav…” Moans leave your lips and he releases you with a pop, running his finger over your bruised skin.

Xavier suddenly lifts you up a bit and thrusts up into you, leaving the two of you breathless. You nearly collapse and he holds you against him.

“Xavier… The condom, take it off. I wanna feel you.” You whine against his neck and he groans before pausing.

He looks up at you through hooded eyes and he whispers. “…Are you sure?”

You nod, and he bites his lip. “I’m on birth control, Xav, it’s okay.” You offer a smile and he nods before gently lifting you off him.

He hovers you above him as he pulls it off. His cock hardens even more as the cold air hits him, a hiss leaving his mouth. Pre-cum coating his length, he strokes a few times before lowering you back down.

You two let out loud gasps as you feel each other bare. You move against him and he nods, “Mmm…”

He keeps one hand on your hip to steady you as his other explores your body, his touches almost desperate. Bodies moving together you both fill the room with moans, needy ones from him.

Your body tightens, and you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “Xavier, I’m not gonna last much longer.” You lean down and press kisses to his neck.

“Neither am I, I’m so close baby…” He mutters, almost a needy whine and you feel your stomach twist. His fingers going down to rub your clit in time with the pulsing of your body.

His fingers were all it took and you’re sent over the edge of oblivion. Xavier groans and finishes with you. His hand pulls away from your clit and he wraps his arms around your back.

You collapse into his arms and he holds you while you both ride through your climaxes. His cock throbs inside of you as he fills your womb, tip pressing to your cervix.

“Ah…” You let out a whine and he smirks, sweat dripping.

“So good baby…” He rubs your back as you catch your breath. You pull back and his gaze drifts over your face in admiration.

“Xavier…” you mutter, and he tucks a piece of your tousled, wet hair behind your ear.

“Will you… Will you only be like this when you’re upset?” You run your fingers gently across his jaw and he flutters his eyes shut.

“Will you always comfort me this way?” He smiles and leans in, kissing you, tangling your tongue with him once again.

The kiss was tender and endearing, pushing his love into it. And you the same. Your two bodies heat as you embrace each other.

After kissing a bit, he pulls you off him and lays you down on the couch beside him. Xavier gets up and heads to the bathroom, coming back with a cloth.

He quickly wipes the mess between your legs and takes it to the laundry room before returning to you.

His arms wrap around you and he pulls a throw blanket from the arm of the couch, throwing it over the two of you.

“You’ll never leave me, right?” He looks over at you and you shake your head with a look of love.

“I’ll never leave you.”