#<- man who would do most of anything for a laugh

[bucketbueckers]

mess me up - paige bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 6.1k content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic synopsis: your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into paige bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. a much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking. notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came tonight,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. Look at my lawyer – you’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

[unoislazy]

For Me?

Vi x Piltover! Reader

Vi deserves the world and a partner that cares about her. Being from Zaun comes with its insecurities when being with someone from Piltover. Luckily, you know exactly how to counter them.

A/N: You guys wont have to worry about that much angst from me for a while, I need to cope from act 3 by giving Vi the best life possible and all the fluff imaginable because oh my god??

There were times when you’d think back to when and how you and your girlfriend met for the first time. Such a chance of it happening was very slim given you two belonged to two different cities, you Piltover, her Zaun. You never thought the girl who rammed into you after fleeing from an explosion from an unauthorized lab would one day come back into your life. 

The story of your reunion however was quite the convoluted one. Once again, a meeting set by nothing but pure fate and chance. 

You weren’t supposed to be at Zaun at the time. In fact, you weren’t supposed to be in Zaun at all. You went on your own, against your family's wishes, for the sake of immersing yourself in a culture that is not your own. You were raised to believe that the people of the undercity were monsters, the filth under Piltover's feet, nothing more than animals. It never felt right to you, there had to be more to it. After all, they were people too.

So, you went to see for yourself how awful these “animals” really were. 

You knew better than to walk in expecting everything to be rainbows and unicorns, but you refused to let go of your optimism as you traveled around the labyrinth like maze of streets and alleyways. 

It wasn’t until the smell of a peculiar type of food filled your senses. 

You didn’t know what it was, it was very different from anything you had ever tried before, so you decided to check it out.  

Once there, you were greeted by a fairly jolly fish-like man with a large smile. He laughed heartily, gesturing for you to take a seat and gave you a list of things to choose from. There were so many options, you had no idea where to start, and it wasn’t until you heard someone else set directly beside you did you finally have an idea. 

You looked to your left and were quickly met with a head of bright pink hair. Quite a unique shade which you could’ve sworn you’d seen before, but you brushed the thought off. There were probably plenty of people with the same hair color, besides if there’s one thing you knew not to do in Zaun, it was to stare. 

You heard one of them, a woman, order something specific off of the fish man’s list, whom she referred to as Jericho. He happily took her order before turning to her friend who denied wanting anything, and then turning back to you. 

“I’ll have the same.” You said with a polite smile. Jericho nodded before turning around and getting right to work. As you waited, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the girl next to you once again, there was something familiar about her despite her back being turned to you for the most part. 

That was until her friend noticed you staring and began to pull her hood over her eyes which grabbed the pink haired girl's attention. She quickly turned around to face you with an angered look on her face, clearly ready to fight if need be.

“Can I help y-“ She began, but before she could finish it finally clicked with you. 

“You’re the girl.” You whispered, having not realized that maybe saying that to a girl who looked, for lack of a better phrase, like she could rock your shit, probably was not a good idea.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, clearly confused, but still clearly not happy about your interruption.

“That girl, from the explosion, that was you.” 

Her reaction to your realization was less than friendly, and you couldn’t blame her. You hadn’t known at the time but she had just gotten out of jail for that same crime. She didn’t know who you were, she didn’t know what you wanted, and she didn’t want to involve herself with more pilties than she needed. 

And yet despite everything, here she was, now living with you on her days when she wasn’t in Zaun. You had quite the rocky start in the beginning but you became useful to her quest for her sister, and the more time you spent with her, the closer you two got. At first she was a bit standoffish, not believing someone from topside was capable of showing so much empathy, if any. Yet somehow you proved her wrong. You chipped away at that stone wall she built around her heart all those years away in prison and became one of the few things she coveted most. 

You two didn’t live together all the time, but your house was always open to her as you had now managed to move away from your parents. You knew Vi could never stay topside for too long, and you’d never ask her to do such. So there were a few days here and there where she would stay with you, then go back to the undercity to continue to help out, then come back up with you.

Now today was the day for Vi to come back, so you decided to surprise her to the best of your ability with the dish she got from Jericho the day you two met once again. It was quite a feat that required you to go to the undercity a fair amount of times to visit Jericho and ask for help. Luckily the sweet man was more than happy to let you in on a few of his trade secrets for the sake of a thoughtful gift. 

You weren’t the biggest fan of this type of food, you’ve tried it on more than one occasion, but it very clearly wasn’t for you. 

But it was what Vi liked so that was enough. 

As you continued to cook, you heard your door open, without even needing to look you knew it was your partner walking through the door.

“Welcome back.” You greeted warmly. 

Just then, You felt two hands wriggle around your waist before the weight of her head rested on your shoulder. She tilted her head slightly, her face now moving towards your neck, enough for you to feel the light feeling of her breath wafting over your neck. 

You ignored the feeling to the best of your ability but you couldn’t ignore the small smile that made its way to your face, this of course didn’t go unnoticed by Vi as she mumbled against your neck, 

“What are you making?” She asked, pressing her body a bit more into yours. She had a tendency to be clingy after being away for long periods of time, which you didn’t mind. 

“Something new. Just got the recipe, I think you’ll like it.” You said with a smile, which earned a short chuckle from your girlfriend who turned to begin peppering light kisses against your neck.

“If it’s made by you Sunshine, of course I will.” She said sweetly, despite the fact she was trying to ‘discreetly’ distract you. It wasn’t actually very discreet but she thought it was and you weren’t going to correct her.

“It smells familiar.” She said quietly after pausing for a moment to look back over your shoulder.

“Means I’m doing something right then.” You said happily, glad that it was going well. Her confirmation that she at the very least was beginning to recognize it was enough to motivate you to continue. However despite your motivation it was clear your girlfriend still had other plans in mind. 

Her hands slowly began to move their way up from your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as her face remained by your neck. 

“Can I at least finish the food first?” You asked with a laugh as your left hand went up to lightly brush against Vi’s face, acknowledging what she was trying to do. 

She once again mumbled quietly against you before finally pulling away. 

“Fine.” She said with an overly dramatic sigh before continuing, 

“You’re no fun.” She teased as her hands slowly, reluctantly, left your sides as she moved to the counter next to the stove you were using to cook. She leaned the back of her waist against it, her arms crossed in front of her chest, as she looked at you with a look you could only describe as a lighthearted pout.

“Save that for later you just got back. You have to eat first.” You said in a somewhat stern manner, not looking away from the food cooking in front of you. 

“Who says I can’t have a bit of dessert first?” 

“Vi!” You exclaimed as you walked her softly with a cloth that you had placed by the stove. She laughed, a full genuine laugh, which she felt like she could only do near you. You were the only one to really bring it out of her at this point. 

“Just… go sit down, the food is almost done.” You instructed, turning back to the food as she chuckled once again before walking back towards you. Her hand made its way back to your waist once again as she leaned towards your ear,

“Can’t wait.” She whispered cheekily before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and walking towards the dining room. 

You, being from a family who had lived in Piltover for quite some time, were able to afford a house with multiple furnished rooms with ease. It always threw Vi off just the slightest bit, the difference in what the two of you grew up with. It got to her more than she’d like to admit. A few times she believed herself to be holding you back, you came from a life of glittering buildings, and she came from nothing but metal scraps. 

You were so different and yet you always managed to remind her that it didn’t matter. She loved you for you and you loved her for her, wherever you came from had no effect on that.

Vi sat down in one of the few chairs in your dining room, looking around at the paintings that littered the walls, her previous thoughts remaining on her mind before she was interrupted by a plate of food entering her view and landing in front of her.

“Tada!” You exclaimed into the silent room, the only other sound being that of the plate lightly hitting the table. Vi sat in silence for a moment as she looked down at the food before her, it took her a moment before she recognized it.

“Wait. Did you-“ She began to ask.

“Find the recipe to your favorite dish from your favorite food stand? Maybe.” You responded with a proud smile as you sat down in the chair next to her, eager to have her try it. 

“How did you get the stuff for it?”

“Well, I visited a friend.” You said with a shrug. Vi looked towards you, her eyes wide with shock. As each moment passed she realized just how much effort went into this one dish.

“You hate this kind of stuff, why would you-“

“Cause I know you like it and I wanted to make it for you.” You said simply as you placed your hand atop hers.

Suddenly Vi couldn’t think of a response. Her sudden silence worried you almost, was she mad? Was she upset at you? 

You then looked at her eyes and watched as they softened, the powder blue irises glistened as water lightly began to form in them.

“Holy shit.” She said quietly, entirely taken aback as she sat back in her chair. For someone with such a tough exterior you could see the walls slightly begin to crack as she looked down at the food before her. It meant more than the world to her that you had put so much effort into something she liked, for her, and for no other reason. 

Just because you cared.

It had been a long time since Vi had been truly reminded she was loved. Just having such a simple yet, such a powerful reminder in the middle of nowhere by the one person she truly loved was almost disorienting. You went out of your way to get ingredients you couldn't get easily in Piltover, a recipe you had to go to a specific stand for, her favorite stand no less, and then put it all together?

“Vi?” You asked quietly, your other hand going up the cup to her face so she would look at you a bit more as you looked at her with a bit of concern. You didn’t expect such an emotional reaction from your gesture that you were worried you had done something wrong.

“Are you o-”

Before you could finish your question, Vi had turned to you quickly and engulfed you in a hug. This took you completely by surprise. In the time that you and Vi had been together, more often than not when it came to specifically hugging, you were the one to initiate. She just never seemed like the hugging type unless it was an occasion where she truly meant it.

And in this case, she did. 

“Thank you, Sunshine.” She said quietly as she squeezed just a bit tighter. Your hands rested against her back as you smiled, feeling as if you had done a job well done even without her trying her dish. You knew Vi had been through a lot over the years and while you didn’t know the full extent of everything just yet, you knew you could at least try to offer her some sort of comfort. So that’s what you strived for and it seems like that's what you succeeded to do. 

Once she pulled back from the hug, you reached up to wipe her tears, the smile still present on your face as you spoke. 

“Well, are you gonna try it?” You asked, to which she smiled and let out a slight chuckle. She then eagerly turned back around towards her plate and dug in as she usually did in the undercity. She knew you didn’t care about the messy nature that often came with Zaun cuisine, even if it wasn’t what you were raised on, it meant a lot to her that you at least tried it out. With one taste she immediately released a sound of pure bliss and dove back in for more.

You laughed, knowing that was Vi’s way of saying you had done a perfect job, even if she didn’t pause from her eating to just tell you so herself. 

[froggiewrites]

Fanboy

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You get a little more than you bargained for when you decide to clean your Captain's office for him and stumble upon his smutty fanfiction. Warnings: Very Mild Angst, Smut, Fem!Reader, Roleplay, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Edging, Minor Dacryphilia, Petnames (use of sweetheart and good girl) Word Count: 7.6k Notes: This was originally supposed to be a sub 2000 word silly one shot about Law writing Sora smut. As you can see, it very quickly got out of hand. I hope you all enjoy it!

You have come to terms with the fact your Captain does not and will never want you how you want him.

It was hard, at first, to hear his silky voice and see his strong hands and not imagine him saying what you want to hear as he holds you against the wall, fingers slipping slowly up your thighs to where you need him most. It got even harder a few years in, after he started wearing perpetually open shirts and coats, showing off the tattoos you so desperately want to trace your tongue across. But you’re finally starting to accept that he simply doesn’t feel the same. His eyes don’t linger on you when you’re around. He doesn’t show you any leniency (not that you would expect any, of course, but it’s hard not to notice his favoritism for Bepo when he forgives him in an instant for a transgression he had you swab the deck for). He doesn’t accept your help when you offer it, no matter how badly he needs it.

He just doesn’t really want anything to do with you, or at least no more to do with you than anyone else on the ship. Penguin and Shachi, who unfortunately clocked your affection for your Captain years ago, have come up with a long list of excuses as to why he hasn’t shown any signs of affection.

“He’s shy.”

“He gets embarrassed easily.”

“He’s worried about the power gap.”

“He only looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

“Yelling is how he shows his affection.”

And of course, your personal favorite.

“He’s just a nerd. He doesn’t know how to act around women.”

Shachi has repeated this one a lot, and as always you immediately dispute it. “That cannot possibly be true, Shachi.”

“Why not?”

“Look at him!”

“I know what he looks like. Doesn’t change the fact he gets nervous.”

“Captain has never, for even a single moment, shown any sort of hesitation or shyness in front of me. And he’s a grown man, a handsome one, not to mention a wanted pirate. You honestly expect me to believe he’s some shy little nerd who can’t bring himself to talk to me? He just doesn’t like me, Shachi. And that’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“Handle what?” Penguin’s voice echoes in the small room he and Shachi share, which you’ve decided to invade for the day. 

“Her pining for Captain.”

“Ah.”

You huff. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s like…a fact of life. Something so easy to brush past.”

Shachi narrows his eyes in confusion. “I thought you said that’s what you wanted to do. Be casual about it, and all.”

“Yeah, I want to. It feels different when you do it.” You’re pouting. You hate that you’re pouting.

Penguin gives you a pitying smile, dripping with good natured sympathy that makes you clench your jaw. “It’s tough, isn’t it?” He sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to shift you too much. He pats your shoulder, tutting quietly. “It’s hard to get over somebody you don’t really want to get over.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. You finally lift your head, and once you make eye contact, his smile turns a little more teasing.

“I know a great guy you could use as a rebound.”

You sigh. “Is it you?”

He laughs. “Who’s to say? You don’t need him yet.” His smile softens again, something more genuine. “But know that if you really do give up, there will be other guys. Other chances. Give this one a good shot, a real one, and if it doesn’t work out? Come talk to us, and it’ll all be alright.”

Shachi pipes up as well. “It will work out, really. But if it doesn’t…” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you can’t help but finally give them the laugh they were clearly aiming for. Which becomes a full on giggle fit once they light up and give each other a massive high five at their victory. The room is warm, and you finally forget your worries for a moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Law’s voice cuts through you like ice, and your laughter stops in an instant. Shachi and Penguin are unphased, of course, still smiling freely.

“I just got off of my shift, Captain. I was going to take a nap, but…” Penguin pokes your side, and you let out a soft squeak as you curl in on yourself. You don’t miss the way Law’s eyes narrow slightly at the contact, the way he seems to focus in on the noise. He must be annoyed with you, with how you’re taking up space somewhere you don’t belong.

“I’m also off shift.” Your voice is small, embarrassingly so. 

“I wasn’t talking to you two.” Law’s voice is just as flat and authoritative as always. He’s nothing if not born to command. You’d love to hear what commands he might give you, if–

No. Bad. Evil. Your mind betrays you, as it always does. You sit up so you can hide yourself behind Penguin, make yourself small and inconspicuous and hope that Law will stop looking at you with those beautiful piercing eyes. You don’t know how long you can be normal under such an intense gaze. 

“I’m on break,” Shachi defends, causing Law’s eyes to shift over to him. You can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as you feel the pressure of his gaze leave you, and you wrap your arms lightly around Penguin, allowing your forehead to fall forward and press into his back. You can feel the rumble of a laugh working its way through his chest, though you can’t figure out why.

Law’s voice is significantly harsher than before. “Well, end it.” You flinch, unused to him snapping quite so cruelly. Law may have a shorter temper than he would admit, but he never sounds quite so furious, especially not with Shachi and Penguin. He seems to realize this as well, because the next time he speaks is much gentler. “I–Just get back to work. I need everyone at their best right now.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” There’s a hint of chuckle in Shachi’s voice, for some reason. He stands, bed creaking as he does. “You can use my bed if you want to nap in here. Let Peng have his.”

You let out a soft whine, but peel yourself off of Penguin anyway. “No, it’s fine, I should get back to my room anyway. I need a nap before I do anything else.” You think you see Law nodding in approval out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look at him, his eyes are firmly on Shachi, glaring at his back as he leaves. Just wishful thinking on your part, as always. 

Penguin softly pats your back as you walk past. “Chin up. It’ll all work out.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What’ll work out?” Law is staring at Penguin’s hand on your back.

“Nothing!” You try not to sound panicked. You fail, of course.

His eyes narrow.

“Sorry, Captain. This is a secret just for us lowly crew members. No captains allowed!” Penguin’s smile is relaxed and easy, and it almost manages to calm you down. You would love to play along, make a little joke out of it, but the idea of him finding out petrifies you. What if he’s disgusted by the idea? Horrified enough to kick you out of the crew, your home, your family? He wouldn’t, you know that, but the image in your head is so clear. Your chest feels tight, your head fuzzy, and you think at some point you started holding your breath.

Law makes a noncommittal grunt, scowl still clear on his face, but he leaves. A small mercy.

“Hey, take a breath, please. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“Are you gonna be alright to get back to your room? Do you need me to walk you?” Penguin’s hand rests gently on your elbow, and he looks ready to jump to your aid at any moment.

You give him a shaky smile. “I’ll be alright. Anxiety’s never killed anyone. Probably.” You take care to walk as steadily as you can out of the room, avoiding eye contact with your Captain, who’s waiting directly outside.

“You okay?” His voice stops you in your tracks.

“Yeah, I’m–” You see the disbelief on his face. “I’ve been better. But it’s okay. I’ll get there.”

“Are Penguin and Shachi giving you trouble? They mean well, but sometimes their jokes can go a little far. I–” He clears his throat, eyes glancing away for a moment. “I could talk to them. If you need me to.”

You chuckle. This means he really has no idea he’s the source of your anguish. Good. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re actually helping me through something.”

He purses his lips. You imagine how soft they’d feel on yours. “Helping you through something?”

“Yeah. I’ve been struggling with it lately, and talking to them has really helped.” You stare intensely at the wall behind him, worrying that you’ll come undone and say something you can’t take back if you stare into his eyes for too long. Something about him just makes you want to melt under his gaze, and you can’t afford to give in to the impulse.

He hums, eyes briefly fluttering closed. “I see. Well, I’m glad you have their support.” Is it just you, or is his voice a bit colder than it was before? “I’ll leave you be. Have a nice nap.”

“Thanks, Captain.” You try not to run back to your room until you’re sure he can’t hear your footsteps anymore. You change out of your boiler suit, desperate to be in something more comfortable than this, and throw yourself into your bed face first. You press your face into your pillow, trying to ground yourself. You aren’t allowed to imagine what it would feel like to lay on Law’s chest instead, his hands on your back, tracing meaningless patterns into your skin. You aren’t allowed to imagine the warmth of the blankets as his, or the comfort of your weighted blanket as his arm around your back. You certainly aren’t allowed to cry about the fact that it isn’t him, and that it never will be. Because that would mean you weren’t getting over him, instead getting lost in a fantasy of what can never and will never be. And you have no time for fantasy, despite what your heart keeps trying to tell you. 

You dream of him, as you always seem to.

You could cope with it, if it were simply sex. If it were about nothing more than his cock and his hands and the way his voice penetrates deep into your bones whenever you hear it, turning you pliable and needy. But today’s dream is one you’ve had before, and one you always dread.

I love you. His hands are gentle as they wrap around your waist, pulling you close. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. His nose nuzzles against your neck, tickling you and making you giggle.

I love you too, Law. I think I always have. Your hands rest on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating below your fingers, quick and thundering. You smile. Nervous?

Of course I am. Look at you. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the affection flooding them. His nose brushes against yours, his lips growing closer, and his eyes flutter shut.

Yours shoot open.

No matter how many dreams you have about Law, you can never kiss him. How sad, that your brain can imagine a hundred ways he can fuck you and not one in which gives you the one thing you’ve been craving most.

You throw off your covers and throw on a bra, not bothering to get fully dressed. You need some air, which is unfortunate, considering the Tang won’t surface for at least another day or two. You can at least go downstairs and find a window, press yourself against the glass and pretend you’re out in the cold of the ocean, at peace with the world around you. You can avoid passing Law’s office, and hopefully that means you’ll avoid the man himself. You don’t want to burst into tears the moment you see him, and you feel too soft and fragile right now, like your edges are crumbling. Half of you is still in the dream, melting into fantasy, and being snapped into reality with a single look might shatter you.

You pad quietly out into the hallway, unsure of what time it is, not wanting to wake anyone. It’s impossible to tell what time of day it is on the Tang when you’re underwater, lit only by harsh fluorescents that constantly buzz. It’s peaceful, feeling the cold metal of the floors seep through your socks and hearing the quiet thunk of your footsteps muffled by the fabric. 

“Are you heading downstairs?”

You turn to see Bepo, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, papers in hand. “Yeah, I am. Why? Do you need something?”

“Can you run these to Captain for me? I would, but–” 

You see him wince as he speaks, and you immediately know what the problem is. Before you can even think about it, you’re swiping the papers from his hands easily. “Yeah, of course, big guy. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you so much!” He’s off in an instant.

You stare at the papers, willing yourself into reality. You’re going to bring something to your captain. The man you have no other relationship with. Just doing your job. And afterwards you can go back to your room and cry all you want, if you really feel like you need to.

Law should be in his office right now, buried up to his neck in paperwork. It doesn’t feel great to add to that pile, or to let him see you so underdressed, but Bepo needed help. You can’t let him suffer just to avoid some embarrassment. You make your way down, knocking lightly against his office door.

No voice calls you inside.

Strange. He should be here. Maybe he fell asleep at his desk again. You’ve heard the others scold him for that dozens of times, and you’ve caught him yourself once or twice. He’s going to ruin his back if he keeps doing that. You crack open the door, ready to shift him into a more comfortable position, but you find your Captain isn’t actually there at all. His desk is a mess, papers everywhere, a sharp contrast from the neatly organized shelves and minimalist look of the rest of the room.

“Maybe I should tidy up for him,” you mutter to yourself. Law hates asking for help with things he believes he should be able to handle on his own, but clearly this is getting away from him. And even if he wasn’t grateful for the intrusion, at least it might lighten his load a little. You’d do nearly anything to ease your Captain’s burdens, if he’d just let you.

Before you realize it, your hands are on the papers, your former fragility forgotten as you get lost in the calm that such a mundane task brings you. You start by simply organizing the papers into stacks based on their titles and a quick skim of their opening paragraphs. You don’t read any further, not wanting to read anything not meant for your eyes, and you quickly find you’re able to organize everything into three neat stacks: medical papers, ship logs, and a third stack of anything that doesn’t fit into the previous two. You’re nearly finished when you find a title that makes you pause.

You can’t figure out what What You Can’t Have could mean, or what this bundle of papers is doing in Law’s office. Skimming the first few paragraphs doesn’t give you any explanation, until you start reading more closely and see a name: Sora.

Everyone in the North Blue knows about Sora, Warrior of the Sea, and everyone on this ship knows it more intimately than most. Your Captain’s fondness for the series and your fondness for him means you know it very well, well enough to know this is not one of the noncanonical (but still official) spinoff novels, or a novel adaptation of one of the comics. There’s a character you’ve never heard of before in this, one that, if you were a more paranoid person, you would suspect is based on you. She can’t be, of course. That would be ridiculous. But as you read her introductory paragraph, you can’t help but notice she bears a striking physical resemblance to you. Same hair and eye color, same height, same build. But she can’t be you. She’s described as seductive, enchanting, and many other things you know nobody would ever say about you.

You should put this down. But the writing style is so familiar, and so are the handwritten edits in the margins. Your captain wrote this. You had no idea this was what he did in what little spare time he has. You keep telling yourself to stop reading, to tuck it away and pretend you didn’t see it, because really, you know he wouldn’t want you to have seen it, easily embarrassed as he is. But there’s so much passion in the words, so much care, and frankly? It’s good. Really good. You think he has some real talent, in something you would have never expected him to even try. His care for the series oozes from every word, and he’s really good at building tension, and–

Oh.

Your captain hasn’t just been writing fanfiction about his favorite hero.

He’s been writing smut.

Really good smut, honestly.

You lean against the desk, completely enraptured by his work. The tension between Sora and this unnamed woman is astonishing, every single word winding you up tighter as you wait for the dam to break. Before you know it, you’re fully bent over the desk, clutching the page in your hands, trying not to rub your thighs together at the very graphic descriptions of what Sora is doing with his hands. You imagine Law’s hands, lithe and long, sliding under your shirt like Sora’s do under this mystery woman’s. You imagine his breath puffing against your ear as he instructs, be good for me, now, and maybe you can finally get what you want, just like Sora does. You imagine him moving impossibly closer, feeling his hardness press into your thigh as– 

“What are you doing in here?”

You freeze. Your captain is standing in the door, papers in hand and scowl severe. If you didn’t know better, you would think for a moment his eyes lingered on the cleavage you’re showing by leaning over this far. But you do know better, so you tell yourself he’s simply observing the papers in your hands, even if his gaze seems aimed too high for that. You shoot up, papers still in hand, shirt riding up in the process, and god does it look like his eyes dip down to your exposed midriff in the process. But they don’t. You have more pressing matters than your delusions, anyway.

“Hi Captain!”

“...Hi.”

“I–Um. I was organizing your desk for you.”

His eyes linger on the three stacks of papers, humming quietly. “I see that. …Why?”

“Bepo had me run papers down to you, but you weren’t here, and–and your desk was so messy, so much messier than usual, and I was worried maybe you were overwhelmed and I thought it might help.” You’re speaking a mile a minute, clutching the papers close to your chest in some desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the sound of the papers wrinkling causes him to glance down and now you’re sure that just for a moment he was looking at your boobs and you’re far more flustered than you were when you began.

And even worse, he smiles. It’s a soft, gentle thing, which sneaks so slowly onto his face you don’t even know if he realizes it’s there. But it is. And it’s beautiful. “Thank you, then. I appreciate the thought.”

Your grip eases on the papers for a second, and the crinkling brings his attention back to them. You don’t know what gives it away, but with the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his lips part, you know that he knows what you have in your hands. The way he whispers your name, the fear in it, makes your heart clench.

“Captain–”

“Did you–I–” He takes a breath, gathers himself. “Did you read anything you weren’t supposed to?”

God, you did. You’re halfway through a sex scene, flushed and flustered and thinking about your captain in ways that are wholly and completely inappropriate. You’re panicking. You can’t let Law see how flustered you are, can’t let him realize that you were fantasizing about him, lusting after him in his office while he’s out like some kind of pervert. So, trying to turn this around on him, throw him off his rhythm, you decide to make a deeply out of character choice.

You open your mouth, taking a dramatic breath as though you're going to start reading aloud, and you can see the panic in Law's eyes. Before you can decide between reading and handing it over to spare him the embarrassment, you hear “Shambles!” as the papers in your hand are swapped with the ones he walked in with. You're momentarily disappointed, before you look down and are struck with intense and all consuming delight.

In trying to get the fanfiction out of your hands, Law has, in fact, given you more of his fanfiction to read.

You gasp quietly, cheshire cat grin widening. Law looks at you with confusion, clearly still so thrown he hasn't realized what's just transpired. In your current state, you can only think of one way to inform him.

"Her hands were soft and gentle, so small compared to his-"

"STOP." He lunges forward around the desk, powers forgotten as he decides to bullrush you to get the papers out of your hands. His hands wrap around your wrists, and before you know it you’re pinned against the desk, chests pressed together, his leg pressed between your thighs. You flush, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hard body against yours, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Do you think this is funny?”

You open your mouth to respond, but his lips are so close, and you feel something else pressing into your midriff. You make a small choked noise, and his glare doesn’t dampen.

“Are you trying to embarrass your captain?”

“I–uh–Captain–” You can barely squeak out anything, and he presses closer.

“Answer me.”

“You’re so close.”

He pauses.

He blinks.

And suddenly your captain is across the room, face bright red, holding his papers in front of his chest like a shield. “I–um.” He stares at you a moment, his eyes moving from your face to your chest to your hips and back up, and suddenly the papers shifts down in front of his crotch.

He couldn’t…

Could he?

Before you can process this, he’s speaking again, his tone far less authoritative than it was before. “How far did you read?”

“Uh–pretty far.”

You could swear his voice cracks a little as he whispers, “Oh god. This is–you were never supposed to see that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep reading, it was just–it was really good.”

He stares at you a moment, mouth agape. “What?”

“It was–I liked it a lot. I didn’t even mean to start it, I just couldn’t figure out what pile to put it in, and then I got really invested, and–I’m really, really sorry, Captain.”

“You liked it?” His eyes are narrowed, looking at you like something dangerous, like if he shows a moment of weakness you’ll pounce. He approaches you slowly, inching closer and closer.

“...Yeah. I did. I was really impressed, actually. I didn’t know you were a writer.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t call myself that.”

“Why?”

“I just…don’t know if I’m good at it.” He sounds small in a way you’ve never heard him. You’ve never seen Law less than confident before. He absolutely radiates it, a constant smug grin and twinkle in his eyes. It suits him far better than slumped shoulders and wringing hands.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. What I was able to read, anyway. I couldn’t bear to put it down.” You reach for him for just a moment, your hand ready to touch his shoulder, but something in you pulls it back. You can’t bring yourself to touch him, not as you are. 

He won’t look at you. You can feel his regret in sharing, in allowing his mask to crack slightly. There’s a bitterness to his tone as he snaps at you like a wounded animal. “You expect me to believe that? That you didn’t just read it to laugh at me?”

You can’t keep the pity off of your face. His first instinct is always to believe he’ll be hurt, that an open hand is a sign of a slap, and not a kind touch. “Why on earth would I do that, Captain?”

His shoulders unknot a bit as he thinks it over. You have never done anything to hurt him, and to tease in such a cruel way is not in your nature. He’s not relaxed, not quite, but he isn’t ready to run anymore. He leans against a nearby table, parking himself at a distance but assuring you he won’t go further. “I suppose you wouldn’t. …So you really liked it?”

The way he’s looking at you is so fragile, so soft. You feel your heart clench at the sight of such a guarded man looking so adorable, though you know he would hate to be called such a thing. You can’t help the affection that leaks into your gentle smile as you look at him. “I really did.”

He huffs, trying to bring back up his walls, but he can’t hide his relief, and his continued interest. “What did you like about it?”

“I thought the descriptions were very vivid. It was…” It feels like crossing a line you can’t uncross to call it hot, but he’s looking at you so expectantly. “Very stimulating.”

Something akin to a smirk grows on his face, offset by the dust of a blush on his cheeks. His voice is an octave deeper when he speaks. “Simulating?”

You shiver. “I–uh–yes. The leads had really good chemistry. I never imagined Sora would be so…charming. And I liked the woman too, though I have to admit I didn’t recognize her name.”

He nods. “You wouldn’t. She’s an original character.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to try my hand at something new, and I didn’t like pairing him with any of the canon characters so I just…made one up.”

You shift nervously on your feet, thinking about how remarkably familiar her description was. “So you made her just for this? Didn’t even give her a name?”

“I haven’t decided her name yet, but I’m working on it. And yeah, she’s just for this. Why?”

You want to be subtle, ease your way in, but your mind is running a mile a minute and frankly subtlety has never been your strong suit anyway. “So…is she supposed to be me?”

He shoots up so quickly he nearly falls over. “What? No! No, why would you think that?” He looks absolutely mortified, like he’s praying the floor swallows him whole. He looks about two seconds away from shambling himself out of the sub and letting the ocean take him away.

“Well in her intro, when you describe her…she looks a lot like me.”

“...She does?” He seems genuinely surprised, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Why are you asking? You’re the writer! You didn’t realize?”

“No, I…” He’s blushing to the tips of his ears. “She was just supposed to be a beautiful woman. I didn’t think that hard about what she looked like beyond that.”

“She has the same hair color and eye color as me, you describe her as around my height, and the dress she’s wearing in her intro is my favorite color.”

His shoulders are so tense they’re practically up over his ears. If his voice cracks when he yells, you’re kind enough not to acknowledge it. “I didn’t think that much about it! I just thought of a beautiful woman and I described her.”

“So when you think of a beautiful woman in your head, you see me?”

He doesn’t answer.

You try to hide your giddy smile. “That’s sweet, Captain.”

He avoids eye contact so aggressively you swear it must be hurting him at this point. “It wasn’t–I–I didn’t notice. You don’t think it’s…creepy?”

“That you think I’m beautiful?”

“That I wrote porn about a woman who looks exactly like you.”

“Oh. When you put it like that I guess it doesn’t sound great.” He tenses again, so you rush to reassure him. “But no, I don’t think it’s creepy. It’s not like you meant to, or anything. Or that you wrote about me and like, another member of the crew or something. Why would I be mad that I just happen to be exactly your type?” Your heart is beating out of your chest as you try to portray a confidence you certainly don’t feel. 

“Right. Yeah. I–There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And it’s…great porn, honestly.”

Your delivery is so awkward the tension finally breaks as he laughs at you. “I appreciate that. I worked hard on it. But I’m not sure on some of the descriptions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure it reads as true to life.”

“Does it need to?”

“No, not really, fantasies don’t have to be realistic. But…I can’t help but think about it anyway. What if part of it is so unrealistic it takes you out of it entirely, and I just didn’t notice? Or didn’t know because I’ve never tried that specific thing? Do you know what I mean?”

You do. You know insecurity in your work, the way it whispers in your ear. You know that words are not enough reassurance to silence those whispers. You want to help him, even if you don’t know how you could.

“What if we…tested it? To see if it’s realistic?” You can’t believe the words that just left your mouth. From the look on his face, Law can’t either.

“What?” A beautiful crimson streaks across his face and up to his ears, heat radiating off of him.

“Oh my god. Forget I said that, that was so inappropriate, I’ll just go–”

“No!” He’s so loud you both flinch, and he seems surprised by his own objection. His long fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you can feel his calluses brush against your skin. God, what you wouldn’t give for those fingers to be somewhere else. “No, don’t–don’t leave. I think–I would–um. I’d like that.”

You blink. “You would?”

“Just to…test it. To make sure my writing is accurate. I’m a perfectionist.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” His eyes flicker down to where he’s holding you, and to your surprise, he doesn’t release his grip. He tugs you closer, pressing your chests together, and you can feel his warm breath in his ear. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Law.”

“What?”

The deep rumble of his voice is commanding in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together. “I want to hear you say my name. Call me Law.”

“Yes, Law.”

You can feel his smirk as he whispers the next words in your ear. “Good girl.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you bite your lip to keep from making any deeply embarrassing noises. He chuckles as he pulls away, and you see no trace of his earlier apprehension or nerves. You suppose Law has always been a good liar, always putting up the front of the proud, confident, and unshakable Surgeon of Death. What is this but another part for him to play?

“How did it start again?” He places his hands on your hips, leading you away from the desk and toward the wall. “She and Sora meet up in the club, strike up a conversation–”

“Can we skip to the good part?” You hate how needy and breathless you sound. You’re already worked up from reading, from hearing him speak, from being so close, that you think if you spend another minute without some kind of release you might explode.

He chuckles. “I guess we can skip forward a bit.” He presses you against the wall, hand sliding to your thigh. You shiver, but he stops right before his fingers slide under your shorts. “But have you been good enough to earn it?”

You whine, a pathetic, wounded sound that comes from deep within you. For a moment, you see his facade slip as he swallows, trying not to give away how much the sound turned him on. But after a moment his mask settles back firmly in place, and you’re both ready to continue the game. “Please, Law. I’ve been good. I’ll be good.”

His smile is all teeth as his fingers find their place inside of you. First one, pumping slowly and deliberately, curling to hit your sweet spot just right. He moans quietly in your ear at the feeling of it. You know his line before he says it. “Do you feel that? The way you’re pulling me in? You need me bad, sweetheart, don’t you?”

He inserts a second finger right as you open your mouth to answer. “Ahh–Yes! I need you!”

He pumps harder, faster, and his other hand starts to wander towards your chest. His lips find your neck, nipping at the point where it meets your jaw, making you gasp again. His hand gently squeezes your breast through your shirt, and he can feel your hardened nipples through the fabric. He chuckles. “Yes, you do. Nobody else can make you feel as good as I can. You know it. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you’re so drawn to me. On some level you know: it’s just you and me. We’re all there is, all that matters. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Law! Yes!”

His free hand effortlessly removes your shirt, and you gasp as you’re exposed to the air, your back pressing into the cold wall. He removes your bra next, letting out a soft hiss of appreciation when he finally sees them fully exposed. “As beautiful as I imagined,” he whispers, seemingly to himself. You don’t remember that line.

His mouth finds your nipple easily, sucking and nipping as you threaten to come undone under his attention. His fingers are still moving, his thumb on your clit, building the tension in your body until you feel like you’re going to explode. You’re so very close to the edge, close enough that in your pleasure you forget the next part of the story for a moment.

Until his fingers leave you.

“No!” Your head slams back into the wall as you wail, tears welling up in your eyes. Law seems unaffected, pulling back from you as he slowly inserts his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste. The only sign that you’ve shaken him is the clear strain of his cock under his jeans, desperate to be free.

His fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and he smiles at you, eyes half-lidded. “Did you think it was going to be that easy? That you would just get what you want, no questions asked?”

You whine, the sound filled with genuine despair. The room is silent for a moment as he stares at you, waiting for your next line, and you try to remember the part you’re supposed to play here. You just barely manage to grasp it, breathlessly saying, “I thought you were a better man than to leave a lady wanting.”

He slides off his tank top, revealing his beautiful tattoos to you. “Oh, honey, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need. And how wonderful it’ll be, once you’re so on edge you can barely stand it, and I finally give in to you. Can you imagine it?” He pops the button of his pants next, sensually sliding them and his boxers down to expose his bare hips. “What it’ll feel like, when I’m finally inside of you?”

His cock is finally free, bobbing in the air as it leaks with precum. He looks painfully hard, and you swallow as you briefly imagine it in your mouth. You’d give almost anything to taste him right now, but that isn’t a part of the scene.

“You’ll feel so full, honey. Imagine how good it’ll feel to cum on my cock. Isn’t that worth the wait?”

“God, yes.”

“Good girl. So agreeable.” One hand finds your hips as he uses the other to line himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, god, please.”

He slowly slides in, feeling the drag of every inch of his dick against your walls. He makes a strangled noise at the feeling, burying his face into your neck as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He stops once he’s fully sheathed in you, giving you both a moment to adjust.

And then another.

And another.

“Law?”

You can hear him chuckle against you. “What, darling?”

“Please, Law.”

He pretends to ponder whether or not to give in for a moment, keeping you in suspense, before he relents. He pulls away from your neck, revealing his extremely red face. His voice may be calm, but the rest of him cannot hide the effects you’re having. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You know the line you’re supposed to say next. She tells Sora she wants relief, wants him to move, wants anything that she can have. But you’re soft, and weak, filled with want. You cannot help but think of your dream this morning, what you were denied and what you’ve always wanted. So you speak the honest truth. “I want you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for a moment, eyes searching yours. You see your own want reflected in him, an affection that makes your chest ache. Then a smile blooms across his face, one gentler than you deserve. The line he says next is Sora’s, but what comes after is all Law. “Whatever the lady wants,” he murmurs, before his lips meet yours.

The kiss isn’t fireworks, or an all consuming flame, or any other way you’d ever heard such a thing described. It was tender, it was kind, and most importantly, it was Law. You’d never wanted anything else. It finally confirms to you that this isn’t a dream, that he’s really here, pressing you against this wall, a desire burning in him that only you can satiate. The lust is still here, the heat of your bodies intertwined, but there’s something tender and real beneath it. 

Once you both pull back, panting, you look into his eyes and know the scene is well and truly over. Now it’s just you and Law, breaths mingling and hearts pounding. He smiles at you, a nervous, delicate thing, his confidence left behind with the script. He’s breathless as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

You let out a soft, unsure laugh. “Is that Law talking, or Sora?”

He brushes his nose against yours. “It’s all me. It always has been.”

You can’t help your lovesick smile, dripping with a saccharine fondness you couldn’t hide if you tried. You meet his lips again, a kiss with a little more fire, a little more desperation. You try to convey everything you can’t say aloud: the years of yearning, the pain of thinking this moment would never come, the euphoria of learning you were wrong. Your hands press against his chest, his pulse fluttering under your fingers in unison with your own. You wrap your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him ever closer. He lets out a soft sound, almost a whimper, at the feeling of your lips against his as you clench around him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and once again the air around you grows ever hotter.

“Can I move?” There’s a whine to his voice. “Please.”

“Please do,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chests together. 

He needs no further instruction, thrusting harshly, hips rutting against yours. You can feel him struggle to hold himself back from pounding into you at a bruising pace. His hands grip your hips, his nails digging in as he clenches his teeth.

“You don’t have to hold back, Law. I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

He struggles to speak through his self control. “I want to enjoy this. I want to take my time.” Another deliberate thrust has you dragging your nails down his back, making him moan in your ear. “I want this to be as good as it can be for you.”

“This is–ahh!–already better than I’d ever dreamed, Law.”

One of his hands moves to your clit, his fingers starting a steady motion. “Not good enough,” he mutters. His lips find your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along its length, his teeth grazing your skin. You feel yourself coming close to cumming again, your voice growing louder, echoing through the room as you babble. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, the words please and more and Law are all you can say, all you can think. There is nothing in the world beyond the feeling of him against you, inside of you, his soft lips and callused hands. 

You expect him to rip away your pleasure again, but when he briefly stills, your babbles turn to sobs anyway. He pulls back to look you in the eye, take in the sight of the tears running down your face, and you can see him soften once again. His hands and hips start moving again immediately as he presses soft kisses against your cheeks, clearing away your tears.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s alright. You’re doing great. I won’t take it from you again, I promise.” His voice is filled with pity. “You’ve been so good, you can take what you want now.” He builds you back up quickly, his hips pressing into yours even faster than before. You can feel yourself about to burst, and you slam your lips into his, moaning into his mouth. The dam finally bursts, and the pleasure nearly blinds you as you clench around him, his hips struggling to keep moving with how tightly your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your orgasm is what finally makes him break, filling you to the brim as his movements stutter.

You bask in the feeling for a moment, both panting and dripping with sweat, his cock rapidly softening inside of you. Your head lolls forward, pressing into his shoulder, and you press a kiss against his sticky skin.

“Was it worth the wait?” He tries to ask the question in a teasing tone, but you can hear the insecurity underneath it.

“It was worth everything and more.” You shift to wrap your arms tighter around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

You can feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, gathering you up as he slips out of you. “Agreed.” He kisses the side of your head, an action so filled with care it nearly makes you burst into tears again. He tries to lower you onto something, making you pull him closer and whine. “I just need to set you down for a second, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

“No.” You sound like a pouting child, making you cringe, but he laughs fondly anyway.

“Alright. A few more minutes. But I have to clean you up eventually, and then we need to find a place a bit more private to settle in, don’t you think? Or at least somewhere more comfortable.”

You hum quietly, pressing your nose further into him. You can worry about logistics in a few minutes. Right now you just want to bask in his warmth, in this dream turned reality, in the absolute joy of your feelings being reciprocated. “I really didn’t think you liked me,” you mutter sleepily. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“I could say the same,” he murmurs into your hair.

You laugh. “Shachi and Peng are going to be so smug about this.”

“They are?”

“They’ve been trying to tell me for years, and they don’t get to tell me I told you so very often.”

“They were telling you too?” He laughs. “We could have done this months ago if we’d just believed them.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes starting to slip shut. “You’re worth the wait, though.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as his hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back, luring you further into sleep. “Yeah. So are you.”

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay 

[yourislandgirl]

⍣*°:⋆ THIS AIN’T NO PHASE ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ || OT7 엔하이픈 x fem!reader || headcanons

summary: how enhypen would act as reader’s down bad classmate

genre: fluff, romance, non-idol!enhypen x non-idol!reader, somewhat high school au except it’s not that in-depth, lowkey enha as simps

warnings: can’t think of anything major, attempts at humour, intentional lowercase btw

[archive]

・❥・ 희승 // heeseung

totally the show off type, he sneaks glances at you after he accomplishes something on the first try to make sure you noticed (will end up sulking for like an hour if you were looking elsewhere)

learns new skills just to show you, like you’ll offhandedly mention something about the bass guitar in a new viral song and within a week he’ll have learnt it by sneaking into the school’s music room and using their bass. he has no clue when, if ever, he’ll get the chance to show you, but if that time comes, he’ll be prepared

definitely the kind of guy that likes testing the waters with pick up lines and lowkey flirting, he also knows he’s attractive — which is always bad news when the guy knows — so he would totally give you a beautiful smile and a corny joke of some kind, his eyes darting back and forth to study your reaction

never wanted to make a fool of himself around you until the one time he embarrassed himself a little and you let out the most enchanting laugh, he swears the skies parted. from then on, it didn’t always matter to him how he looked and presented himself, he became less critical of himself, because if he could make you smile, or better yet, laugh? that would make his day

more under cut!

・❥・ 종성 // jay

much more of a conversationalist than you’d expect — totally starts unprompted conversations on various topics just to hear your perspective and he always asks for your opinion because it means the most to him, except . sometimes you have no opinion on some of the things he asks, so there’s just this odd silence afterwards

will usually have homecooked meals that he makes himself or has leftovers from super expensive restaurants that your other classmates have been waiting months to get a reservation to, and he always shares that food with you, like your entire friend group would get their share but he’d save the best part for you and he always asks if you liked it afterwards because he's storing that information away for potential future dates

there are far too many times he “accidentally” bought an extra snack or dessert from the cafeteria and, well, we wouldn’t want that to go to waste now, would we? so he’ll just casually slide it over to you, like it’s the most normal thing to do

very acts of service, all you’d need to do is just grumble under your breath about your pen being shitty and almost out of ink and he’s bringing out his two best pens and handing them to you. or say you guys are doing an experiment in your chemistry class, he’s immediately getting all the equipment, you don’t need to move at all, (oh, but, he loves following your lead for the actual experiment — the kind of guy that goes “whatever you wanna do”, to which you’d reply “um, technically it’s not up to me, jay. if we do these steps out of order, we could blow up the classroom” . “oh, right”)

・❥・ 재윤 // jake

really giggly around you, like, really giggly. everything you say is hilarious to this man. stand up comedy who? he’d actually be so amusing about it too, like bro is randomly chuckling in a class where you’re not even there, just because he remembered something you said

he once tried the move of asking you for help in class. except you rightfully pointed out that he knew much more about the current topic than you did, you had no idea what he expected to learn from you — he then realised the better option is to ask you if he can double check his work or “compare notes”

the first time he caught a mistake/typo in your work, he felt a little bad for pointing it out, but he quickly came to appreciate the clear view of your concentration face when you tried to redo your answer. he'll be constantly flicking his gaze up and back down, trying to keep his eyes on his notebook but ends up tapping his pen against the empty page while he admires the way you furrow your brows while you think

always asks if you’re coming to the school’s soccer game (or football, i guess, i’m australian and we call it soccer) anyway, he spends like five minutes before every game dedicated for scanning the crowd to see if you’re there — if you do ever decide to go, know that your presence is completely unrelated to how he just so happened to score the most goals out of his team . completely

・❥・ 성��� // sunghoon

stares a lot, but he naturally zones out in class (to the point where teachers ask why he’s staring off into space) so you don’t always question it, except it’s clearly the best excuse he has to keep staring at you

not really outspoken but he definitely would be the type to mutter the most cringe fail jokes to the people around him and takes it as a personal victory every time you scoff out a small chuckle, has a mental list of the kinds of jokes you find funny because man is studying the trends to come up with new material

without realising, he would end up having your schedule memorised, and would totally use that knowledge to his advantage. say your science class is before his — bro is bolting out the door to get to the classroom in time to say a quick “hi” before you leave, he does it so often that you’re convinced he has PE before science, because there’s no other explanation for why every time you see him, this guy is winded like he finished a race (except for the fact that he ran halfway across the school campus for a five second interaction)

would be heavily invested in whatever you take an interest in, he doesn’t even have to understand it, he just wants to know about it because of you. say you’re current interest is modernist literature, he’d snag the perfect opportunity to ask you to explain it to him and let you ramble to your hearts content while he stares at you with the most soft expression, and he isn’t zoning out this time, he’s just pleasantly distracted by the view

・❥・ 선우 // sunoo

would be the type to find the smallest common interest and be convinced that it means your destined to be. like, you could mention something in passing like a show or something, and if he stumbles across it in his recommendations? dude is ecstatic . because what do you mean the universe just happened to show him the exact piece of media you’re obsessed with? (you’re not, it’s literally your most casual interest, but bro is convinced)

he wouldn’t hesitate to compliment you, like he would openly admire your hair if you do something new with it, or if he hears you talk about the new earrings you’re wearing he’d turn around to look at them and give you that nod of approval and say something about how it frames your face nicely, zero shame in what others would think from his forwardness

more subdued when it’s just the two of you, he usually rants about whatever random shenanigans are going on around your school, things that he’s heard or seen, usually retold with editorial humour and a lot of sidebar comments that you wouldn’t be able to help but laugh at, definitely keeps adding to the joke until your sides are hurting from laughing together, he probably has it marked in his calendar on the day he made you laugh so hard your eyes shone with tears a little bit (an achievement in his books)

more subtle when it comes to something as risky as asking you out, he’d try and play it off as simply recommending a certain cafe or a certain movie and if he just so happened to imply that you two should go together, well, that was just out of politeness, of course … unless?

・❥・ 정원 // jungwon

spits out random facts and genuinely believes that they’re the stepping stone to developing a relationship with you (while you sit there confused, because how do the surprise donuts your teacher brought even remotely relate to camels and their ability to drink 200L of water in three minutes??)

i think he would like trying to create a routine with you, something familiar, something that will remind you of him — maybe if you guys sit near each other, he’d always take both your workbooks to the teacher out front for you. or if there’s this special dessert at your cafeteria that he knows you like, he’ll split it with you every time it’s offered. he seems like the type that would find reminders of you in even the smallest of things so he just wishes to create a connection where you’ll feel the same

always sends you the notes when you’re missing from class, his notes aren’t exactly the neatest but they are funny. he adds like little doodles and comments (mostly for himself tbh, he'd add things like “just think of integration as differentiation’s older brother” in the margins of his maths notes or something). honestly, he had considered rewriting them neatly for you, but after you initiated a conversation about the mutilation of a portrait he did of your teacher, well, he figured any chance to talk to you wouldn’t hurt

the kind of guy who will try and send you signals through music and song lyrics, like if you post a certain song on your story, he’d pick the same song but choose a different lyric to play on his story, something more romantically coded. or if you talk about a new artist you’re listening too, he’ll find their most romantic song and say that’s his favourite and asks you listen because he thinks you’ll like it

・❥・ 리키 // ni-ki

very quiet, you’d probably think he was mute if it wasn’t for his low acknowledgment of presence when the teacher takes the attendance. the biggest rush he gets out of his day is when he says a couple words to you in your shared classes. it would always be really quick conversations too, he’d mutter about the teacher being uptight, or complain about the worksheet being printed in black and white instead of in colour, or ask you if you’re cold before getting up to shut the window next to your desks — small, but meaningful

the type to walk up and down the same hallway five times before working up the courage to enter the room you’re in. if you asked him why he did that he’d straight up be like “that wasn’t me. anyway…” adksajd so it’s safe to say he seems a little odd but charming and he’s counting on that charm to help him pull through and land at least a movie date

super competitive in PE class and it’s like a switch will flip and he’s suddenly more suave and confident when he’s in that element so expect a lot of random sidebar conversations while you guys do warm up stretches, he’d totally be the kind of guy to walk past you and drop one of the water bottles near you before walking off to his friends, definitely brushes his hair back like twenty times, gives unsolicited advice on how you can throw better or kick better or whatever it is depending on the sport, you’d be like “[raised eyebrow] i still scored didn’t i?” and he’d backtrack so fast it would be hilarious

has definitely sketched you before, let’s be real. half the time he spends in art class is sketching you in his personal sketchbook — he’d be smart enough to not draw your face (at least in the book he brings to school), it would be something like your side profile but it’s off centre so any other person would think the main focus of his sketch is the window which you sit beside, but to him, the main focus is you. he’d sketch anything he associates with you too, say for example if you mentioned your favourite flower just casually, he’d have a whole page dedicated to various sketches of that flower, no one else would really be able to tell what all his sketches mean, they’re like puzzle pieces that only you’d be able to put together

a.n: this took a while (been so distracted by numerous diff fandoms and a little sad bcs of mama awards but wtv) this is dedicated to my lovely mootie @sheepsgf !! the indescribable beauty that was jungwon’s solo intro in mama will forever live in my head btw, but i figured i’ve done three posts for won already aksjdjs time to do an ot7 one bcs i love them all and they’ve worked so hard !!

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf

2024 © yourislandgirl

[usomads]

Can you write one where reader is being bratty gets punished by Roman and Jey?

Tag Team // Roman Reigns x Jey Uso x Reader

Author’s Note -> Lordddd, I had so much fun writing this 🤭 I decided to experiment a lil bit with this one so I hope y'all enjoy! Happy reading!

Plot -> You had an idea to get the attention of the two cousins, but what you ended up getting was far better than you’d ever imagined…

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Jey Uso x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Oral Sex (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Choking, Threesome, Spanking, Restraints, Unprotected P in V, Double Penetration, Double Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.0k

“Where. The. Fuck. Are. You. Y/N,” Joe gritted through his teeth, his phone on speaker so Josh could hear. “You’re supposed to be here. You know the other two aren’t cleared, Paul’s missing, so we fuckin’ need you at ringside for this tag match. Now where are you?”

“Calm down, hot stuff, I’m getting ready right now,” you teased hearing Joe and Josh groan in frustration. “I’ll get there when I wanna get there, mmkay? You both need me, I don’t need you. So I’ll show up whenever I please.” Your history with the Bloodline was a complicated one, especially between the Tribal Chief and his former Right Hand Man. You had crossed paths every once in a while, the group knowing that keeping one of the most dominant women’s wrestlers in the company in their back pocket did them many favors, and you knowing the other girls in the locker room wouldn’t get any ideas and try to step to you and your WWE Women’s Championship. It was a mutual partnership, a transactional endeavor, and good business. 

You hear the phone shuffling a bit before hearing Josh speak up. “Aye, uce. Ion know what’s got into you, but you better watch who the fuck you talkin’ to like that.” “Make me. Oh wait, you can’t.” You laughed mockingly into the speaker. “Y/N, if you don’t-” “Shut the fuck up, Josh,” Joe growled, “and you too, Miss Y/N. Treading on thin ice, baby girl, you gon’ fuck around and find out if you ain’t careful. Now get your ass here, right now, ‘fore me and Josh gotta step in. Got it?”

“Oh no, I’m so scared… c’mon Joe, you can do better than that.” Joe went to respond but not before you hung up on him, putting your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ before walking through security and making your way to wardrobe to pick up your new gear and get ready for the night. You hadn’t told the two, but you were wearing new gear. You usually wore black with silver or gold accents, but tonight you wanted to switch it up, by wearing their usual color- red. You were handed your bottoms and top, unfolding them and holding them out to look. It wasn’t anything flashy, both the bottoms and top were black with sheer and leather sections, but what stood out was the droplet outlines filled in with red stones to give the illusion of blood. You hurriedly ran to change, excited to see what it looked like and you weren’t disappointed. The droplet details were stunning, the bottoms and top fit the contours of your body perfectly, the mix of leather and sheer gave you an edgy but sexy look; needless to say you looked hot. And you could not wait to see Joe and Josh’s reactions. 

The two of them never could quite hide their attraction to you. Between Joe raking his eyes up and down your body as you spoke to him and Josh taking every opportunity he could to stare at your ass, you had known for a while that they had ‘not-so innocent’ intentions with you, and you were dying to provoke them into action. You had given subtle hints over the past few weeks and all failed, which meant you had to step it up big time. If talking back to them and being there at ringside wearing practically nothing wasn’t gonna do it, you didn't know what would. You finished touching your makeup and hair and thanked them for their help as you went to gorilla position, getting there right after Jey and Roman entered for their match so you weren’t seen by them. They finally made it to the ring and stared down Tama Tonga and Tonga Loa, and the ref starts the match. Right after he does, you make your entrance and hear the crowd roar for you. Joe, who is on the apron as the non-legal man, sees you saunter your way to ringside and his expression turns dark. You make it to the ring, leaning on the apron as you rest your weight on your elbows, right next to Joe. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Joe whispers at you, his eyes watching the light reflect off the bedazzled droplets on your top. “What?” You smile at him innocently, “I said I’d be here, so I’m here.” “Wearing th-, you know what? We’ll talk about this later.” Josh looks up and notices you, eyes widening as he takes in the revealing gear you’re wearing. He makes eye contact with Joe, who nods at him. Josh comes to the corner Joe is standing at to rest for a moment, and to talk to the two of you. “Oh, look who decided to show up, and what the fuck you wearing?” Josh muttered loud enough for you and Joe to hear. “I’m trying something new. What, you don’t like it?” You look up at him and bat your lashes, teasingly shaking your ass much to the crowd's enjoyment. His eyes flicker briefly to watch, before settling back to your face and giving a look of warning. “Hey!” Joe snaps at the two of you, “we got a fuckin’ match to worry about. We’ll deal with this shit later, ight?” You and Josh nod and Joe slaps Josh on the shoulder, tagging himself in. You use this moment to make your way over to Tonga Loa and Tama Tonga’s side of the ring, swaying your hips as you walk. You feel eyes, Josh’s eyes, staring a hole into your backside and smirk, engaging with the crowd as you do so. You grab Tonga’s attention almost immediately, getting him down from the apron and taking him over to the announce table, which you sit down on and allow him to stand between your legs. Your distraction is working, as Josh and Joe are imposing their will on Tama and setting him up for a finisher. They hit Tama with it and end the match, but their eyes are trained on you as you have your arms around Tonga’s neck and let him touch your thighs and hips right in front of them. They exit the ring and pull him off of you, beating him down outside the ring while you sneak off and race out of the arena before they can get to you first.

Somehow you made it to your hotel before they realized you were missing, but as soon as they did, the pair immediately started blowing your phone up. Calls, texts, voice messages, you name it, they were doing it. You had never seen Joe or Josh this upset before, and it turned you on so much. You were laid in bed, the oversized t-shirt you were wearing riding up as you rubbed your pussy through your panties thinking about how hot they looked while fuming at you during the match. Your actions are interrupted by a loud rapping at the door, and you know exactly who it is. “Y/N, we know you’re in there. Open the fuckin’ door. Now.” Josh demanded on the other side of the door. You peeked through the peephole at them both, feeling a fuzzy feeling in your stomach knowing your plan was working. 

Joe ushered Josh to the side, pulling out his wallet. “It’s alright, uce. We gave her a chance. If she wants to play games…” he pulls out a card, “she’s gon’ learn that we can play ‘em just a little bit better,” he slides the card into the keycard slot, and the lock buzzes to unlock the door. Shit. How the fuck-

You back away as the door slams open, the two men barging into your hotel room. Your eyes widen at their abrupt entrance, but have no time to think about it as Josh grabs you by the throat and pushes your back to the wall. “You think you can play with us, huh? You think you’re cute ‘n shit, talkin’ back to us, walkin’ out and sittin’ ringside basically butt ass naked, and then…” he squeezes your throat, making your head fall back as you groan, “you make us watch while another motherfucker puts his hands on you?” You whimper at his touch, not trusting your own voice as he asks you a question. “Oh, what’s the matter, princess, you were talkin’ like such a big girl earlier and now you can’t fuckin’ speak? Huh?”

“Answer him, Y/N, he’s not gon’ ask you again.” Joe demanded. “B-because,” you breathed in, opening your eyes to stare directly into Josh’s as you spoke, “I wanted t-to see what y-you two would do about it.” You smirked at Josh, his eyes somehow darkening even more and growling under his breath. “Uce, whatchu think?” Josh asked the man behind him, who had been staring you down this entire exchange. “Ion know ‘bout you, but if you ain’t gon’ do somethin’ ‘bout her then I wi-”

“Yo, slow down,” Joe puts a hand on Josh’s shoulder, pulling him away and taking his place as he lifts your chin. “You wanna act like a fuckin’ brat, Y/N? Talkin’ back to me, ignoring my calls, walkin��� around with your tits and ass showing through your gear like we wouldn’t notice? Baby girl, you want us, you fuckin’ got us. And we gon’ make sure you lose that fuckin’ attitude.” He growled.

“Oh yeah?” You raised your eyebrows at him, “I’d like to see you try.” 

Joe, without warning, takes you by the wrist and sits in the chair near your bed and strips you of your shirt, leaving you in just your panties. He bends you over his knee to reveal your round ass, kneading the soft skin and making you whimper in response to him. “Nah, nah, nah. You ain’t gon’ start whinin’ now, you wanna be a bad girl? You gon’ get treated like one. Now count, mess up imma start all the way over. Understand?” 

“Yes… yes, Daddy,” you breathed out. Joe moans at the name and delivers the first slap to your ass, and you wince. “1…” he delivers another, the pain fading into pleasure with each one, “2…” he rubs the skin of your ass cheeks as your wetness begins to soak through your panties and onto his joggers. 

“Oh, you love this shit, don’t you? Such a fuckin’ slut for me, dripping on me like that,” you moan louder as he delivers another slap, continuing your count. “You want Josh to have his turn first? Let him fuck you then when he’s done he’ll pass you to me? Is that what you want?” He delivers another smack to your ass. “5… f-fuck yes, please.” He gets through another 5 spankings, you keeping count and crying out for each one. Your ass is sore and definitely red, but Joe lifts you off of him and you slowly walk over to Josh, who is standing at the foot of the bed in just his boxers. Joe leans back in the chair and palms himself as he watches you two, Josh pushing you down to your knees so you can suck his dick. You remove him from his boxers and immediately get to work, hollowing your cheeks around him as you take him further and further down your throat. Josh throws his head back and grabs your hair, letting you work his cock in your mouth as he moans your name. Your head bobs up and down, picking up the pace with his moans encouraging you to keep going. He gets lost in the pure pleasure you’re providing and begins thrusting into your mouth, fucking it as the movement of your head meets his thrusts. You have tears streaming down your face as you take him inch by inch, feeling him twitch in your throat and gagging around him. He releases himself from your mouth. 

“Hands and knees, ma. On the bed.” You stand and climb onto the mattress as he smacks your ass, you moaning at the contact. Josh gets behind you and removes your thong, slowly dragging it off of your body as he takes in your glistening pussy. “Fuck, uce, she’s fuckin’ drippin f’us. He leans down and licks through your folds, letting his tongue massage you at a fast pace, you moaning his name in response. He eats you for a moment, giving Joe a show as you writhe at the hands of him and his mouth on your aching pussy. Once he sees you’re ready for him he stops what he’s doing, taking his cock and rubbing along your entrance, mixing his pre-cum with your wetness before slamming into you and grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail. The quick snap of his hips makes you cry out as he fucks you deep. Tears are again pricking at your eyes, as you grab the sheets and scream his name. Josh smacks your ass again as he pounds into you, hitting your spot with ease. Your body begins to shake as you inch closer to your orgasm, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. “O-oh fuck, mmm, I’m s-so close. Please-”

“Yo, uce, you think she deserve that shit?” Josh asks Joe as he continues to slam into you. You look over at Joe, who is pumping his cock watching you. He thinks for a moment, before responding. “Not yet,” you whine as he continues, “bring her over here, lemme get her real quick.” Josh obeys, pulling out of you and helping you up, walking you to where Joe sat. You stood before him, fully exposed. “Turn around f’me, and put your hands behind your back.” You hesitate but oblige as Joe grabs his belt from the armrest and creates makeshift handcuffs around your wrists, tightening them so you can’t escape. He then turns you around and pulls you down to make you eye level with his cock. You take him in your hands and wrap your lips around his tip, looking up at him as you suck on it and bring your head lower on his dick, forcing you to choke on it. “Fuck, ma, get up here. Sit on my lap, babygirl.” He helps you up and moves you to straddle him, guiding you to sink down on him, and you hear him talking to Josh. “C’mere, uce, and get behind her. Y/N,” he looked at you, “you ever take two dicks at once?” You shake your head ‘no’, and he gives Josh a smirk before responding, “well, today’s your lucky day, babygirl.” And with that Josh arches your back to lift your ass in the air and slowly pushes his way into it. You don’t even have the words to describe this feeling. You feel full, and like you’re seconds away from being ripped in half. The two men begin slow thrusts inside of you and you can barely take it, it feels so good. They begin to pick up their rhythm and you begin bouncing to it, the three of you letting out a chorus of moans as you fuck each other. The three of you find your rhythm, allowing yourselves to speed up and hit deeper than before. Joe pulls you by the neck and your lips connect in a sloppy kiss, both of you moaning into each others’ mouths as you fight for dominance over each other. 

“Fuck, Y/N, so goddamn tight. Squeezin’ my shit. I- I’m close, baby. Want me to fill your ass up full of my cum? Hmm?” Josh moans and you nod frantically. “F-fuckkk yes, please, babyyyy. Need it so fuckin’ bad, cum for me..” Josh’s dick twitches inside of you at your words as he fills you up, riding it out before he pulls out and steps back. Joe lifts you by the thighs, still bottomed out inside your pussy, and lays you on the mattress on your back, lifting your legs and placing them on his shoulders. He leans his body weight over you and drills your pussy, fucking you hard enough for you to see stars and grip the sheets as tight as you can. You’re screaming Joe’s name as he grunts in your ear. “Holy s-shittt, Joe, I’m gonna-” “Hold it. You learn your lesson, huh? You gon’ be good for us from now on? No more of that bratty ass shit?” “Y-yes, I- I’ll be good, please, Joe, I-” “Go ‘head baby, I’m there. Cum all over this cock f’me. Let Josh see your pretty face as you let go.” Josh leans down and kisses you hard, full of passion as he slips his tongue in your mouth. Josh’s lips on your is the catalyst, reaching your peak as your body tenses and convulses as you let go. Joe follows suit, filling your pussy full of his cum as he continues to fuck you through both of your orgasms. He pulls out, catching his breath and laying on the bed with you and Josh now. Silence fills the air as the three of you stare at the ceiling, catching your breath until you speak up.

“Wow, that was, um…”

“Holy shit, that was insane,” Josh said, the three of you chuckling. “You got no idea how long we been wantin’ to do that shit witchu.”

“So.. you’re saying I should piss y’all off more often if I want that again? Shit, I can definitely make that happen.” You settle in between the two men, too sore to move any other way as Joe turns off the lights and the three of you drift off to sleep together.

[auroracalisto]

opposites attract, or so they say

simon x gn!reader, 1.9k words summary: simon's got a crush on the sweet little thing down the street. a/n: I love him. I love kyle gallner. send help. tw: lots of cussing but it's mostly because I went with simon's pov and ran with it, simon is buzzed, brief mention of sexual content but like nothing other than the idea

Simon was a lot of things.

Angry. Vile. Crude. A badass punk rocker.

But there was something more to him than just that. There was something deep within him that screamed for release, that just wanted to be a part of his world just as much as the rest of him.

And that, which it's far more simple than you might think, was the need to be loved.

His family was shit. That was a given. Never once looked at him like they were proud of him, which for what it was worth, he couldn't give a shit.

His bandmates were fucking righteous, but what the fuck's that got to do with anything? Love from a bandmate? Right. Weird as fuck. This wasn't one of those half-assed teen romcoms where the drummer fell in love with the lead singer. He'd rather vomit in front of an entire set than have his drummer fall in "love" with him.

And then, there was you. That bitch down the block that made him question anything and everything. Just looking at you made him feel things that he wasn't used to, and it infuriated him.

Sure, maybe he wanted to be loved, but by you? Sweet, little Y/n who'd never had a bad thought in your life? For fucks sake, it was as if the universe was laughing at him!

The universe was always laughing at him.

But who cares? He was in a punk ass band, he always stuck it to the Man, and when it mattered most, his bandmates showed up when others didn't.

But you were always on his mind.

Shit.

He was down bad for you. There was no way around it.

Standing outside your doorstep, half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips, he knocked rather loudly. If you didn't answer, he'd just leave. God, he hoped you didn't answer. The cherry wine coolers he'd had just moments before weren't doing much to settle his nerves.

Why the fuck was he even nervous?

It wasn't like it was the first time he'd been around you. Hell, he'd smoked a cigarette or three on your doorstep, complaining about anything and everything as you drank a soda, a coffee, or one of those cheap wine coolers he brought you.

It wasn't like he didn't know you.

There's a pause as he sucks in a deep breath of smoke, and the door opens to reveal you. In your pajamas like a good little samaritan, ready for bed at 10 in the evening.

Simon silently scolded himself. Of course you were ready for bed. A goody-two-shoes who most definitely wasn't waiting up for some kind of divine inspiration for a new song. Who wasn't waiting up for some kind of alcohol to finally kick in.

You blinked slowly at him. You knew him—not as well as you would like to, but you knew him. You had a history class together back in high school, and while you weren't that teenager from way back when, you still remember the inkling of a crush you had on him. You knew him way better then than you did, now.

Ethics be damned, am I right?

"Simon?"

Your voice was so soft, so sweet. He just wanted to turn around and walk away, to avoid you so he wouldn't taint you like he wanted to.

Dammit.

"Hey, Y/n," he said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it beneath his boots. "You, uh, got a minute?"

You blinked slowly but gave a small nod, stepping out onto the porch. You closed the door behind you to keep the cool air from going in. Your arms crossed over your chest and you watched Simon closely before he spoke. It wasn't the first time you had done this.

You stood barefoot in front of him, the cold concrete a not-so-welcome addition to the conversation.

"Look," he began. "I, uh, just wanted to—well, fuck, I don't know what I wanted to—"

He was a blabbering mess. What the fuck was this? He was confident, but around you, it was as if every little bit of his brazenness melted away.

"You, me, bar tomorrow night, yeah?" he blurted.

Simple. To the point. Far less embarrassing than what happened just moments prior.

Your eyes widened, and he can see the gears turning in your pretty mind. But you didn't seem adverse.

You smiled a bit. "What bar?"

He blinked slowly. "What bar? The fuck—uh," he looked over his shoulder, clearing his throat. "Sure. Why the fuck not? Bar on Main Street."

"Will I meet you there?"

He scrunched his nose. "Yeah. Meet me there."

"Cool. What time?"

He blinked slowly. "Time? Fucks sake, Y/n, you ask a hell of a lot of questions," he said, snorting softly. "Let's, uh, say nine? Or is that too late for you?" He eyed your warm pajamas.

"I'll be there," you said.

He perked up a bit before he looked you up and down one more time. "Fucking right," he said. "Be there." He took a step back, nearly faltering on the first step of your porch, but then he turned away and without another word, left you behind.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn't stupid. He was smart in his own ways, sure, but what the actual fuck was that?

Girls threw themselves at his feet, especially when he was John Q. Guys did too, in their own ways—hell, he had one guy one time tell him he'd give him a blowjob if he looked at him for longer than five seconds.

He almost took him up on the offer. But that was nearly a year ago, and the way you looked at him tonight made his heart melt in the confines of his beaten chest.

Dammit all, what the fuck was he doing?

Love. What the hell would love give him that he couldn't get from some random fucker down the street?

What in the ever-loving hell was he doing?

Nine o'clock on the dot, he was there at the bar on Main.

Down bad. He knew it, too. Even canceled his band practice just to come and see you. His drummer had nearly cussed him out, but Simon didn't give a shit.

He went straight to the bar and ordered a beer, downing half of it in the first few seconds of having it.

When he felt a hand on his arm, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked down, seeing you standing there. You actually came. You weren't pulling his dick, you actually showed up.

His heart pounded nervously in his chest. Shit. When was the last time he was actually this nervous?

"Y/n," he said.

You smiled up at him. Did anyone ever tell you how pretty your smile was?

What. The. Fuck.

"You said nine, right?" you asked. "I'm avoiding my pajamas just for you."

Just for him. Fuuuck.

You were cute.

He shoots a cheeky grin, leaning against the bar counter. He could be suave. He could be confident and not seem as needy as he felt. The pyro was more than capable.

But for some reason, he didn't feel like lying to you. He didn't feel like joking around, or trying to show you something that simply wasn't true.

He'd loved you since that stupid class back in high school—the one with Mr. Fuck-face and that terrible toupee. You had been so nice to him, while everyone else had treated him like a parasite. Not that he blamed them. He knew what he was.

He cleared his throat and looked around the bar. Maybe it hadn't been the best place to ask you to, but the alcohol definitely would help at some point.

"Yeah. I said nine," he said.

You ordered a drink. He doesn't listen to what you say to the bartender. He's staring you down, eyeing you like a fine choice of meat. Fuck, you were, though. Every inch of you was like heaven to him.

Maybe it wasn't love he wanted. Maybe it was just lust that kept him in a chokehold.

Besides, he hardly knew you. Knew you briefly in high school, but the fuck's that matter? How long has it been since the two of you graduated?

Long enough.

Long enough for everything to change, except for him, apparently.

"How've you been?"

Your voice drew him out of his thoughts. He looked at you, blinking slowly, before he shrugged.

"Busy," he said.

"You still playing?"

He blinked slowly. "Huh?"

"In high school. You had a band. You still playing?"

You remembered that? Shit.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm still playing. We play a couple gigs here and there."

Your eyes widened. "Really? Where do you play?"

"Wherever we can get a spot. You, uh, should totally come out to hear it some time."

You smiled immediately. "I would love to," you said.

He stared you down. Either you were lying or you were one of the fuckers who he knew he'd never get enough of. It's looking like it would be the latter.

He looked away from you, taking a swig of his beer.

"You think that—"

He interrupted you, slamming his beer onto the counter. "Look," he said rather quickly. "I don't know what it is, but I need you to take me seriously for a second."

You blinked slowly. "Yeah. What's up?"

He clenched his jaw as he looked at you. He wasn't angry with you—nah, he was angry with himself. Not talking to you sooner, not kissing your pretty mouth, not—

"I think you're fucking tits," he said, taking hold of you by your shoulders. "I'm not about to sit here and tell you I love you, because I don't, but for fuck's sake, I want you more than I've wanted anything in my entire life."

Okay. Lie number one. Starting off strong. But how could you love someone if you didn't truly know who they were? Guess it wasn't really a lie. It just... was a half truth, if that.

Your eyes are wide as you stared up at him. "What?"

"I want—" he began, letting out a labored breath. "I want you. Okay? There. Fuck. I said it."

"You... you want me? How?"

He snorted softly at your question. "I want you in every fuckin' way imaginable, Y/n."

He said nothing more, leaving it up for your interpretation, but clearly, by the way he was looking at you, it was obvious.

"Simon—"

"Nah, don't," he said. "If you're gonna protest, I don't want to hear it."

"I'm not gonna protest—"

"—I've had enough people tell me they don't want me, and it pisses me off."

"But I—"

"—I'm serious, Y/n."

"Simon. I'm not protesting," you said defensively. "I—I feel the same way."

He blinked slowly at you, like he didn't just hear you correctly.

"What?" he asked.

"I like you," you said. "Have for a while now."

"You..."

"Yeah. I do," you said.

"Well shit," he breathed out, looking down at you. "Well that was easier than I thought it would be."

He pulled on a cheeky grin, and those pretty eyes of his bored into yours.

"You should kiss me," you said, smiling up at him.

"The fuck?" he let out a curt laugh, but he took you up on the offer. A hand moved to the back of your neck, and his lips pressed to yours almost instantaneously.

Fuuck, he'd wanted to do this shit for ages. Why the hell didn't he ask you sooner?

[ughdontbeboring]

Sweet boy

Feyd Rautha x WoC Reader (can be read by anyone)

Yours and Feyds son has a moment and you can’t help your reaction.

warnings none but fluff honestly lol

note: so this was NOT what I was supposed to be working on but I came across it in my notes and just couldn’t stop my fingers 😅 but this is inspired by one of my favorite Feyd arts of him as a child. I’m so upset I can’t find it or the artist. It’s like different drawings of him or his face as a child and he gives the meanest side eye lol so if yall know what im talking about please send it my way so i can tag the artist so others can see it.

If yall like it, love it or fucks with it please share and comment! I love talking to y’all about our mans.

I give no permission for my work to be used anywhere.

it’s fluff and short babe but it’s Feyd so you know 😭 @peggyao3 also again not what I’m supposed to be working on 🥲🥲🥲

x

x

⚔️

The day had been long and tedious but you would not trade it for anything when it dwindles down to become this kind of evening. One which you were lucky to say you had often when your husband wasn’t away for diplomatic purposes. Even then you usually all stayed together more often than not. 

The large tinted floor to ceiling windows on the right side of the dinning room allowing for a view of the planets setting white sun to shine its last bit of light on your blessed life. The tint allowed the room to stay bathed in all its natural colors. Your skins hue still vibrant against the elegant black dress that you had chosen for the day. 

You couldn’t wait to get back to your shared bedchambers and slip into nothing but your silk bed sheets and your husbands arms.

Your eyes drift back to the table you’re seated at with the two loves of your life. Years ago no one could have convinced you THIS would be your life and you’d be the HAPPIEST you’d ever been or could be. None of the of wise women of your home planet could have foretold this. Not even your own visions nor dreams could have conjured enough to convince you this was the life you wouldn’t only lead but love with every once of your being. 

But when you take in your husbands jewel blue eyes that are already watching and only soft for you, you smile happily before your eyes slowly land on the beautiful boy sitting before you and to Feyd’s right from the head of the table.  

And just as your heart swells with more love than either you and Feyd ever thought possible, a loud laugh erupts from deep within your chest. 

You slap a jeweled hand over your mouth to try and contain your laughing from the startled identical faces before you. 

You’re in a fit of giggles as you feel both your husband and son’s look of confusion and it only makes you laugh harder.

You miss your husband’s face of pure awe at the sight before him even if he is confused he can’t help but be in awe of the women he somehow convinced to love him as deeply as you do, full of joy.

You wipe at the tears that have started to spill as you catch Feyd soft questioning eyes.

“I-I’m sorry but he looked just like you with his little evil side eye” you reveal in between laughs. 

Feyd looks on proudly at your son who’s looking between the both of you with his face scrunched up not fully understanding or liking the attention and laughs at his expense. 

Your son had just gave the most evil side eye to the servant who put the extra vegetables on his plate at your request. And all you could see was Feyd. They looked almost identical already and in that moment it was your husband who was a 5 year old boy not wanting to eat the food before him. 

And for all the reasons in the world it made your heart happy. 

“Looking just like your father” you say again as you control your laughing. You can feel the pride rolling of off both of them. “A grumpy baby”. 

“What?!” Your husband yells in disbelief, the fork and meat hanging mid air the same time your son yells his own defense.

“Mother I AM NOT A BABY!” His little voice rages before you with no true anger. 

“Don’t raise your voice at your mother” Feyd scolds quickly.

Your all smiles though. This was all you ever needed. 

“Yes you are, you are my baby always” You tell him as you take in his little face, the beautiful child you both created. The best of both of you. 

He huffs and crosses his little arms across his chest. The angry face he’s trying to pull off is completely identical to his father’s. You could draw it in your sleep the amount of times you’ve seen it over the years.

“Come here” you call to him softly as you push your chair back slightly. 

“No” he says trying to stand his ground that he is not a baby.

“Do not tell your mother no” Feyd scolds again watching the two of you go back and forth with eyes full of love.  if your husband continues on this path and your sure he will, none of your children will ever tell you no or misbehave with you. Feyd has spoiled you almost rotten, your son has received the same attention from his father. The amount of times he’s done wrong and Feyd has come to his defense, you too but you always stress the he can’t be quick to anger.

He had nothing of yours physically expect for you spiced blue eyes, which you weren’t sure how long they last so blue without a constant exposure to spiced air. You were born to parents who were born to parents and so on and so on for as long as you could say who had been born to and live with spice exposure. It was literally apart of your blood. So it made you happy that was the one thing that couldn’t escape your son who spent most of his time on Giedi Prime. So it made you sad to think about the fact that he could loose it one day but you tried to make frequent enough trips to your home planet to help him keep his Fremen feature and traits. 

Feyd allowed him to be born on Arrakis much to a lot of displeasure from some of Giedi Prime. You just couldn’t see giving birth here and raising a child here almost full time, you needed your people, your culture to be apart of his life. Plus you both knew it was the only way for your son to be accepted, he needed to embrace both half’s of who he was if he was going to make a great change one day. Greater change than even you and Feyds union.

It was worth noting all of the people who were displeased with your birthing choice weren’t around anymore to speak on it. 

His personality? It was 60/40 usually, him always leaning towards his father’s ways of behavior especially right now. Right now he was 100% his father’s child. 

“Come here my sweet boy” you call again. 

“Mother I am not a sweet boy! I’m brave and scary” He says as he makes his way around the back of Feyd towards you, very slowly. The posture straight in his small body. 

You pull him in quickly once he is in arms reach. Your hands hold his little precious face gently as you plant kisses all over. You can feel his posture slowly start to loosen.

“Yes you are, you may not be sweet to others that is yet to be seen but you will always be sweet to your mother yes?” You ask softly as you stare into his deep eyes that mirror yours. 

You hear a small but confident “Yes, always Mother” as all the fight leaves him and he snuggles into your body embracing you back fully. His little arms reaching around your neck and squeezing tightly. Your eyes tear a little and you know it’s just your hormones. You have a couple weeks before your due it’s still been an emotional roller coaster everyday. 

You’re so wrapped up in your little boy in your arms you don’t notice your husband. Feyd is over the moon seeing his child get the love he never received. Seeing his wife who he adores more than anything loving their child, his child, a child that looks and acts just like him regardless of what he may have done wrong that day. Your love for him was unconditional. 

He loves to see you showering him with love and care even on his bad days when he’s throwing a tantrum. 

This was everything Feyd never knew he wanted and needed. 

He’d burn everything down to protect this, their little growing family. 

⚔️

[hemlock-dreams]

PleSe may I ask for a tiny morsel of the written word depicting bartender Petey taking care of business when some customers get too rowdy? Saw the "80s theme" and immediately thought he'd look amazing tossing out the trash (ideally covered in blood cause can't make an omelets without breaking eggs but bartenders don't tend to break faces sadly)

Here yo go! Have a snippet from the upcoming Chapter 2 of Pick Your Poison!! Hope you enjoy!!

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

Wade sees Baby Boy snatch a bottle that comes flying at him out of the air without looking. 

Damn, they threw the thing at mach speed, too. Wade’s got to hand it to the kid; those are some impressive reflexes. He follows the easy catch by spinning the glass with enough flair to make a schoolgirl swoon, setting it against the bartop like he’s the main character.

The jackasses in the back don’t even notice, hauling each other over the tables in a messy, drunken sprawl. Wade hasn’t seen this much fumbling since prom night.

It’s embarrassing. He should do Weasel a favor (and indulge himself) by shooting them in the legs for interrupting plans between Wade and his future paycheck. But the look of intense concentration on Baby Boy’s face is distracting. That’s the furrowed brow of a man who is about to fuck around and find out.

Boo. Three more days and Baby Boy would have passed the cutoff mark. 

Wade usually likes hedging his bets on the underdog for the thrill, but four against one is bad odds for anyone who isn’t Deadpool, even a civvie with so many tough-guy tattoos. 

“And he was this close to being the final girl,” Wade mourns performatively, sparing a glance at Weasel to gauge how the man is feeling about the prospect of watching his civilian pet project get snapped in half. But the asshole just looks vaguely amused, which piques Wade’s interest.

So he turns back around just in time to watch Baby Boy march right into fucking around territory, straight up walking toward the group of heavily-armed mercs, no weapons, no foreplay, no nothing– just moxie.

Damn. He’s stupid. Wade likes that in a guy.

“Hey,” Baby Boy says, wrapping a hand around the leg of one wooden chair as the one with a bad haircut raises it over his head. 

Their kerfuffle is interrupted as four extremely drunk mercs with more bullets than brains pause to reorient their attention on Baby Boy.

“You know the rules. Sit down, or take it outside,” He continues, tugging on the chair like he’s trying to take it from an unruly toddler. 

There’s a collective laugh from all four bozos as they forget their beef to unionize against a new, soft, and squishy target.

“Oh yeah?” The short one smiles, revealing a row of really ugly teeth. Wade’s fist immediately itches to plant itself into that mouth, just for offending his eyes like that. “Who’s going to make us, you?” 

The edge of Baby Boy’s mouth curves, “If I have to,” he says, and it can’t be mistaken as anything but a taunt.

Bold move, Cotton. 

The rest of the bar, normally oblivious to a few broken pieces of furniture and some blood, takes notice of the audacity. Wade can practically hear eyeballs turning and the collective bating of breath. 

“That’s cute. He thinks he can take us.” Bad Haircut snickers, drunkenly swaying into the conversation. He gives Baby Boy a once-over, expression turning lewd, “Then again, maybe he can…in one of the back rooms.” 

“He does have bigger tits than most of the girls here,” His unfortunate-looking friend leers, staring at Baby Boy’s admittedly mouth-watering chest. Motherfucker is tall and top-heavy, built like a linebacker, invading the kid’s space like he’s looking for a touchdown if you get Wade’s drift. “Got a pretty face, too. What do you say, sweetheart? Why don’t we go to the back and we can apologize to you real good.”

Baby Boy’s hand constricts halfway into a fist before he forces it to relax. He looks like he’s barely holding himself back, and coin flip on whether this is going to be very funny or very sad, but either way, Wade’s on board to be entertained.

“Yo Weasel,” Ugly Smile calls out, eyes locked on Baby Boy, lurid and alcohol-glazed, “You mind if we take your bar boy for a spin?”

His grin promises an unpleasant time, but Wade isn’t worried. Maggie’s is a shithole for sure, with morals looser than Wade’s jaw, but some things are still too far. Not that it keeps these loser shitheads from defaulting to it when they need to compensate.

“You break it, you buy it,” Weasel replies gamely. Which, dang, cold. Always nice to be reminded why Wade kind of likes the guy. 

Baby Boy’s mouth twitches into a smile, and Wade’s entire body goes on alert, “Take the chair out of my rent, then.”

Ready, set, action. An invisible hand slams the clapboard, and everyone bursts into motion.

The chair in question swings and misses. Baby Boy fluidly sidestepping both Bad Haircut and his buddy, grabbing the support and using the momentum to hook the wooden back over Linebacker’s neck, flipping the chair and twisting both mercs like puppets before sending them crashing to the floor. 

Bad Haircut is scrambling up, but Linebacker is pinned to the floor by his chair necklace, anchored by Baby Boy’s leg as he presses down hard enough to snap the wood and drive the remaining air out of his lungs.

The bigger they are, the dumber they fall. Linebacker is immediately out for the count, but a broken chair is still useful, and Baby Boy is apparently the creative sort.

The snapped leg turns into a baton, and Baby Boy leisurely sways out of pistol-whipping range when Bad Haircut pulls out his gun, dancing back in to drive the splintered wood under the merc’s armpit on the outswing.

Screaming in pain, Bad Haircut stumbles back only for Baby Boy to grab his wrist and haul him forward, twisting his arm in a fancy maneuver that ends up with the gun on the floor and kicked safely out of reach.

Interesting.

Then it’s a pas de deux, with Baby Boy’s back against Haircut’s chest, using the impaled baton as leverage to toss the man over his shoulder and straight into Ugly Smile. 

The merc falls out of the way, only to run into Baby Boy’s fist as it buries deep in his guts. Even at a distance, Wade can hear his ribs break. Doubled over, Ugly Smile is coughing up blood and vomit when a tattooed hand cradles the back of his head and slams his mouth into the table once, twice, three times. Then it’s lights out.

It’s over almost as soon as it began, and as the dust settles, Wade is reevaluating the merits of his earlier bet. 

Yes, they were drunk, but Wade still expected it to be fast, if not messy. He hadn’t been counting on class. He hadn’t been counting on Baby Boy to be the one last standing, let alone to have shut them down so completely it barely merits the paragraph.

And the kid isn’t even done. He’s locked eyes with the fourth guy, jaw flexing like an attack dog straining against its leash, but the dumbass looks like he’s turned over a new leaf and become a law-abiding citizen in the few heartbeats it took Baby Boy to clean the floor with his buddies. 

When the guy doesn’t make a move, Baby Boy leans back, completely relaxed, eyes flat, no sense of triumph in the aftermath, just…disappointment– like he’d been craving something more and been left wanting.

Wade can’t resist a low, appreciative whistle, clocking the way Baby Boy’s entire body reacts to the sound. His head snaps in Wade’s direction, and the whole room vignettes as he stares Wade down, eyes flashing like he wants to crumble his spine like a cookie. 

Lust stabs Wade’s gut all the way to the hilt.

“Changed my mind, Weas,” Wade breathes, feeling the tension drain from the room and right into his dick. “You should keep him.”

[fic-dumpster]

Deer in Headlights | Panic arrives at the office

Summary: Working as Sanzu’s secretary for a day wasn't so bad; he was rarely in his office, so you had to handle most of his paperwork and appointments. Where was he? Who knows…

Pairing: Bonten x F!Reader

Word count: 2.4k+

Content Warnings: Plot development, feelings with sprinkles of angst (eww), reverse harem, fluff, brief mention of violence and death. This is part of a series! Just adding that for new readers.

A.N: Finally freeing one of the old wips which I rewrote like five times because i couldn’t remember what I was doing. Anyway! Enjoy more of this never-ending series of unfortunate events surrounding Doe and her harem. K bye 💋

You asked Mikey if you could stay at their workplace longer since being at home was becoming duller and duller. He agreed, but as always when it comes to anything involving you, nothing happens in this household without a fight.

At first, Takeomi objected and would only allow this ridiculous idea if you were his assistant, then Kakucho added that he also needed help. But then backtracked. He remembered his position as an enforcer and didn’t want you to see him like… that— so yeah, discarded.

Meanwhile, Kokonoi laughed in their faces. mentioning how he was the one who spent more time sitting down on his desk— buried in paperwork— and that's why you should be with him. The safest option, according to him.

Surprisingly, the infamous Bonten trio had been quiet the whole time. Ran, Rindou, and Sanzu seemed very uninterested in acquiring you for help. Such a reaction from your pack of hyperactive golden retrievers left you puzzled.

Your incertitude didn’t last long. Later you found out that they didn't want you with them due to the nature of their jobs too, just like Kakucho earlier. The more gruesome parts of Bonten always fell on their shoulders as well.

Not soon after you heard Kokonoi explain their unusual silence, he also added a few extra details. Such details gave you the final push to decide who gets a new helping hand.

Kokonoi gave the longest speech you’ve ever heard him say about Sanzu. The silver-haired individual went on and on about Sanzu never submitting reports on damage, expenses, casualties, and a whole bunch of other desk work.

Sanzu argued that it was utterly ridiculous and unnecessary since everything would be destroyed by the next day. Still, you watched them ping-pong about such… matters for a while.

That's the main reason why you decided to choose Sanzu. And that's what you are doing right now. Sitting outside the door to the pinknette’s office in a new desk that Kokonoi insisted on arranging for you, even added a new desktop setup and all.

The whole morning was pretty calm. Kakucho came by and left some sweets for you, then Ran and Rindou took you out for lunch, and Mikey passed and snatched some of the sweets Kakucho gave you.

Everything seemed normal. it wasn’t until a little after noontime when the scorching sun hit the blinds that a shadow fell over your desk. Looking up from your papers, there stood a tall man—a dangerous-looking man, you might add. A distinctive tattoo was peeking from the neck of his well-tailored suit, strikes of blue and white adorned his hair. The alarms in your head activated for the first time since you were with Bonten. Which meant that danger was imminent.

He greeted you, although his gaze was not on you but looking at his surroundings. Observing and analyzing.

“I’m here to see Bonten’s numbers two,” that was all he said, not sparing you a second glance.

Panic settled in your guts. Sanzu never told you about a scheduled meeting, nor that someone might be asking for him today. You felt that denying something to this individual was not a good answer and how you wished you had followed your instincts.

“I’m sorry, Sir, he's not here at the moment, but you can-” You were cut short when, out of nowhere, a hand hit on your desk, sending papers and pens flying everywhere.

“Call him, then,” now he did pay attention to you, yellow eyes scanning every inch of your features, “or not.”

he stepped closer to your desk, somehow, you felt he was about to break the wood and glass with his palm still there. He then proceeded to bend over, just a little, to have a closer look at you. And it was like recognition hit him and his eyes seemed to acquire a playful glint, “I don’t think he would mind if his secretary keeps me company.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. You froze under his scrutinizing eyes. As still as you were, your fingers itched to bash the keyboard on his face. What was this slimy feeling covering you, overwhelming you? A sudden thought shot through your mind… you were no cheap whore.

That’s what you wanted to scream at him, at least. But you held back— or more like, you were out of options. The fact that he was standing inside Bonten’s building unharmed and without an escort spoke volumes about the caliber of this individual.

Why was such a short interaction setting off all your distress signals? Why was your throat screaming for air even as you breathe? Cold fingertips and a racing heart were the least of your worries at the moment.

Damn, Sanzu and his unorganized schedule and his lack of communication and… you would have continued to mentally berate him if the previously mentioned individual hadn’t stepped around your desk and offered you his hand.

“What do you say we take a walk?” As much of a question as it sounded like, your instinct told you that there was not really an option to decline.

“My boss wouldn’t like me leaving my position…” you articulated with gritted teeth. Against your best judgment, you tried to kindly refuse with an excuse involving Sanzu.

“I’m sure he would make an exception for me,” those were his last words before one of his hands steered you away from your just-acquired desk.

And that’s how you were now walking away from your new desk and going to who knows where. Every step was a scream you swallowed. Again you wondered, what was your instinct detecting from him that your consciousness couldn’t comprehend?

He mentioned his name was Taiju and that you should be careful working in such a precarious organization, such a feeble thing as yourself shouldn’t be exposed to an all-male environment and he kept going on about it.

This… Taiju individual placed his hand on your lower back. Dangerously low. Too low for your liking. So much so that you even hurried your step to create some distance but it was futile.

As if they had heard your silent prayers, Rindou and Kokonoi arrived just in time to see your back being led away from your supposed workplace. Both men felt like cold buckets of water had been thrown at them, blood freezing as a picture they never imagined possible now rose in from of their very own eyes.

You heard your name being called, well, almost screamed. The big guy halted his steps and you followed soon after, both turning to the screaming duo at your backs.

“You can’t take her.” Rindou asserted with a very forced smile, hands already on their way to reach you and bolt if necessary.

“Why is that?” The blue-haired individual inquired.

“Because she’s—“

“She’s my girlfriend!”

Both Rindou and Kokonoi spoke at the same time respectively, the latter with more urgency than the other but the message was clear enough. You were not to be taken away just like that.

“Oh? Congratulations! I never expected you to settle down, Hajime-kun. I thought you would be with Sei—“

“Nonsense,” quickly replied the silver-haired man before moving beside you and hastily pulling you towards his body; avid fingers replaced the previous hand on your lower back—gripping your skin tightly.

“Then why is she with Pinky? Shouldn’t you be taking better care of your women?” Taiju bellowed, eyes analyzing how his old acquaintance held you with so much affection and care. It was clear to anyone witnessing the two people in front of him, how Kokonoi was desperately but subtly in a hurry to erase any trace of Taiju’s touch from you.

“Yeah, Koko, you should take better care of your woman,” Rindou added, internally biting his cheeks to stop himself from laughing at how unexpected of a reaction his colleague had. Forgotten was the panic no soon you were in his fellow member’s arms. Now he decided to play along just for the laughs.

Meanwhile, you were face-pressed against a hard chest and an expensive button. You would have an imprint of Koko’s button on your face, you thought as you silently groaned in frustration; but eternally grateful for their opportune interruption.

“I am,” Kokonoi sent death glares towards Rindou who seemed to forget where you had been a minute ago. He cursed his fellow member’s fish brain. Sending a nod to his old acquaintance, Koko mumbled a hurried goodbye and disappeared with you in his arms.

The remaining two were left standing, watching silver locs wave like a cape.

“That’s an… interesting character development, I must say.”

“He’s pussy whipped,” the purple head commented, dismissively as he took Taiju toward his own office. Of course, the pot calling the kettle black. Well, Rindou talked from first-hand experience.

How does he tell you that he panicked? How does he tell you that you might not have been in danger, but his mind refused to understand? How does he explain his actions when they are not consistent with how he always treats you?

Kokonoi Hajime knows it doesn’t make sense what he did or what he’s feeling. It had nothing to do with Taiju but everything to do with you.

He sat in silence with you on his lap, arms wrapped around you tightly as his mind circled over his latest silent outburst. Sanzu’s office wasn’t the coziest place but it would have to work for now.

Air was something you certainly knew you needed in order to live. You hoped you didn’t have to remind Koko of that fact as he kept tightening his grip as time passed.

Up and down, your eyes gazed over his side profile. The few details you could see from your perspective—face harshly compressed against him—seemed to suggest he was not here completely. The lost look he wore was new to you.

“Koko?” You mumbled curiosity and worry mixed together within you. After a while, the odd silence didn’t quite sit well with you. “Koko?” You called out his name for a second time, squirming in his constricted grasp in an attempt to get his attention.

“Hum?” He seemed lost as he hummed a response. Slowly blinking away whatever thoughts had captured him for the last several minutes.

You knew talking things with him was hard, you didn’t wanna say the wrong things and make him lock you out. That’s why you had waited in place, letting him process whatever happened in the hall. It was so uncharacteristic of him to claim you in public or even touch you in front of others. You had expected Rindou to make a scene but never from Kokonoi.

After another prolonged silence, you went for the safest route. Asking for the only phrase that stuck with you. “So I’m your girlfriend?”

“Of course, you are, dummy,” he whispered with a dry chuckle; cradling your head against his chest—not once did his grip loosened. You felt words weren’t needed at the moment, something told you just to be there for him.

Kokonoi wanted to reaffirm you were real, you were still there, you weren’t a product of his mind… like his younger self used to imagine.

Maybe that was it? The image of you simply walking away; your back facing him tormented him now. He felt like his old self again, the one who lost so much and the little he was left with he kept it under a thousand locks. His mind and body remembered the devastating events and the pain… the pain of having something so dear to you again and how easy it was for life to take everything away in the blink of an eye.

Fear paralyzes. That’s when he realized he was afraid, but also… in love. Love doesn’t make sense; it’s the only part of the equation he could never calculate accurately.

He was so in love, that he acted out of character—vulnerable and raw. Only you had been able to bring that back out from the innumerable hard shells covering his heart.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You might not know that your words were just what he needed. Saying whatever was at the tip of your tongue has always been a talent of yours.

“Thank you,” he said softly, unwavering. you both stayed intertwined in the coach until darkness fell.

Somewhere in Japan near an abandoned port.

“You did this on purpose, did you not?” Mochi accused the pink-haired man after checking the message Rindou had sent to the group chat.

“Dunno what you mean,” rebuked Sanzu.

ah, so feigning ignorance now, was it? Mochi sent him a questioning gaze. “Sanzu…”

“It’s a sign that she wasn’t supposed to be there. She’s perfectly safe at our place and I don’t need help with paperwork.” He nonchalantly told Mochi. “Hey! Roll out the tarp! I don’t want any mess here!” Sanzu bellowed at the henchmen around him.

“Nah, I agree. You knew.” Ran taunted him, walking toward the now laid-out tarp. “You knew at what time Koko was going to check on her with Rindou and Taiju just magically went straight to your office with no problem? Ha, right.”

Kakucho heard the conversation and nodded in agreement with Ran. Bonten’s enforcer would have engaged in the accusation party but three cold bodies rested at his feet and nobody else seemed to have his mind on the job at the moment. He barked orders to the footmen who were taking too long to move the deceased.

“No, it was Takeomi.”

Every Bonten member perked up at the information their leader was providing them with. Takeomi froze in place as four pairs of eyes focused on him. Mikey on the other hand, sat a top of a wooden pallet tower; munching carelessly on some snacks.

“Well, now it makes sense. It was too much of a good plan to be yours.” Ran commented out loud with a laugh.

“Excuse me? I was part of the plan!” Argued Sanzu like a hissing kitten.

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t know?”

Sanzu looked at Mochi with exasperation as the sound of something heavy hitting the plastic tarp resonated in the background.

“You approved, though,” mentioned Takeomi who was standing close to Mikey.

“Sometimes it’s better to let a bird clash against the glass. It learns that sometimes no matter how clear the path looks, you can’t always fly at your heart’s content.” Mikey said as he dusted off the remaining pieces of crackers from his dark shirt. “And eventually… it won’t fly in that direction ever again.”

“And Koko?” Mused Kakucho joined the two men conversing.

“He needed a push in the right direction. He’s as hardheaded as always.” Chuckled Takeomi before tasking a drag of his cigarette.

[beelinx]

leo valdez dating an apollo kid hcs

a/n: as an apollo kid who's absolutely in love with leo, this one is might be biased... sorry chat

I think Leo would absolutely LOVE a child of Apollo that’s mostly in the creative fields!

Honestly he would love you however you are but

I just think those little moments when you’re both working on your own projects, basking in each other’s company, are so special to him.

If you’re talented in music, PLEASE play something for him

I GUARANTEE you he will fall in love immediately

Apply that same criteria to any other hobby / art form you can show off for him and you’re set

Since his love language is definitely gift giving / acts of service, if you’re more gifted in doing paintings, sculptures, or other similar stuff, and you give them to him, he literally burns up.

Like fully bursts into flame immediately.

ALSOOOO

If you’re in the infirmary just like Will then he would go there even if it was just for the smallest scratch ever.

He just wants to see you being cute <3

Talking about Will…

He would definitely be protective over you, but most of the times it's in a joking way.

Except that his “joking” has Leo shitting his pants in fear because Will can be TERRIFYING..

It’s the southern in him.

If you were dating during the events of the Trials of Apollo, then I can guarantee you he tried his hardest to impress Lester / Apollo.

It was kind of confusing though, associating that guy as your dad.

He got his blessing very quickly though!

He knows Leo makes you happy and that’s all that matters to him.

You and Leo doing karaoke together! <3

Even if you aren’t the best singer, this is one of the most fun activities ever.

I think Leo would be a strangely good singer, but he would never try.

You just know if that man actually put in the work he’d put most singers to shame, but he doesn’t.

Instead you get the most ear-bleeding performance ever at karaoke night.

You couldn’t get through your duet because you kept laughing your asses off.

He’d force you to teach him to do anything Apollo was associated with, no matter whether or not you’re actually any good at it.

“TEACH ME HOW TO DO THAT PLEASE.” “Leo, I’m not even good at drawing…”

Says you’re his muse constantly.

It’s like that term changed his life.

You’re convinced he’s saying it jokingly because there’s literally no way he’s calling you that seriously, but he swears up and down that you're both his inspiration and motivation to do stuff.

His favorite nickname / pet name for you will always be sunshine though !

Even if you don’t like it, it’s his favorite ever.

You can rip it out of his cold, dead hands.

If you shine in the dark (like Will) then trust me he’s absolutely going to abuse that power to his advantage

You’re his flashlight now so expect staying up late at night to help him light his work table.

He could get a lamp, but he swears you shine more (also you’re prettier) (and he wants to spend time with you)

He’d make anything you need for your hobbies <3

Guitar? He’s got it.

Easel? He already built it.

Bow and arrows? Done. He even rigged the arrows to have special effects.

In other words, Leo is the best boyfriend ever and he would do anything for you!

[lost-romantique]

The Needs of Both these Messy Gays~

I just want to make a point and state that I'm not attacking or pitting both these guys against each other. They're dumbasses, the both of them.

Blitz is someone that is going to need constant reassurance when he's in a relationship.

Being told the words "I love you" scares the fuck out of him because he doesn't trust those words of love.

At the same time, romantic gestures don't work on him because he's always going to assume the worst.

"And then, he'll call me to see how my day was! And he'll pretend to care about me, and comment on my photos, and LAUGH AT MY JOKES—"

Blitz is someone that has used his body and sex as a way to get what he wants. But his relationship to sex is one of the reasons why he's unable to trust those romantic gestures.

Blitz constantly seeks reassurance, and he asks Stolas for that reassurance a LOT throughout Full Moon and Apology Tour...

"Am I not, like, fucking you good enough? Because I-I can always- I can always do better--"

Blitz immediately asks Stolas for reassurance that he's good enough, and that if he isn't good enough, he makes it a point to tell Stolas that he can do better.

Stolas responds to Blitz saying he cares very deeply for him, but being told he's cared about doesn't give him the reassurance he needs.

Blitz asks for reassurance twice from Stolas in Apology Tour...

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?"

"Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even know why you would want to be with me."

Stolas never says anything really wrong in his responses to Blitz, and I think Blitz himself needed to here that. BUT if Stolas were to make one mistake, it would be that he states that he wants somebody / anybody.

Blitz doesn't reach out to Stolas because of his issues in intimacy, and because Blitz himself hasn’t been given the reassurance that he's the one Stolas wants.

Do you know who does give Blitz the reassurance that he's needed? Millie.

Millie is able to give concrete examples to Blitz on how he made an impact on her life.

In fact, Millie states that Blitz is the reason that everything she has in her life is thanks to him being unapologetically himself.

"He gave me so much: a career, a husband, a future, and now... he's my best friend."

The moment Millie gives Blitz the example of how much she values him as a person and as a friend, Blitz immediately asks for reassurance...

"You... you don’t hate me?"

And Millie automatically says, "Nah, never."

The moment Blitz is given the reassurance that he isn't hated by Millie, he opens up, he becomes vulnerable.

Blitz allows Millie to comfort him, and Blitz initiates that intimacy with Millie to which she obliges.

What's beautiful about this exchange is that there isn't anything remotely sexual about it. This is just one friend comforting another friend in need.

Blitz asks for reassurance again in the form of a question...

And the moment Millie reaffirms that sentiment, Blitz opens up and shows Millie the real him.

Not the fuckboy facade, not the mask he wears... this is the REAL Blitz...

Blitz also shows incredible growth by not deflecting to jokes like he usually does, but instead by being honest with Millie...

Blitz promises to Millie that he'll stop impeding on her marriage

Blitz states in the most subtle way that he has feelings for Stolas

Stolas needs to be told that he's cared for and that he's loved by someone.

He's also someone that seeks romantic affection in the form of compliments, and big and small romantic gestures mean the world to him as well.

Blitz unknowingly makes Stolas’s romantic fantasies come true...

A rogue assassin comes into his bedroom to "scale the walls" and he acts like he wants Stolas a lot.

This man is attractive, he is literally the protagonist of a romance novel. His boldness and confidence is alluring. He is a dream come true and he's here to take what's his.

This man just literally sweeps Stolas off his feet, and he still does this while giving you the most smug grin.

Blitz throws Stolas to the bed, and gives him ultimate rizz in the form of this shit eating grin.

And the moment Blitz bites his neck, Stolas is so fucking into it he creams himself.

Blitz is so good actually, extremely good in being bold, confident, and sexy. He knows how to unravel Stolas. *cough*

In fact, the moment Blitz catches him, Stolas is smitten and he is down bad.

To Stolas, this is a big romantic gesture. This is a motherfucking dream come true for Stolas because, "OMG THIS HOT ASS MAN JUST FUCKING SAVED ME!"

But Blitz isn't a romantic, he's not good at showing romantic affection in small ways, and that's what screws him over.

Stolas wants and actively seeks the smallest bit of reassurance and comfort that Blitz can provide, whether it be through text and or in other small ways.

This motherfucking birb, this dumbass Prince, even when he has every right to be angry at Blitz for the shit he said to him, still wants Blitz to hold him. In fact, he makes him hold him.

Stolas is so fucking cute, being all like, "I'm mad at you, but I still demand you hold me."

"You wanna know what I want? I want to know what it's like, to not be alone. I want to be someone's someone. I want to feel wanted. But like, in a romantic way, like I'm standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting: “Harriet! Don’t get on that train, it’s going to London and I cannot be without you!”

Harriet the Train is a big romantic gesture. Stolas likes big romantic gestures, and Blitz is really good at doing actions that are big and bold.

Blitz has made Stolas feel wanted in The Circus and he makes him feel protected in Seeing Stars. Blitz knows how to be big.

Stolas doesn't need Blitz to perform Harriet the Train, but can he? Oh fuck yes he can.

"The point is, I just... want someone to care if I stay or go. I want someone to want... me! To want to see me. To hold me. To look at me and think "You're the only one I want!" [sheds tears] "I desire to hold you and talk to you, and never let you feel so..."

This is what Stolas wants from someone right now. He wants to feel wanted in the small ways, he wants to be held, he wants someone to talk to him, to make him feel not so alone.

Right now, at this very moment, Stolas needs the small stuff. He needs the small bits of intimacy that Blitz is not in the right headspace to provide in Apology Tour.

Do you know who gives Stolas what he needs at the moment? Better than Blitzo guy.

He's smooth and charming in a different way from Blitz. He doesn't even look at Blitz, actually, his eyes are only on Stolas.

"Great song earlier. You have great pipes."

He compliments Stolas on his singing, and Stolas is happy to be given a compliment.

BTB than asks Stolas to dance, and Stolas is both surprised and in disbelief.

Stolas is so happy and genuinely has an amazing time dancing with BTB, he even goes out of his way to use his wings to give Stolas a spin.

BTB even performs a big romantic gesture of pulling Stolas into a sloppy wet kiss, to which Stolas happily reciprocates.

I think both these idiots have the potential to be what the other really needs, and I honestly think with proper communication they can have the most beautiful relationship.

[greengoblinswifey]

Betrayed By Blood—Nicholas Chavez x Fiancée!Reader

summary— you think you’re getting married to the love of your life but it all comes crashing down when you discover at your engagement party that nicholas has been cheating on you with your older sister. based on this request.

warnings— angst, cheating, heartbreak, betrayal.

a/n— i am such a slut for angst, keep it comin!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

You had always been the kind of person who believed in love wholeheartedly. When Nicholas entered your life three years ago, you couldn’t believe your luck. He was everything you’d ever wanted, kind, successful acting career, charming, and so ridiculously in love with you that it almost felt unreal. You were the envy of your friends, your family—hell, even your own self at times. He made you feel like you could do anything, be anyone. He was your best friend, your lover, your everything.

But what made it even more special was how seamlessly he fit into your world. The way he would light up when your family talked about their traditions, his willingness to learn about your culture, how your older sister, despite the years of distance between you two—had begun to bond with him. It was all so perfect. Nicholas had even made a point of getting close to your older sister, knowing how much she meant to you, even if it made you feel a twinge of discomfort sometimes. You were still getting used to the closeness between them, but it didn’t bother you much. She was just looking out for you, making sure the man you were about to marry was really the one.

Your sister was always a bit more distant from you. You’d never had the kind of bond that some people shared with their siblings—she was a few years older, more independent, and you’d always felt that divide. But when Nicholas came into the picture, something shifted. She started coming around more. She started asking about your relationship, checking in on how things were going. You even started enjoying the time she spent with him, seeing how happy he made you. Nicholas always appreciated your family and their cultural traditions, always joking around with your uncles about how they would “teach him the ropes” on making your culture’s food. They’d all gathered around him, with your uncles and cousins giving him their best cooking tips, even asking him to come to every cookout. It made you laugh how easily he fit in. It was exactly what you had always dreamed of—a man who loved you and respected your family’s values.

The engagement had come a little earlier than expected, but when he proposed to you, you couldn’t say no. You had been telling Nicholas for months that you didn’t want to wait forever. You wanted a future, you wanted a family, and most importantly, you wanted him. He had been apprehensive at first about rushing into things, but soon, he was on board. Your family was thrilled, your uncles teased him, and your mom cried with joy. Your sister, though not exactly the most emotionally expressive person, seemed genuinely happy for you both.

The engagement party was the culmination of everything, a massive celebration of your love. It was your moment, your chance to show everyone what Nicholas meant to you. And you couldn’t wait.

The night started off perfectly. Nicholas, looking dashing in his black suit, was by your side, his hand in yours as you made your rounds. Your sister, radiant as always, stood nearby, laughing with your family, as everyone celebrated the two of you. You danced with Nicholas, his lips brushing your neck as he whispered sweet things into your ear. You felt safe in his arms, protected. His smile was everything, and in that moment, you truly believed your life was everything you had ever wanted.

Your uncles, rowdy as usual, crowded around Nicholas, teasing him about being a part of their “cookout crew” now. They joked about his need to learn how to make your cultural dishes, like he’d be joining them for the next family cookout. You loved it. It felt like the piece of the puzzle you’d been waiting for your whole life, a family who accepted him, and him, genuinely embracing them.

But then, as the night progressed, you began to notice things. Little things. The way your sister kept laughing a little too loudly at Nicholas’ jokes. The way her hand lingered on his chest a bit too long when she made a joke, just a touch too intimate for your liking. You tried to shake it off, blaming it on the alcohol, on the festive mood. Your sister had always been affectionate with the people she liked, but something about the way she looked at him made your stomach turn.

It wasn’t even the physical closeness. It was the way she looked at him, like she was seeing him in a way you hadn’t seen before. You shrugged it off at first. He was your fiancé, after all. You shouldn’t be feeling jealous. She was your sister, and you wanted her to like him, to approve of him. This was nothing. Just a moment of insecurity.

But when Nicholas disappeared to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Half an hour had passed, and he still hadn’t come back. Your sister had gone missing too. They were both nowhere to be found, and a quiet alarm began to ring in the back of your mind.

You finally decided to check on them. You climbed the stairs, heels clicking against the floor. The music from downstairs muffled everything around you, and as you walked down the hallway, your heart beat faster with every step.

You remembered he’d said he was going to the bathroom. The upstairs bathroom door was slightly ajar, a thin line of light spilling out. You pushed the door open and peeked inside.

What you saw made your blood run cold.

Nicholas, your fiancé, was kissing your older sister with a passion that made your stomach drop. His hands were tangled in her curls, gripping it as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Her hands were all over his chest, moving to grip his bulge, and the way they kissed each other was everything you hadn’t seen from him in your three years together. There was nothing tender about it, nothing sweet. Just raw, ferocious hunger. He had her pressed against the counter, and they were so caught up in each other that they didn’t even hear you.

You froze, every ounce of warmth drained from your body. You couldn’t breathe. Your mind refused to accept what your eyes were seeing.

And then, your sister’s voice, breathless, echoed in the room.

“Take me right here,” she purred.

Nicholas smirked against her lips. “Later tonight,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “Tonight, I’ll give you this dick and everything you want.”

Your sister laughed, a sound you would never forget. “She’s so stupid,” she said, hands trailing down his chest. “Thinking you actually chose her.”

And Nicholas, your fiancé, laughed. He laughed.

The sound was like a knife to your heart.

You couldn’t watch anymore. You turned and stumbled away from the door, the world around you spinning. Your legs felt weak, your heart pounding in your ears. You had to get away. You had to get out of there.

You made your way back down the stairs, your brown skin feeling somehow drained of color, your chest tight with the weight of everything crashing down.

You sat on the couch, numb, staring into the distance as the laughter and chatter of the party continued around you. Everyone was so oblivious. How could they be so blind?

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at the empty glass in your hand, feeling the bile of betrayal and heartbreak rise in your throat. But the truth was clear now. The person you had trusted most in this world, the man you thought would be yours forever, had betrayed you. And your sister, the one person who was supposed to have your back, had been the one to help him destroy everything.

Everything was fucking over.

The world felt like it was closing in on you. You stood in the corner of your sister's yard, away from the noise and the chaos of the party, trying to breathe in the cool night air, but it didn’t help. It was all too much. Your thoughts raced as your mom, drunk on Hennessy, slipped out the door to check on you.

“Are you okay, baby? You don’t look so good,” she slurred, her words barely hanging together.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. Just a little too much to drink,” you said quickly, offering her a smile, though it felt like your face was frozen. You didn’t want her to see the turmoil churning inside you. You didn’t want anyone to see the cracks in the perfect picture you had spent so long trying to paint.

She frowned slightly, swaying on her feet as she stared at you with unsteady eyes. “You sure? You seem so off. Maybe lay off the Henny, huh?”

You laughed weakly, swallowing the bitter taste of your own anger. “Yeah, Mom, I’m good but maybe you should too, Just need some air. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

She nodded, barely convincing herself, before she staggered back inside. You could still hear her slurring through the door. “You’ve got such a good man, don’t forget that,” she called over her shoulder, her voice drifting on the warm night breeze.

“I know, I thought so too,” you said under your breath.

But now, everything had shattered. You stood in the cold, looking out at the darkened street, your thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt. Maybe she’s right, you thought. Maybe I was stupid. So stupid for not seeing it earlier.

The signs had always been there, hadn’t they? The way Nicholas and your sister would hang out without you, their bodies too close, the long hugs that lasted a bit too long. The way his hands would graze her shoulder or her back, like it was something casual—like it didn’t mean anything. But you had been so blinded by wanting to prove to yourself, to your family, that Nicholas was the one. That he loved you. And that your sister, the one person who you thought would always have your back, would approve.

You had wanted her approval so badly.

The signs were obvious, though. The way he would always find a reason to make her laugh, to make her feel special. He’d tell her jokes only she seemed to find funny, or the way he’d always help her with things around the house when he was at your family gatherings. The way he would stare at her ass when she’d walk away from the table, thinking you didn’t see it. The small, subtle touches, how he always found a reason to touch her arm or her back. It had been happening all along, and yet, you had made excuses. They’re just close, they’re family.

But it wasn’t just that. It was the way they’d look at each other. It was the way they had always made quick excuses to disappear for a few moments, always sneaking off together, but you had never thought much of it. Just friends, you had told yourself. But now, standing in the dark, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

They had been sneaking around behind your back for so long, and you had been too blind to see it. How could you have been so stupid?

You suddenly felt dizzy, as if the weight of it all had just crashed down on you all at once. You knew you couldn’t stay out there much longer. You had to get away, had to leave. You couldn’t stand to see their faces, couldn’t stand to pretend that everything was okay.

Before you could even collect your thoughts, you felt a presence behind you.

“What are you doing out here, mama?” Nicholas’ voice cut through the silence. It was warm, too warm, and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t turn to face him. You didn’t want to.

“I just needed some air,” you lied, trying to sound casual. You didn’t trust your voice. “The alcohol’s got me feeling all weird.”

He stepped closer, as if concerned, his hand coming up to touch your arm. “Well, let’s get you back inside. What’s wrong?”

You winced, flinching instinctively as he tried to kiss your cheek. You jerked away from him. “I’m not feeling too great, honestly,” you muttered, your voice breaking just enough to make him pause.

Nicholas laughed lightly. “It’s just the booze, babe. You know how it gets you all—worked up. Hope you’re not getting cold feet now,” he added, his tone teasing, but his eyes scanning your face too closely. “You know I love you, right?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You fought the urge to lash out, to scream at him, a bitter laugh. You love me? Sure, you do.

You managed a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you nodded, playing the part. “I know, Nicholas. I know,” you said through gritted teeth.

You’re full of shit.

You both made your way back inside, where the party was still in full swing. Your mom was laughing with your uncles, and your sister, who seemed to have too much to drink. She was swaying a little too much, her lipstick smudged, her hair a little messier than usual.

You couldn’t help but stare at her. How could she? How could she betray you like this? The woman who had held you as a baby, the woman who was supposed to protect you, be your big sister—your own flesh and blood.

She walked up to you with that sickly sweet smile, her hand on your arm, as if nothing was wrong. “You guys should stay over tonight. You're both too drunk to drive,” she said, her voice syrupy, but you could hear the underlying smugness.

You forced a smile, but it was more of a sneer. You didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to be in the same room. “Thanks, but I think we’re going to head out,” you said, your voice cold and distant.

“Are you sure? Also, you look beautiful tonight,” she said, a little too loud, her eyes flicking to Nicholas. “You’re so lucky to have him.” She smiled at him, that smile that made you want to throw up.

You could barely stand it. “Yeah, I’m lucky,” you muttered. “But we should get going.”

Your sister didn’t argue. Instead, she waved it off, telling Nicholas that he should clean up with her, but you cut her off sharply. “No, she said she’d clean up, so Nicholas just come to bed since she wants us to stay so bad,” you said to him, your voice firm. He didn’t question it, but you could see the brief flash of surprise in his eyes.

They both paused. Shocked that you’re not letting them play their little game anymore.

He nodded reluctantly, muttering something under his breath, and followed you upstairs.

Once in the room, you started to get ready for bed. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, telling you how much he loved your family and how he couldn’t wait to be a part of it all. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was already part of it—in the worst way possible.

As you climbed into bed, you turned to face away from him, feeling the warmth of his body beside you, knowing how wrong it all was. He pressed kisses along your back, but you flinched with every touch, every word he whispered. You knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to lull you to sleep so he could slip away.

You pretended to fall asleep, lying still as he shifted beside you. He waited a few minutes before slowly nudging you off of him, making sure you were still “asleep” before getting out of bed. You kept your eyes closed, though your heart was pounding in your chest. You heard the sound of him leaving the room.

The tears started to come then. One single tear fell from your eye, and that was it. He was really going to do it. He was going to go fuck your sister, and you knew it wasn’t the first time.

The tears didn’t stop as you cried yourself to sleep. You didn’t know when he came back to bed, but by then, you didn’t care.

The next morning, the air was thick with tension. Nicholas, ever the actor, was trying to act like nothing was wrong, all smiles and charm, but you couldn’t look at him. Not after everything.

“You okay?” he asked, trying to make conversation on the car ride home. His hand rested on your thigh, cold, stiff. Not warm like it used to be.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, trying to keep yourself together.

When you got home, you walked straight to the bedroom without a word. He followed behind, still trying to act normal, trying to act like he hadn’t just betrayed you in the worst way possible.

You turned to him, your voice hard, cold. “How long?”

He looked at you, confused. “How long what?”

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” you spat. His face went white.

He started rambling, trying to justify it, trying to come up with excuses, but you stopped him cold. You looked him dead in the eyes, your voice low but sharp enough to pierce through his fumbling excuses. “Cut the bullshit, Nicholas. How long have you been fucking my sister?”

His face drained of color, and for a split second, you saw panic flicker in his eyes. But then he straightened up, his mouth opening and closing, struggling to form words. He tried to spin some story, but it was all nonsense, just meaningless rambling that you couldn’t stomach.

“I— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, baby, I—”

You cut him off, disgust twisting your insides. “Fuck you. You’re not sorry. You’re only sorry you got caught.”

His face fell. He opened his mouth again, but you weren’t listening anymore. You pulled the ring from your finger and tossed it at him with all the force you could muster. The diamond caught the light before it clattered to the floor, a symbol of everything that had ended between the two of you.

“Don’t. Don’t even try to fix this,” you spat, your voice cold, firm. “I’m done. Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see your face again.”

He took a step back, his eyes wide with panic, a mix of guilt and anger on his face. He pleaded with you, but you didn’t hear him. You didn’t want to hear him. You could barely look at him.

“I can’t believe you did this,” you whispered, the betrayal so thick in your chest it was suffocating. “I trusted you. And I trusted her.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I never want to see either of you again.”

Nicholas looked like he was going to say something more, but he didn’t. His face was a mess of guilt, frustration, and desperation as he turned on his heel, heading for the door.

When the door slammed behind him, it felt like the last thing holding you together had fallen apart. The silence that followed felt deafening, and as soon as you heard the sound of his car pull away from the driveway, the floodgates opened.

You had never felt so broken in your life.

You didn’t wait for long before pulling out your phone and dialing your sister’s number. It rang a few times before she picked up, her voice so sweet, like everything was fine. Like nothing had changed.

“Hey sis! What’s up?” she said, her tone light.

You didn't waste time with pleasantries. “Fuck you bitch,” you snapped, your voice filled with venom. “Two-faced whore. I never want to see you again.”

There was silence on the other end. You could almost hear her gasp, her breath catching as she processed the words. But you didn’t give her a chance to respond.

“Stay the hell out of my life. I never want to hear from you again. Ever,” you added, your voice colder than ice.

You didn’t even wait for her to respond before you hung up. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear her lies. The texts and calls came flooding in immediately, frantic apologies, explanations that you knew were all just bullshit. You didn’t care.

You blocked her number without a second thought.

The betrayal was suffocating, and you couldn’t stop shaking. You wanted to scream. You wanted to burn it all down. But instead, you curled into yourself on the bed, every part of you hollow. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry at first. The tears wouldn’t come, not until the numbness wore off, and then they came in a flood, unstoppable, overwhelming.

Your heart felt like it was ripped in two. Betrayed. By the man who had promised to love you forever. By the sister who had held you when you were small, the one person who had always been your protector. Now she was just another person who had turned her back on you.

You lay there, letting the tears fall until there were no more to shed. And when it was over, there was nothing left but silence and a cold, gnawing emptiness.

The next few days passed in a haze. You didn’t leave your room, didn’t talk to anyone. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t.

When you finally found the strength to move, to get out of bed and go through the motions, everything felt like a shadow of what it used to be. Your heart was still broken, but the anger was sharper now. You were angry at them both. Angry at yourself for not seeing it sooner. Angry at your family for not being who you thought they were.

But most of all, you were angry because you knew deep down that you would never trust anyone the same way again. How could you?

The world felt different now—like it had shifted, and you were no longer sure where you stood.

But in that anger, there was clarity. You were done with Nicholas. You were done with her. You didn’t need them. You would be okay. Maybe not right now, maybe not in the next few months, but eventually, you would find peace.

And you’d never let anyone—anyone, take that away from you again.

The betrayal was deep, but so was your strength.

You weren’t going to let them destroy you.

[callsign-songbird]

(I was going back through some files on my laptop and found this old thing I wrote, No, I am not going to edit anything, so, Enjoy!)

Thinking about Simon. Thinking about the callouses on his hands, not just his fingertips. Thinking about the way his hands are so rough against your soft skin, massaging is and manipulating the soft flesh in malleable circles. the way he would pepper kisses along the surface and fan his soft breaths along your neck. this is a man who has lost everything and drug himself through hell by only his bootstraps to spit in the devils face, and paid the price for it. so to have something as beautiful, as decadent, as absolutely divine as you looking up at his with those big, wet eyes while the pumps his cock into you and pushes you to the point of overstimulation, whining and begging him to stop. he doesn't feel worthy. You are his goddess, his life, his love, the breath in his lungs, everything he lives and exists for. Price could tell the day he met you too.

Simon had always been utterly devoted to Price. After Simon accomplished his mission, Price was the one to pull him out of that lonely pit, dust him off, and offer the husk of a man a job doing what he did best. and from that day forward, that was what Simon was. A soldier. Not just any soldier, though. He was Price's soldier. Any order or request Price gave was carried out down to the letter. it didn't mind if Price was asking for a coffee, mentioned that he needed his boots shined, or even needed some *other* acts of service, Simon was always right there. And then there was you. One day, Simon came back from off-base with Price's coffee, and he faltered. It was tiny, miniscule even. Simon overlooked Price's comment about being parched. As small as it would be for anyone else, that was monumental for Simon. He started leaving base more, becoming more and more distracted. Then, one day, Simon comes to Price with a question that he doesn't know how to answer at first.

"Captain, how does one... Approach a woman with the intent of... a relationship?" Price about spit out his coffee, choking momentarily and disguising the action as a cough, but Simon knew. Simon always knew. Price gave the best advice he could, but he was utterly confounded as to where this development had come in. He watched Simon nod his head and head out of his office, large gloved hands stuffed in his pockets and brows knit up beneath his skull balaclava. Price really knew that he shouldn't be worried, Simon was nothing if not dedicated, committed, and diligent. But this was a big change, and Price momentarily worried for whatever pretty little thing had caught Simon's eye.

This was where Soap and Gaz came in. Troublemaking pair that the two of them were, and other than Price, Soap was the closest one to Simon on base. Whenever Simon craved dominance, he went to Price. Whenever Simon craved submission, he would take it from Soap. Not like he was complaining, no. The military was a bunch of guys getting real close and sweaty with each other, coming to rely on and depend on each other, and Soap had never been shy about what he had.

So imagine his surprise when Simon hasn't scruffed him, shoved his cock down Johnny's throat, or even shot him that warning glare in nearly a month now. He mutters under his breath and tosses back another glass of amber warmth, whining out about his relationship issues to Gaz. Gaz simply pats his back awkwardly while sipping on his own glass. "I dunno mate, maybe he's got a new girl." They both take one look at each other and burst out laughing so hard that their sides hurt, but that's all it takes to sew those seeds of doubt. Not like he *really* cares, no. Sure, the dominance is fun and keeps his high drive satisfied for the most part, but he's more worried for his friend than anything. Ghost never shared his life with anyone, so if it really was a girl, well, things could get complicated. Simon was like an animal, with a strict chain of command in his head. It went Price, him, Soap. He was Price's, and Soap was his. and he was fiercely protective of that hierarchy. But if it wasn't enough? If he was thinking of adding a little bird to the mix? Heaven forbid a civilian? Well, things might get complicated.

So that's how He, Gaz, and Price ended up following Simon off base one day. Though, Price only came to keep them out of trouble and out from under Simon's feet, much to Gaz's delight and Soap's chagrin. They tailed Simon from a safe distance, dressed in civilian clothes to avoid attention. They watched as he stepped into a shop and came out with a small plastic bag and- heaven forbid- Price had to harshly clap a hand over Soap's mouth to keep him from the boisterous laughter that threatened to spill out from the cage of callouses and chorded steel beneath flesh. Flowers. In Simon's other hand was a dainty bouquet of flowers. Pink roses, white lily's, baby's breath, and pink orchids. It was a nice arrangement, and for a moment, Price and Soap were on the cusp of jealousy, overridden only by sheer curiosity. Who the hell was it that had managed to enrapture the stoic and cold lieutenant like that?

They followed all the way to a small park, jaws nearly dropped ad the slight skip in Ghost's step. It was almost indiscernible to the untrained eye, but these men had spent years with Simon, grown accustomed to the three kinds of steps this man had. Cool and calculated, Hurried and determined when shit hits the fan, and enraged with quick and heavy footfalls. This was none of those. The way Simon bowed his head, his shoulders slightly hunched in, the soft almost nonexistent trembling in his hand that was unbecoming of a sniper.

Simon was *Nervous* they all realized.

Then they saw you, and none of them could understand. You were ok. Kind of average, not exactly a model but certainly not ugly. any one of them would shag you, if that meant anything. But the longer they watched, the more they came to understand. They way your cheeks flushed and your eyes lit up at the bouquet, a soft giggle leaving your lips. Simon's eyes squinted beneath his mask, the tell-tale sign of a smile leaving the three men breathless. This little thing had their Lieutenant wrapped around her little finger, and yet, she didn't seem to have any ill intent. you we're all soft smiles and sweet words. A bit of an odd duck from what the three could tell by tailing the two of you on your outing, but it only made you more endearing to them. What was more surprising though, was the Lieutenant.

None of them could comprehend the hold you had on him. With Simon, there always had to be something firm and ironclad. With Price, it was his dominance. With Soap, he was the firm one with strict rules and harsh punishments, And yet, this was none of that. He seemed to treat you so gently, as if you were the most precious aerogel and would shatter at the smallest bit of force. Simon's gruff voice was gentle when he spoke to you, the hand on the small of your back protective, yet soft. None of the men knew how to take it.

Then came the nail in the coffin. In front of a house, presumably yours, you turned to Simon, looking up at him through those long lashes of yours. Your hands slipped out of his and rested on his chest, palms flat against the fabric, slowly snaking up until your fingertip brushed under the hem of Simon's mask. Each man watched as the Lieutenant tensed, like a spring about to snap. What they didn't expect was for him to give you a single curt nod. Slowly and gently you worked the fabric of his mask up, caressing every inch of unearthed flesh with your fingertips as if it were a treasure you were unearthing. Eventually, Simon's mask rested over the bridge of his nose, your delicate hands cupping the sides of his face as if he were more precious than solid gold. Slowly the two of you leaned in, and the men were astounded to see their lieutenant drawn into a kiss more gentle and passionate than they thought him possible of.

The next week around base was unusually tense. Soap and Price sharing knowing glances in the hallway while Gaz didn't know how to comfort either of them. Oddly enough, though, Simon was beginning to return. It started slow. He stopped overlooking what price would say absentmindedly and the devotion returned, he would Scruff Soap again when he did something stupid or lipped off. Eventually, he was even back on his knees for price and forcing Soap back onto his. Why the change? No one understood. it's not like it was overnight either, no, this took nearly a year.

"Honeymoon phase must be up." Price surmised over a drink with Soap, eyeing Simon as he grabbed the next round from the bar. "Och, ya' don' think sir? Ya think Ghost would let somethin' like that happen?" Soap mused, his gaze focused on the same imposing figure. Then the little bell over the bar door Jingled, and they watched the Lieutenant's eyes melt in unprecedented warmth. A look they had only seen once before. Sure enough, there you were. Such a small nervous little thing, looking around like a lamb in the middle of a wolves den. in many ways, that's exactly what you were. From the moment that door opened, you were being eyed up by dozens of hungry soldiers, licking their chops and already standing to try their shot at you.

But no, Ghost would never allow that. Not his pretty little bird. His long strides made quick work of the distance between you, grabbing some poor private by the face and ripping him away from you. A hand snaked around your waist and pulled your flush against Simons chest. A soft squeak left your lips as Simon glared around the bar and placed his claim, walking you back to the bar where he could retrieve the round of drinks for the table and order one for you.

Simon brought the drinks and you back over to the table, sliding into the booth beside Johnny and gently guiding you to your rightful place in his mind, firmly on his lap. Your pretty face was so red, obviously embarrassed from the way you gave a small wave and bowed your head. like a scared little rabbit, they mused. "Thought I'd bring her 'round to meet you proper, so you don't have to stalk me 'gain." The Way he glanced between Price and Soap was impossible to miss, looking for their approval. Price took his time taking you in, every facet of your face, your demeanor, your actions. A satisfied nod immediately put Simon at ease, rolling his shoulders to relax them. Meanwhile, there was no questioning how Soap felt. You were so much prettier and sweeter up close, such a delicate little morsel. He had that look in his eye, that sparkle, that hunger. He had no issues trying to chat you up, encouraging you to drink your fill and call him 'Johnny'.

"This 's our pretty little thing." That simple line seemed to make everyone at the table pause, yourself included. Theirs? That meant? None of them should have been surprised, really. Simon clung tight to his hierarchy, and apparently you weren't going to break it, no, He had just nestled you in next to Johnny, under the category of 'his', maybe even below Johnny. "Our?" Your soft voice rang out as you looked over your shoulder at Simon, pulling an amused smirk to his lips beneath his mask. "Of course, love. Y're ours. You'll get used to it, lovie, don't you worry your pretty little head over it."

[ud505]

Mike/Matt/Chris/Josh crushing on Chubby/Thicker!reader :)?

Nsfw/sfw hcs ( either work) 🖤💙

Mike:

• This guy's an ass man, no one can convince me otherwise, so you can already imagine which part of your body he'll always look at (most of the time without realizing)

• Let's be honest, he didn't expect falling for you. He's one of those guys who likes model-looking people. So when he met you, he couldn't understand why he was so attracted to you (but he got used to it very easily)

• If the two of you are close, he'd hug you from behind just to "accidentally" touch your curves

• And he also likes to put his arm across your shoulders when you're close to him, squeezing your upper arm in a loving way

• Your chest is his personal pillow. While intimacy or not, he will put his face in your chest in a teasing way, and he might even get asleep in that way

• And may I say he loves to kiss you down towards your breasts/chest and then to your stomach

• He melts and gets turned on when he sees you with his clothes, he loves how good it looks on you

• Loves when you bent over. Just seeing how your tummy rolls gives him goosebumps. And he's absolutely purposely throwing things to the floor just to see you bend (so imagine how excited he'd get when you go down on him)

• He loves how warm it feels when the two of you are cuddling, especially after sex. It relaxes him in a way he can't express

Matt:

• I feel like he'd immediately think that you're insecure bc you're chubby, and he'd always compliment you to boost up your confidence

• He loves to cook, and if you like it too, he'd use it as an excuse to hang out more with you

• And he'd always surprise you with your favorite snack (or comfort food if you have one) when you're having a bad time

• Oh if he hears somebody body shaming you... He's a "you aren't a man if you body shame people" kinda guy, he can't stand it, and even less if someone's talking like that abt his partner

• He likes to lay on your stomach and thighs bc, apart from feeling like it's the best pillow anyone could ask for, bc he gets to get closer to you without being too weird

• Also, he'd smack your ass in an affectionate way sometimes

• And during intimacy? God, he's absolutely giving you spanks (making sure you don't get hurt, it's just that he can't help it but love it)

• If you have any stretch marks, he'd pass his hands around them and he'd kiss them regularly

• And oh, your lips. He loves to kiss you bc he loves them. They're so full and pretty he can't keep himself calm

Chris:

• As Mike, he's an ass man and can't help but look at your ass whenever you're with him

• And the same for your thighs. His mind goes crazy when you're wearing shorts or anything that makes them a bit visible

• He can't help it but to be shy around you, your sole existence makes him very nervous (and sometimes intimidated, even if he doesn't wanna admit it)

• He always thinks he's gonna mess up with gifts for you. When he wants to gift you some new clothes, he goes crazy thinking abt which size to buy you and immediately feels bad for it

• Can't help it but look at how your cheeks go up when you smile and laugh and how cute they look

• So one of the things he'd ask you a lot to do would be to play Just Dance with him. He wants to see you laugh and smile while he's being silly

• When he's playing some video games, he'd ask you to sit on his lap bc he finds it comforting asf

• And he'd literally beg you to ride him while you're doing it just to have his hands on your waist and ass

• And if you think that you're too big to ride him? Oh baby, he's gonna assure you that he can. He's kinda buffed and he has no problem with you being on top of him

Josh:

• He's not very good with being affectionate with people he has a crush on, so he'd make up any excuse to get close to you

• Hires a personal stylist just for you. He hates clothes for chubby people and, since he loves you and he wants the best for you, he'd surprise you with that "little" detail (bc he's rich, what else is he gonna do with his money?)

• Wants to kiss every single part of your body, especially the parts you're insecure abt

• He melts at the idea of showering with you while he hugs you from the back (not necessarily in a spicy way)

• And he totally likes to sleep hugging you as if you were his personal teddy bear (it helps him sleep way more than you could imagine)

• I feel like he's a biter guy, or at least that he likes to give hickeys, so imagine how wild his imagination would go when he realizes that he has "more skin" to bite

• And he's a skin pincher, he loves how soft your skin is and he's gonna do it every time he can (bonus points if your skin gets red, he's a sucker for that)

• He also loves to squeeze your thighs, especially when you're sat. He can't help but be mesmerized abt how chubby and squishy they look

• When the two of you are having a movie night, he'd put his head on your stomach or your lap and he'd caress your hands and/or your thighs (he can't help it, it's almost like an instinct)

[lexxiie]

could i request a imagine for shigaraki and hawks for a reader who loves to dance? ty!

When You Love To Dance

Yesssss!!!

Fandom: My hero academia

Featuring: shigaraki, hawks, dabi, overhaul x fem reader

SHIGARAKI

He knows you love to dance ever since he met you, but, as you may imagine, that's not really his field of expertise. When you go to events where dancing is common, you usually stay sat. You do it because you want to, and you don't wish to leave him alone, still, he feels bad about it.

A week ago, he asked you to teach him. He said he'd like to dance at least a bit with you when necessary, which obviously had you jumping with joy.

That's what led you here. A week later, on your living room, attempting to learn the basics. This had been the funniest experience for the both of you, at this point you didn't even care if he learned or not, the dancing lessons where enough of a reward.

You laughed loud as he stumped on your foot for the third time, and he pretended to be angry. "Stop!" You yelled while pushing him away from you, however, his feet got caught with the rug and he fell over you. Both of your bodies hit the floor shortly after and minutes went by before you could stop laughing. "I'm done, I don't want to do this anymore." He said, now annoyed, but you could tell he was just embarrassed. "Does that mean you don't like practicing with me?" You asked, making the saddest face you could. He couldn't resist it. "I do! I like it, It's just that I'm really bad at this and-" You cut his desperate babbling off with a kiss. Needless to say, the dancing sessions went on for longer.

HAWKS

Oh Hawks loves dancing as well, and he's fairly decent at it, too. He actually first met you at a party to commemorate heroes. You were there because of a friend and he was one of the stars of the event.

He was talking to a couple of his friends when all of a sudden, he stopped listening to everything they were saying when the most beautiful person he'd ever seen crossed his eyes. You were dancing with your friend and you looked absolutely gorgeous, he couldn't remember the last time he had been so attracted to someone, but here you were.

He had to approach you, and he did. He introduced himself (which wasn't needed) "I saw you from afar, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't ask you to dance at least one song with me." He said this as he offered you his hand, however, you looked back at your friend who hadn't come here with anyone else. "Thank you, but I'm good here," you responded with a kind smile, but before the hero could say anything else, your friend kicked you subtly, but hard. "Ouch!" You exclaimed as you turned to her, her face begging you to go with him. "Fine, one song won't make any harm." You told the hero. His face lightened with pure joy, and you definitely did not dance just one song. If he wasn't in love with you before, he totally was by the time the party was over.

Taking this precedent into account, dancing with you brings him great memories, so he loves it as much as you do.

DABI

He's not a dancer. It's not that he's terrible at it, he can surprisingly fend for himself on that field, though he isn't great either. The thing here is that he feels a bit ridiculous when he dances, at least not in public. Unless he's having a big melodramatic moment.

In private, however... He's the kind of man who whines about everything, but he's never ever complained when you approach him to dance in the comfort of your home. He actually likes it that way, he loves having you in his arms, and he enjoys doing anything that you love. Even if he pretends he doesn't.

And he loves to pretend that he's annoyed when you dance, as you do it quite often. Just like now. Dancing all over the kitchen with a bowl full of pancakes batter on your hands. "You'll drop that." He says as he rolls his eyes at you. "Of course not! I know what I'm doing!" You respond with a big smile on your face. "Come on, don't be such a killjoy, you should join me." He looks at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever, which only encourages you to put the bowl down and force your boyfriend to dance with you. He shows resistance at first, but you win him over quite quickly. The frown he had at first, now replaced by a subtle smile. It's just so hard to say no to you.

OVERHAUL

I mean... Define dancer. He isn't great at a club, but he sure is a good dancing partner at a wedding. Slow dancing is more his thing.

He doesn't love it, but he doesn't hate it either. He feels indifferent towards dancing overall, but he does not feel indifferent towards you at all. He'll comply with whatever makes you happy.

Kai had a very busy week. Your birthday was coming and he really wanted to throw you a nice party for your closest friends to attend, the thing is, he struggles a bit to keep it simple, so what was meant to be a tiny reunion, turned into a somewhat big event. He just felt like you deserve everything he can give you.

It had been a lot of work, but he was more than happy to do it. Especially now that he had you in his arms, with a beautiful dress, and the dancing floor under your feet. "Thank you so much, Kai." You say to him before laying a kiss on his lips. "Happy birthday, love. Anything for you." He responds, as he pulls away and places a strand of hair behind your ear. He would've never imagined himself doing this for anyone else, he thinks as he turns you around. He must really love you, right?

Masterlist

[m-jelly]

Protective

Mafia/gangster/yakuza Levi

"Mm."

Levi stared at you as tears filled your eyes. The more upset you were, the angrier he got. How dare someone make you cry? How dare someone hurt his precious love bunny. You were his goddess, queen, love, squishy cutie. He could tell you didn't want to give up the name of who hurt you because you were a good person, pure, and sweet, but he wasn't.

It was well known throughout the city and beyond that Levi, the most dangerous man, was deeply and madly in love with you. People would say that you might as well shoot yourself in the head than insult or hurt you, clearly, someone didn't get the memo.

He moved closer to you. "Come here."

You rubbed your tears away. "Mm."

"Come on, little bunny." He opened his arms. "Come to your grumpy kitty."

You dove into his arms and clung to him. "Levi."

He massaged his fingers in your hair as he soothed you as best as he could. "I'm right here." He kissed the side of your head a few times. "I love you. I love you so much. You're so precious to me."

"I love you, Levi."

He pulled back and rubbed your tears away. "Tell me what happened. Please?"

You opened up and revealed everything. A leader of a small gang bumped into you at a shop and began ripping into you about your looks, weight and worth in the world. Everything he said to you was non-stop insults and how Levi should have left you already for a better quality woman.

You sobbed a bit. "I'm sorry I'm not a high-quality woman."

He crashed his lips against yours. "Mm, are you kidding me? You're a goddess. You are incredible. You are perfection. I adore you and love you more than anything in this world." He cupped your face and massaged. "Ignore that fucker, okay? You're a perfect little bunny peach that I want to eat all the time."

Your cheeks heated up. "Leviiii."

He hummed a laugh when he saw you pouting. "You're so cute." He leaned closer and lightly bit your cheek. "My tasty bunny."

You mewled. "I want you, always. I love you, Levi."

He nuzzled his nose against yours. "Mm, mine." He played with your hair and kissed your temple. "Go wrap up warm in bed, okay? I have to head out and do something."

You let Levi push you to the bedroom. "Do what?"

He helped you into comfy clothes, which were mostly his, as he talked. "Something important."

You pulled on a cardigan of Levi's. "Levi."

He stiffened at your stern tone. He commanded many people and ordered others, but you were the only person who could command him. "Okay, okay, I'm going to see that gang leader Mr Hawes who spoke to you."

You followed him into the living room. "Levi?"

He wrapped a blanket around you before scooping you up into his arms. "I'm just gonna talk to him."

"Levi."

He sat you on the sofa. "I'm just gonna talk to him."

"Levi!"

He smiled at you. "I'm just gonna talk to him."

You pocked his puffy cheek. "I know what you're gonna do. Just...wear the leather gloves to protect your knuckles from cuts. Also, try not to get too much of his blood on you."

He kissed you and hummed in happiness. "Promise."

Taglist under the cut

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @anti-cupid @abiatackerman