#I JUST PLAYED A MATCH AND IT PLAYED IT AGAIN

[sometimesanalice]

Morgannn!! 💖 oh I’m so, so happy you liked this! Fluffy, fun, and flirty vibes for days!

I’m so happy that it was something that made you smile! 🥰🥰

More for you!!

Oh, this was absolutely delightful and fun and exactly what I needed after this week! I broke into giggles and a smile more times than I could count! I love everything you write, but sometimes you pop off with the best little details and phrasings and it's such a joy to read your writing!—🥹🥹🥹

And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place. 

Quite literally the vibe for modern dating, and especially with how many men always forget Feb 14th is a holiday!!!!!— I just imagined her being like “are you sure??” like five times and this guy being like “it’s a Wednesday like yeah”. But truly, the amount of me not utilizing the notifications on their built in calendar is a CRIME. But especially on international hearts day!

And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Men don't appreciate good fashion. That's why we dress for the group chat and ourselves!— the girlies(gn) just want to look and feel cute! But also, you know that group chat was popping off with the🔥 emoji, lol

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

This visual this gave me! A beacon of pink! Get her a drink!— goodness knows miss ma’am needs one! She was just trying to go with the flow and have fun! But I loved trying to find ways to highlight just how out of place she was there, not only like with how she felt but also the setting!

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

STOP, THIS GOT ME!— I MEAN CAN YOU IMAGINEEEEE

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

Snaps for Selleck mention.— the OG mustache man!

Oh.

AN ITALICIZED OH, SO YOU KNOW IT'S GOOD!!!— ITALICIZED OH SUPREMACY!! (Also I’m so endlessly tickled by the amount of support the italicized oh has gotten 😂 I know I posted about it specifically, but I love how much love we all have for those two little letters!)

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

This was entirely too relatable. Those jeans are too slutty and the group chat must know! (nothing wrong with taking a lil pic either 🤫) — I was so obsessed with the idea of her being like “you guys won’t believe what happened” and her phone just blowing up the other night of her best babes wanting allll the tea! You know the brunch talk is going to be popping! (But the slutty beans and that cock walks are a lethal combo!!)

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

This whole pool scene was so fun! You captured Jake and Bradley's game with so much descriptive detail, it made me want to watch the movie again! Jake would absolutely get hustled, that man has too much ego to not get played.— ahhhh!! This is the best thing you could have said because Morgan I know nothing about pool lmaooooo 😂 I was reading as much as I could and snooping on r/billiards to figure out what was going on hahaha! All the while cursing myself for deciding her ace needed to be her sneaky pool shark skills. He would SO get played, he wouldn’t be able to help himself!

In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. 

This is quite literally one of my favourite ways a kiss has been described. So visual, yet you can feel it. It's going to be rolling through my brain for a bit, I love it!— stopppp!!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 there’s always so much pressure to try and get a first kiss right, so that makes me so happy that it landed well with you!! 🫶🏻

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.  

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in. 

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own.  “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.  

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.  

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it.  But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞�� 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[satinprose]

stoned!ellie has an affinity for biting you—must be the munchies? mdni. cw  ;  weed,  biting,  bruises  from  said  biting,  tit  play,  marking  kink.

to ease your burdened mind, a joint is lit. friday evenings are reserved for this. you and ellie are booked and busy each week, friends are informed it's 'date night', yet there's no going out. ellie rolls in preparation, so that when you get to her place, you have nothing to worry about.

"mm, you first," you mumble, tenderly pushing ellie's offer back. she wrinkles her nose and shrugs her shoulders, retracting her hand and slipping the joint between her lips.

smoke fills the room, the familiar scent leaving your face screwed up. it's hard to discern if it's a pleasant or unpleasant smell. one of those things you always struggled with, at least until the nose blindness hits and it isn't quite so in-your-face anymore.

you pass it between each other, silent for a brief period as a movie plays in the background.

smoke billows out your mouth and, once it clears, you finally notice her. earthy eyes burning you, pink dusting the freckles of her cheeks, her tongue darting out to wet her parted lips. her expression only changes when you scoff, and she blinks in confusion.

"you look like you want to eat me alive," you say, tilting your head. "hm?"

ellie's shoulders drop and she lets out a deep sigh, leaning back. she matches your lazy smirk, eyes flicking up and down your body. "yeah, so what? c'mere."

"oh, yeah? oh i— ow! not this again."

her voice is muffled by your arm in her mouth. "sorry. bit too hard."

"you are not a fucking dog, you do not have to bite me."

"nooo, m' not a dog, i just loooove you." ellie holds your arm captive, kissing upwards—kissing, kissing, kissing, until she reaches collarbone and you feel her nip the skin between her teeth. "you're so cuuuute."

"you can't pull the cuteness aggression card." you sit with pursed lips and your eyes rolling as ellie begins to suck over the side of your neck. she's gentler with it this time, especially given you've still got a tender marking left behind from the last time she did this. "ellie."

"whaaat?" a small giggle leaves her lips and she once again, trails down to your clavicle. "no, no, that's not the reason this time, swear, ummm... i just got the munchies. i'm huungies."

"the munchies? ohh, you think you're so funny, do you?"

"yeah." you can hear the smartassery in her tone, the cheeky smile on her face. all of her movements are so slow, not at all calculated, but she finally reaches your chest and tugs at your shirt. "can you be the best girl ever and take this offfff?"

"fuck no," you mutter, "what's in it for me?"

"for you? uhhh... i will suck your tits. that's what's in it for you."

"oh, well." you heave a sigh and hand ellie the joint briefly. "fine, you've made an excellent argument."

ellie takes a quick hit off the joint as you pull your top off and she's left grinning stupidly through a cloud of smoke. "you're so cute, gimme, i need you."

you giggle along with ellie, leaning closer while she brings both hands up to grab at your tits. she gives you a kiss on the corner of your lips and makes sure it lingers, then dips down to your chest. she opens her mouth wide and bites your left breast, eyes closing.

it hurts a little but the pain is worth the pleasure. bites and hickeys taint your skin after minutes of this treatment, nipples sucked raw, but you don't care.

your mind is too hazy to care at all, especially with those pretty, chapped lips wrapped around your nipple, bloodshot eyes staring upwards into your own.

[lexiputellas]

Broken Vows

part2 - mdni

June 12th. Laundry day.

The monstrous, all-consuming, never-ending laundry day.

You remember when laundry was as simple as dropping off a bag of clothes at the dry cleaner and picking it up a few days later, crisp and fresh. That was before. Before life became an endless cycle of dirty socks, misplaced jerseys, and sheets that always seemed to need changing.

You start in Nora’s room. Nora, who is what some might call "spirited" but what you would call an absolute tornado. She plays football, like Alexia, but in terms of clothes, she is nothing like her mother. Alexia is meticulous. Methodical. Everything folded in perfect squares, socks matched like puzzle pieces. Nora? Chaos incarnate. At one point, you even wondered if she had ADHD, but then again, navigating a six-year-old’s mind is harder than you ever anticipated.

You strip the bed, replace the sheets, and move to Iris’s room.

The moment you step inside, a memory crashes over you. You and Alexia painting the walls, carefully placing the crib, folding tiny baby clothes. You were so pregnant with Iris that you joked about rolling around instead of walking. So big, so round, so full of expectation. But the reality was different. Harder.

You cried while feeding her, your nipples raw and bleeding. Your body didn’t feel like your own, you were right on the edge—so close to falling into postpartum depression that you still wonder if you actually did. Just a breath away from giving up.

But that was then. And today, you refuse to dwell on it.

You move to your bedroom, stripping the sheets, gathering Alexia’s clothes from the bathroom floor. You wash them the way she likes—because, of course, Alexia has a very specific way she likes things done. You are halfway through making the bed when her phone slips off the mattress, landing right on your foot.

Pain explodes up your feet.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hiss, grabbing your foot before bending down to retrieve the damn thing.

You think about texting one of the girls, letting them know Alexia left her phone at home. But as you glance at the screen, a name catches your eye.

Eva.

There are several messages. You shouldn't look. You know that. You know it’s wrong. But the urge is overwhelming.

Who the fuck is Eva?

Your heart pounds as your fingers hover over the screen. You know Alexia’s passcode. It used to be your birthday, then hers, then Nora’s. You try and it works, the messages open.

It’s not a long conversation. Not pages and pages, just a few days’ worth. But it’s enough.

*Where are you? I’m worried.*

*Did your wife give you a hard time for getting home late?*

You didn’t. You pretended to be asleep when Alexia climbed into bed last night.

*When will I see you again?*

Your stomach twists. Maybe Eva is just a friend. A close one, maybe even a best friend. But deep down, you know. You fucking know. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers move.

You type back, pretending to be Alexia.

*Last night was good.*

You hit send. Your heart is pounding.

It takes barely a moment for Eva to reply.

*Oh, just fine, yeah?* she asks, her words dripping with a quiet, simmering edge of something darker.

*Was it just good when you fucked me against the balcony?* she adds, that sharp edge now unmistakable, laced with a daring smirk you can almost hear.

You freeze. Your pulse spikes, the room spinning around you. The words blur. The world tilts.

Alexia fucked someone else.

Eva.

Eva, who?

Eva, the reason she stopped coming home for dinner?

Eva, the reason she stopped tucking the girls into bed?

Eva, the reason she started giving up on you?

The name pounds inside your skull like a drum, like a fucking rock concert reverberating through your entire being. You can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe.

You drop to the floor, staring up at the ceiling, hot tears pricking at your eyes.

Is Eva prettier than you? Does she fuck better than you? Is she hotter? Funnier? Nicer?

You don’t know what to do. You don’t even know how to exist in this moment.

A cry pulls you back.

Iris.

You forgot you left her in her playpen.

You wipe your tears, stand up, and go to her. She snuggles into your arms, warm and safe. You hold her close, pressing your lips against her tiny forehead, and think—What the fuck am I going to do?

———————————————

7 PM. Dinner is ready.

You always wait until 7:30 to see if Alexia is coming home. You text Jana, telling her Alexia left her phone behind. Jana just says, Okay.

Alexia arrives on time. Kit still on, hair in a messy bun, looking every bit like the woman you fell in love with. She comes straight to you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the girls, lifting them onto the kitchen counter as they sing along to something on the iPad.

She asks where her phone is.

"Upstairs," you say.

She kisses the girls again before heading up.

You had deleted the messages. Every single one. You’re not stupid.

When she comes back, phone in hand, she helps you set the table. You sit next to Iris, feeding her small bites, while Alexia chats with Nora. It feels normal. Eerily normal. Almost like the past.

You eat Dinner. Do the dishes. Put Nora to bed and Alexia tucks in Iris.

After being done you go to your bedroom, with an idea in mind.

Alexia is already there, sitting against the headboard, scrolling through her phone.

"You know what I was thinking?" you say.

She hums without looking up. "Hmm?"

"I got something for you. Want to see it?"

Her head tilts. She looks intrigued.

You haven’t bought or worn lingerie in years. Not since you stopped feeling like the woman who used to leave Alexia breathless. But you still have some—tucked away in the back of your closet, hidden like a past life.

"What it is? Show me," she says.

You step into the bathroom, slipping into the black lace. It hugs every curve, pushes up your breasts, makes you look almost unfamiliar to yourself. You barely recognize yourself.

But when you step out, Alexia does.

She stares.

Not just a glance—she looks at you like she used to, like she’s seeing something she forgot she could have. Like you’ve just stolen the air from her lungs.

Her phone slips from her fingers, forgotten.

You crawl onto her lap, slow, deliberate, feeling the heat radiating from her body the moment your thighs settle over hers.

Her hands move without hesitation—roaming, squeezing, claiming. Her breath is heavier, her fingers digging into your hips, trailing up your sides, gripping your waist like she’s trying to memorize you all over again.

"Fuck, baby," she murmurs, her lips dragging over your throat, her voice thick, ruined. "You look so fucking hot."

Her fingers move lower, tracing the lace, teasing the edge of the fabric. You roll your hips against her, slow and smooth, watching the way her jaw tenses, the way her fingers twitch against your skin.

She groans, low and guttural, her hands sliding up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms—like she needs to touch every inch of you. Her lips trail lower, hot and open-mouthed, sucking bruises into your collarbone, your breast, dragging her teeth over lace-covered skin.

Her hands are on your thighs, spreading you, guiding you against her. You grind down, chasing something desperate, moving against her fingers the second they find you—slick, eager, drowning in want. Her breath hitches as she pushes inside, stretching you, filling you.

Your forehead drops against hers, your breathing uneven, your body trembling. It’s messy. It’s hungry. It’s not enough.

And then—

You lean in, your lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, and whisper—

"Does Eva fuck like I do?"

Everything stops.

Alexia’s hands freeze inside you, her breath catching in her throat.

She pulls back just enough to see your face, her brows furrowing, her eyes flashing with something dark, something uncertain, something dangerously close to breaking.

She looks at you like she doesn’t understand.

Like she doesn’t want to understand.

You smile.

"Yeah, Alexia," you whisper, voice sharp, taunting, twisting the knife. "I’m not fucking blind."

[littlelamy]

Hi, i wanted to ask if you could write something with rafe cameron x baddie reader I'm talking like someone like maddy from euphoria. I'm sick of all the i can fix fics he needs someone who matches his freak

note: didn't know if you wanted smut, but i'm in a smutty mood 🙂‍↕️

you’re not the girl people warn him about. you’re the girl people warn him to stay the fuck away from.

rafe cameron is trouble. everyone knows it, everyone whispers about it when he walks into a room—spoiled rich boy with anger issues, a temper that burns too hot, too fast. he’s the kind of man that destroys anything good he touches, the kind that doesn’t just ruin lives, but enjoys doing it.

but you? you’re something else entirely.

when you meet, it’s not some soft, lingering moment. it’s heat. it’s pressure. it’s a collision. you’re in his space, dripping in gold and confidence, a dress so short and tight it should be illegal, lashes so long they sweep against your brow bone when you blink at him like you already know you own him. because you do.

"you're staring, cameron," you purr, swirling your drink, lips painted in the kind of red that stains, that marks.

his tongue swipes across his bottom lip, sharp blue eyes dragging over your body, slow and deliberate. he's cocky, always is, but you can see the way his fingers twitch at his sides. wanting. needing.

"not used to seeing a girl like you around here."

"that's because there aren’t girls like me," you correct, taking a step closer. the scent of your perfume, expensive and intoxicating, wraps around him. "you like what you see?"

he exhales a low chuckle, but there's something darker in his gaze. something dangerous. "i think you already know the answer to that."

it goes like this—fast, reckless, inevitable. you're both fire and gasoline, a match struck in the middle of a fucking drought.

"keep up, cameron," you taunt one night, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you lean against his car.

his jaw clenches, fingers flexing at his sides. "you love teasing me, don’t you?"

"i love watching you sqirm," you correct, tipping his chin up with a perfectly manicured finger before sauntering inside the club without a backward glance.

rafe isn't used to losing control, but with you…he doesn’t stand a fucking chance. he learns quick that you're not like the other girls who bat their lashes and let him call the shots. you push back. you challenge. you take and take and take, and he loves it. you’re not afraid of his temper, of the sharpness in his voice when things don’t go his way.

if anything, it turns you on.

and that drive him fucking crazy.

when he fucks you, it’s all-consuming, a battle of dominance neither of you really want to win. your nails rake down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake. his hand tightens around your throat, just enough to make you gasp, make your lashes flutter. he doesn’t fuck soft. he fucks like he needs it, like he’s been starving for it, like you’re the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.

"tell me who you belong to," he mutters against your skin, hand slipping between your thighs, fingers pressing into you just enough to tease.

"hmm," you hum, pretending to think. "i don't know, rafe. do you deserve to hear it?"

his smirk falters, grip tightening. "you're playing a dangerous game, baby."

"i always win," you whisper, dragging your nails down his chest before flipping the script, shoving him onto the bed. he lets out a sharp breath, watching you with dark, hungry eyes as you straddle his lap.

"fuck," he hisses as you grind against him, slow, teasing. "you’re gonna pay for that."

"good," you smirk, leaning down until your lips brush his ear. "make me."

he flips you before you can blink, but you’re faster. Before he can pin your hands, your legs wrap around his waist, twisting, flipping him onto his back. you straddle him again, nails trailing down his chest, smirking as his breath catches.

"what’s wrong, cameron? thought you were in charge?"

his hands grip your hips, hard enough to bruise, but you grind down against him, slow, deliberate, making him groan through clenched teeth. you lean forward, lips barely grazing his ear.

"you drive me so fucking insane," he growls, voice ragged.

you chuckle, dragging your tongue along the shell of his ear. "then lose your mind for me, cameron. if...you can keep up."

and he does. every single time.

he fucks you until you’re shaking, until his name spills from your lips without hesitation, without defiance, until you’re gasping, clawing at his back, needing more, more, more.

and in the aftermath, when you’re tangled in his sheets, bodies still buzzing with the aftershocks, he looks at you with something dangerous in his gaze. like he’s addicted. like he’s never letting you go.

"mine," he murmurs, tracing a possessive line down your spine.

you don’t argue. you just smirk, pressing a kiss to his jaw, already thinking of all the ways you’ll test him again tomorrow.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[i-dared-myself]

Both of Theirs, but Not Allowed

Seonghwa x reader x Hongjoong

In which Seonghwa and Hongjoong like the friend they’re not supposed to.

18+

“So my friend is coming over,” Yeosang casually says. He stretches out on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “And absolutely no one is allowed to fuck her.”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue and motions to Yeosang’s legs. “Feet off the furniture.”

“And why are you so sure we’d sleep with her?” San asks, raising an eyebrow. He shifts and crosses his legs at the ankles, splayed out on the floor. 

“She’s just…” Yeosang trails off, eyes flicking to Mingi. “Don’t have sex with her, okay? I don’t want any of you to break her heart.”

Mingi scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Firstly, you seem very sure that we’re all going to want her. Secondly, it’s just sex. It doesn’t have to be more.”

Yeosang huffs in frustration. “You’ll see when you meet her. Just… Off limits, okay?”

Seonghwa smiles softly, sitting on the armrest of the couch. “Don’t worry, Yeosang. I’m certain we can resist the temptation that is your friend.” His words are tinged with a mocking tone, and his eyes glint. 

Hongjoong chuckles, looking up from his phone to finally join the conversation. “We get it, Yeosang. You love your friend and don’t want any of us to scar her.”

Yeosang doesn’t seem so convinced, narrowing his eyes at the group. “No, I mean it. Be nice, don’t fuck her, and oh my gosh, don’t have a crush on her.”

Jongho stands up, walking to the kitchen. He turns the stove on and pulls out a set of pots. “It’ll be fine. Just have her over and we’ll be normal.”

Yunho winces. “Right. Normal.”

So when you come over, they all go weak at the knees. Yeosang warned them, but it wasn’t good enough.

The doors opens, and you’re standing there. Yeosang drags you inside, and you stumble in behind him. Everyone greets you cheerily, confused by what Yeosang meant about you being hot.

You’re good-looking, but they’re not drooling like he had made it sound. You have wide-eyes as you survey the group and the dorms, matching adorably with the way your lips part at every word Yeosang says.

It’s like you’re entranced, hooked by every thought he has.

But again, not particularly risk-your-friendship-for fuckable. 

Then you blink up at Hongjoong, smiling shyly. You duck your head, murmuring out, “Hi, Hoongjong. I- Yeosang didn’t say you’d be so, um, nice to the eyes?”

“It’s Hongjoong,” Hongjoong gently corrects. “And thank you.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” You face Yeosang, frowning at him. “Why didn’t you quiz me on their names to prepare?”

Yeosang sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “I did, remember?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh! Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Want to play Minecraft?” Yeosang points his chin to the living room, where a couple of game controllers sit. When you nod eagerly, he leads you to the couch and hands you one.

“So which button makes me destroy stuff?” you question once the game starts. You glance at Seonghwa, who’s settled next to you. “Help? Please?”

Seonghwa hums and reaches over, pressing the right button. Your character breaks the block in front of them, and you grin.

“Thank you!” you gush, flipping the controller peer at which one he pressed. “You have nice hands.”

Seonghwa swallows, watching as you play your game. You’re oblivious to the fact that you just complimented him- and he likes compliments. “Thanks.”

Wooyoung flicks the back of Yeosang’s head. “Sit on the floor. There’s not enough room on the couch for all of us. You brought your friend, so you sit on the floor.”

“No, I’ll do it!” You slide off the furniture and sit cross-legged on the ground. Yunho takes your spot on the couch, now next to Seonghwa. He misses the dirty look the older man sends him.

“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” Hongjoong remarks, gazing down at you. He pulls a pillow out from behind him and offers it to you. “Here.”

You shuffle up to your knees, crawling between  his legs to take the pillow. You tip your head up, looking between your lashes. “Thank you, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong chokes for a moment, the sight of you kneeling between his legs too much. Too much and not enough. “You’re welcome.”

“Did I get your name right?” you excitedly ask. You move a bit closer, touching the insides of his thighs with your shoulders.

“Back to the game!” Yeosang snaps. “There’s zombies!”

You gasp, mouth parting in an ‘O’ with your glossy lips. Hongjoong barely stops a groan from slipping from him. 

“Wait, it’s sheep that make beds, right?” You frown at Yeosang, adjusting the pillow from beneath you. “We still need some in our house.”

“Yeah. Sheep drop wool and then you use it to make beds,” Yeosang tells you, eyebrows pulling together when you just place wool on the ground. “No, that’s not…”

“I’m hungry,” Mingi complains. “Anyone want to go out for dinner?”

Yeosang pauses Minecraft, looking at you. “Hungry?”

“Yeah, but not for dinner.” You sigh heavily, tipping your head backwards and making eye contact with Hongjoong.

He swallows and leans down. “What are you hungry for, baby?”

Yeosang’s eyes lock on Hongjoong, lips tilting downwards.

“Dessert,” you answer Hongjoong, eyebrows pulling together. “What were you thinking?”

“Yeah.” Yeosang gets to his feet and takes your controller from you. He returns it to its spot on the shelf and glares at Hongjoong. “What were you thinking?”

“Let’s just have a nice dinner,” Yunho says, rolling his eyes. He knows where this evening is going, and he knows Yeosang won’t like it.

“Let me just go fix my face,” you say before jumping up. You run down the hallway before Jongho yells that the bathroom is in the other direction. You squeak before turning the right way.

Seonghwa stands and declares, “I’m going to go change.”

The others all sigh before following his lead, wandering off to put on formal clothes, or at least not sweatpants. Seonghwa waits for them to be gone before he trails after you.

You’re pouting at your reflection, trying to make the perfect winged eyeliner. But the sides aren’t matching and you’re growing frustrated.

Seonghwa wordlessly plucks it from your grasp, wiping away the still-wet lines. He applies enough pressure that it all comes off with one swipe, and he redoes it.

Seonghwa draws the perfect wings and smiles down at you, at adorable you. “Better, little one?”

You glance in the mirror again before jumping and wrapping your arms around him. “It’s so good!”

Seonghwa pats your cheek once you pull away. “Run along now, pretty thing. Yeosang’s probably searching for you.”

You grin before racing off to find your friend, and Seonghwa knows. He knows that he has to ruin you, and he knows who will gladly assist him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is a nice restaurant,” you comment as the group enters. The tables have fancy silk draped over them, and you know you won’t be able to afford this. “Yeosang…”

“Yeah?” Your friend pops up from behind Wooyoung, having gotten lost in the crowd. 

“This place looks expensive,” you whisper once he’s at your side. You wring your hands nervously, bringing your thumb up to your mouth to chew nervously.

Yeosang rubs your shoulder assuringly. “I’ve got you covered.”

Hongjoong reaches over and drags your hand away from your mouth. “It’s on me, actually. I’m treating.”

Yunho grins ear to ear. “Sounds good to me.”

Seonghwa brings a napkin out from his pocket, which he just has for some reason, and wipes your hand. “Let’s grab our seats, yes?”

Somehow you end up between Seonghwa and Hongjoong, while Yeosang pouts. Apparently he had tripped and Hongjoong had swooped in to steal what would’ve been his spot. You just read your menu, oblivious to it all.

You sip at your water as you debate what to order. There’s a pasta dish that looks good, but you don’t know how to say the name of it. You really don’t want to have to say it to the waiter.

“Something catch your eye?” Seonghwa murmurs into your ear. His fingers trail down to your menu, pushing it down so he can read over it.

“Uh.” You point to the pasta dish, biting your lip anxiously. “I just- It’s hard to say.”

Seonghwa hums lowly, folding up your menu. When the waiter walks by, he flawlessly tells them what you want. 

“Thank you,” you brightly say, bouncing your leg excitedly. “You’re so sweet, Seonghwa.”

His cheeks are a dusty pink as he lets the rest of the table order before saying what he wants. You look around the restaurant, leg continuing its nervous movements.

“Baby.” Hongjoong’s hand rests on your knee, applying a steady pressure. “Is something wrong?”

“What?” You whip around to face him before ducking your head shyly. “Uh, yeah. I just- There’s just, um, there’s a lot of new people here.”

“Ah.” Hongjoong’s thumb starts to move in soothing circles on your bare skin, right below your skirt. “It’s okay, little one. I can bring you home anytime you want.”

You squirm and shake your head. “I want dessert.”

He chuckles and looks around you to Seonghwa. “So do I. What do you think, Seonghwa?”

The man in question rakes his hand through his hair, humming lowly. “I can’t wait.”

You squint at them. “You must really like chocolate cake.”

Hongjoong’s hand slides further up your thigh. “No, baby.”

Seonghwa sighs, smiling fondly at you. “You’re not the brightest, are you?”

You fidget, thighs squeezing together. “I- I-“

Hongjoong retracts his hand and leans back in his chair. “Aw, it’s okay. You’d look so pretty cockdumb.”

“Like she’s not dumb already.” Seonghwa laughs under his breath, swirling the wine in his glass. His lips curl up at you. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You blink at him, squirming in your seat. “Uh, you? You’re right in front of me.”

“No, he meant if you’re dating anyone.” Hongjoong picks up his wine glass by the stem. He peers into his drink before his eyes flick back up to your face. “Answer him, little one.”

“I- No.” You shake your head and grip the fabric of your skirt. “Not right now.”

Seonghwa reaches down and smoothes his own hand over the material, getting rid of any wrinkles you may have caused. “Yeosang watches after you so carefully, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.” You glance over at your friend, who’s deep in conversation with Mingi. “He’s so nice.”

“It’s because you’re so cute.” Hongjoong cups your cheek. “You know that, right?”

You duck your head again, but Seonghwa tilts your head back up with two fingers. He smiles, lips slanting into a seductive expression. 

“Have you had sex before?” he murmurs. He looks past you to Hongjoong before returning his attention to you.

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter out. You bite at the tip of your index finger, stomach twisting in a way that’s not unpleasant. 

Hongjoong draws your finger away from your mouth. “Baby-“

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”Yeosang’s voice cuts through the little bubble the three of you have created. His expression is furious as he gets to his feet, chair screeching behind him.

You blink at him, eyebrows pulling together. “They were just asking me if I’ve had sex before.”

“Nuh-uh!” Yeosang marches over, glaring at the two of them. They don’t even look sheepish. “You know the rules!”

“What rules?” You frown at him, not understanding what he’s talking about. 

“Sorry,” Hongjoong says. He tucks his hands neatly in his lap, expression neutral as he gazes at your friend. “We were just trying to get to know her.”

Seonghwa nods along and under the table his fingers press against your clothed pussy. “It won’t happen again. We wouldn’t want to break her heart, after all.”

Your stomach flutters at the sensations Seonghwa is creating. “I- I’m sorry, Yeosang.”

His expression softens. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you, just these two assholes.”

Dinner arrives, and you eagerly dig into your pasta. It’s delicious and you finish it quickly.

“Do you want dessert, or do you want to come back with us?” Seonghwa mutters lowly into your ear.

You shiver as his breath ghosts the shell of your ear. “I wanna go with you.”

Hongjoong pays the cheque before everyone files out the door and you call a cab.

“Where are you going?” Yeosang asks you as you step away from the group. 

“Home.” You hug him goodbye, waiting until he’s out of sight to face Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “So, uh-“

Seonghwa dips his head down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet. His lashes flutter as he pulls away. 

Before you regain your breath, Hongjoong is grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fiercely.

“The cab is here,” Seonghwa says, breaking you and Hongjoong out of your trance. The three of you pile into it and you give the driver directions to your apartment, impatient for the night to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong drapes himself across your armchair, propping an elbow up on an armrest. He uses it to rest his chin on his fist as he gazes at you with hooded eyes.

Seonghwa perches himself on the other armrest, crossing his legs. He reaches over to squeeze Hongjoong’s shoulder. “How are we doing this, hmm?”

You stand at the edge of the carpet that goes under the furniture. You’re unsure of where they want you, or how this is going to work.

“Ah.” Hongjoong runs his tongue along his upper row of teeth. “Baby, bend over the couch.”

You do as he says and walk over to the couch. You can feel their eyes on you as you tip over so your weight is on your hips, supported by the armrest. You’re on the tips of your toes like this, head tilted to the side to see them.

“Good,” Hongjoong praises. He nudges Seonghwa, giving you a pointed look. “Go prep her.”

Seonghwa glides over to you, leaning over you so your bodies are pressed together. “Do you think you’ll go cockdumb, little one? When you’re stuffed full of us, mind going blank?”

You whimper, feeing him grind up against you.

“I said to prep her,” Hongjoong sharply interrupts, “not to rub your dick on her.”

Seonghwa sighs and rocks back on his heels to give you space. “Very well, then. Pussy and ass?”

“Have you ever had something up your ass?” Hongjoong inquires. When you don’t immediately reply, his lips quirk up in amusement. “Aw, don’t go shy on us now.”

You swallow and look over your shoulder at Seonghwa. He’s as gorgeous as ever, hair falling around his face to frame it perfectly.

“Have you ever played with your other hole?” Seonghwa gently asks, understanding that your brain isn’t the fastest. He grips your chin to redirect your attention to Hongjoong.

“Oh.” You blink. “No.”

“Then we won’t today.” Hongjoong smiles at Seonghwa. “Just pussy.”

Seonghwa hums, releasing your chin. His fingers trail over your face and he strokes your cheek. “Ready?”

You nod. “Uh-huh.”

Seonghwa kicks your feet apart harshly, widening the space between your legs. He flips up your skirt and yanks your underwear down your legs.

“Look at that cunt.” He grins and kneads at your asscheeks. “I can’t wait for my cum to drip out of you, staining your thighs white. If you’re lucky, I’ll plug you up to keep you full with me.”

Hongjoong clicks his tongue in annoyance. “We both know I’ll fuck it out of her. Now hurry this up. You haven’t even touched her yet.”

“He touched me.” You scowl at Hongjoong. You lick your lips, swiping your tongue over them. “He’s touching me right now.”

“Not what he meant, little one,” Seonghwa gently tells you. He kisses the base of your neck as an apology for his words before sinking to his knees.

His tongue delves into you suddenly, and with no warning you try and squirm away. Seonghwa’s hand’s come to your hips and he pulls you back to his mouth. He flattens his tongue as he drags it over your clit, making you whine and try to get away again.

“Stay- Stay still!” Seonghwa grunts before his hands tighten their grip on your hips. He gets frustrated and lifts his head up to Hongjoong. “Can you keep her still?”

Hongjoong nods and approaches. His hands wrap around your wrists and he tugs you off the couch, laying you across the floor. Seonghwa finds his place between your thighs again, as Hongjoong straddles your chest.

“Want something in your mouth, baby?” 

You nod and open your mouth obediently, eager to please. Your eyes widen in surprise as he plunges two of his fingers in, choking on him.

“I’m surprise you have a gag reflex,” Hongjoong comments, flexing his hand to hit the back of your throat. “You’re just too stupid to do much, so I figured this might be the one trick you know.”

Seonghwa hums against you, the vibrations from his voice making you shudder. Hongjoong presses harder against you, using his body weight to keep you down as your hips try to buck up.

You moan around Hongjoong’s digits, eyes watering. You wiggle around as Seonghwa presses a finger into you, causing Hongjoong to apply more pressure to keep your head down as well. You gurgle around him as Seonghwa pushes another finger into you.

It’s two much, two quick, and your eyes roll back with a powerful orgasm. Hongjoong gives you air, and you gasp it in. Then he’s thrusting his fingers back into your mouth and muffling your sounds of pleasure.

Seonghwa scissors his two fingers in you, stretching you out in a way that makes you give Hongjoong a look of desperation. He chuckles and uses his thumb to stroke your upper lip.

“So pretty,” he remarks. “Are you going to cry? I think you’d be pretty if you cried. Seonghwa, make her cry.”

Seonghwa removes his digits with a hum of acknowledgment, shuffling out of his clothes. He shoos Hongjoong away, who crouches by your head instead of straddling your chest. Seonghwa places his hands on either side of your head, smiling down at you as he lays his body over yours.

“Usually I’d prep a bit more, but Hongjoong wants to see you cry,” he murmurs. He seems to relish in the moment of anticipation, with you waiting for him to split you in half. Seonghwa’s head dips so his lips graze your throat as he pushes into you.

It’s definitely a stretch, and he doesn’t ease himself in. All of his cock enters you at once, effectively making tears burn at the corners of your eyes.

But what makes them spill out is when his teeth bury themselves where your neck meets your shoulder. He bites hard, making you clench around him, back arching.

“Oh, she does look pretty when she cries.” Hongjoong sounds pleased, craning his neck to study your face and the tears that roll down it. “Is your head empty yet? Are you too full of cock to actually have thoughts?”

Seonghwa snaps his hips into yours, twirling some of your hair around his finger. “Yeosang told us not to do this. But you like it, don’t you?”

You nod stupidly, not even sure who you’re responding to. Hongjoong? Seonghwa? You don’t know anymore.

Seonghwa coos at you. “Oh, I think she went cockdumb. Look at her, Hongjoong.”

“I won’t even get a turn since she’ll be like this.” Hongjoong sighs heavily and waves a hand at you. He settles back on the couch, legs parting so he can touch himself through his pants. “Do you think she’d be a good cocksleeve?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa answers, rolling his hips into yours. You moan, only faintly aware of the conversation they’re having over your head. “She grips me so perfectly. Are you having fun, little one?”

Your head lolls to the side so you can make eye contact with Hongjoong, who’s smirking. Your walls flutter, which makes Seonghwa groan and his thrusts stutter.

“He asked you a question,” Hongjoong tells you, undressing himself. “Did you hear Seonghwa?”

You whimper and glance up at the man fucking you, biting your bottom lip as you try to remember what he had asked. Was it something about work? 

“I- I-“ You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m a waitress.”

Seonghwa sighs in disappointment, tsking at you. He pinches your nipples between his fingers, causing you to whine. “Here’s what’s going to happen, pretty thing. I’m going to cum inside you, and then Hongjoong is going to fuck you.”

“Y-Yeah,” you murmur under your breath, trying to crawl away for some reason. It just feels too good. You can’t take more of this for much longer.

“Baby.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Is it okay to cum inside you?”

You lift your glassy eyes up to his face. “Uh, yeah. Do it.”

Seonghwa pounds into you for a few more times before groaning with an orgasm. You watch his face as his eyes roll back and his lips part. Your legs tremble as Hongjoong scoops you up to deposit you on his lap- and cock.

“Oh, don’t mind him.” Hongjoong whispers to you as Seonghwa shuffles closer on his knees. He rests his chin on Hongjoong’s thigh, watching as you’re lowered down onto Hongjoong’s dick. “He gets a bit clingy after he cums.”

You look up at Hongjoong’s face, at the way his bottom lip rolls into his mouth as he rocks his hips into your experimentally. Seonghwa crawls up onto the couch, kissing you as Hongjoong fucks you.

His tongue slips into your mouth, muffling your cries. Seonghwa seems to drink up your noises, smiling against your lips. His hands go down to your clit to make tiny circles.

Hongjoong reaches to stroke Seonghwa’s cock, grinning when the other man hisses. “Aw, too much?”

Seonghwa finally gives you room to breathe, scowling at Hongjoong. His eyebrows furrow in frustration. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Hongjoong’s thumb rolls over Seonghwa’s slit. “Fucking our little girlfriend.”

You make a small sound of confusion, putting your hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders. “What?”

“Don’t you want to be our girlfriend?” Seonghwa presses his forehead to yours. “We’d hug you, and date you, and fill you up like this as much as you want.”

Hongjoong continues to thrust into you, waiting until you orgasm to have his own. He lays you down on the couch before Seonghwa wanders off for a glass of water.

“Well?” Hongjoong prompts. 

“Yeah.” You lace your fingers together with his. “I’ll be your girlfriend. Both of yours.”

Seonghwa returns with a drink for you, helping you sit up to take it. “Let’s wait a little while to tell Yeosang. I have a feeling he won’t like this development.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche

@iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @lezleeferguson-120 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | The Set-Up | Chapter One

Summary: Joe Burrow never liked talk shows, but a post-Super Bowl appearance on The Tonight Show was part of the job. He expected scripted questions, football talk, and a few forced laughs with Jimmy Fallon. What he didn’t expect? A surprise guest—Riley Carter, the lead singer of The Rambles, a band he’s quietly admired for years. A harmless game of “Love Match” turns into national TV humiliation when Joe picks Riley over every celebrity presented—only to have her walk out onto the stage moments later. What started as his worst nightmare might just turn into something much more interesting.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 5.6k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, talk show ambush, secondhand embarrassment, and undeniable chemistry

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: And so it begins! I wanted to set the stage for Joe and Riley’s story with an unforgettable (and hilariouslyuncomfortable) first meeting. Their chemistry is immediate but unexpected, and this talk show moment will definitely be something neither of them forgets. Buckle up—this is only the beginning! Let me know what you think! 😊💛

The air in the greenroom was stuffy, the leather couch sticking to Joe's palms as he shifted uncomfortably. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the glass table in front of him, condensation pooling around its base. He glanced at his phone—thirty minutes until showtime. Thirty minutes until he would be paraded out in front of a live studio audience like some kind of trained animal, expected to perform and charm and be witty.

He knew when he signed up to be a professional football player that there would be specific commitments he'd be uncomfortable with. At the top of that list? Talk show interviews. Yet, here he was, just weeks after his team's heartbreaking Super Bowl loss, sitting under the fluorescent lights of a Tonight Show greenroom, mentally preparing himself to face Jimmy Fallon and millions of viewers.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, carefully styled by the show's hair and makeup team despite his protests that he "looked fine." In his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and silver Converse sneakers, he felt more comfortable than he would have in a suit and tie. He liked to keep things casual, understated—nothing that would draw unnecessary attention. His personal style was cool and effortlessly stylish, and thankfully his stylist had allowed him to wear his own clothes rather than forcing him into formal attire for this appearance.

"Ten minutes, Mr. Burrow," a production assistant called, poking her head through the door with a clipboard pressed to her chest. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm good," Joe said, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks."

As the door closed again, he exhaled heavily. Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't that he disliked Jimmy—by all accounts, the host was a decent guy. But there was something about these talk shows that made Joe feel exposed, vulnerable. Football was different. On the field, he was in control. He knew the plays, understood the game, could anticipate the defense's moves. But talk shows? They were unpredictable. And Joe Burrow didn't do unpredictable if he could help it.

His phone buzzed with a text from his mom: *Good luck tonight! We're all watching!*

Great. More pressure.

The same PA appeared again, this time with more urgency. "Mr. Burrow? We're ready for you."

Joe stood, straightening his sweater and taking one last deep breath. Game face on. Just like preparing to take the field, except the arena was a brightly lit stage, and the opponents were awkward questions and his own social anxiety.

As he followed the PA through the maze of corridors, the dull roar of the audience grew louder. The studio was packed, every seat filled, the energy palpable even from backstage. A makeup artist rushed over for a final touch-up, dabbing powder on his forehead with practiced efficiency.

"You're on after the monologue," the stage manager explained, positioning Joe just offstage. "When Jimmy introduces you, just walk out, wave to the audience, and take a seat on the couch."

Joe nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Simple enough.

The show's theme music blared, and Joe could see Jimmy bound onto the stage, his trademark enthusiasm drawing immediate cheers from the audience. As the host launched into his monologue, Joe tried to focus on his breathing, on the solid ground beneath his feet, on anything but the fact that in a few minutes, he'd be on national television.

The audience's laughter ebbed and flowed with Jimmy's jokes, a few about the Super Bowl making Joe wince internally. Still too soon.

"Our first guest tonight is one of the NFL's brightest stars," Jimmy was saying now, his voice cutting through Joe's thoughts. "Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, please welcome Joe Burrow!"

The audience erupted, and Joe stepped onto the stage, the bright lights momentarily blinding him. He raised a hand in greeting, mustering a smile as he crossed to Jimmy, exchanged a brief handshake and half-hug, then settled onto the couch.

"Joe Burrow!" Jimmy exclaimed, as if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. "Man, it's great to have you here. How are you feeling after the Super Bowl? You guys played an incredible game."

And so it began—the usual questions about the season, about his teammates, about his plans for next year. Joe fell into the familiar rhythm of athlete interviews, giving just enough to seem engaged without revealing anything too personal. Always polite, occasionally funny, but careful. Measured. The Joe Burrow the public knew and the media expected.

Jimmy was mid-monologue when Joe realized this was going to be far worse than he thought. The host's expression shifted into something mischievous, a clear signal that the carefully structured interview was about to veer off course.

"So, Joe, we're going to play a little game tonight. I think you're going to love it. Or hate it. I don't know—you tell me after."

Joe's shoulders tensed, his fingers curling imperceptibly into the couch cushion beneath him. This wasn't part of the prep his publicist had gone over. "Uh... okay?" he managed, already feeling a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck.

"It's called Love Match. It's simple—I'll show you two people, and you pick who you'd rather hang out with. No pressure, totally harmless."

The audience tittered with anticipation, and Joe felt his pulse quicken. He hated these kinds of segments—the ones designed to create viral moments at the expense of guests' dignity. But there was no graceful way to refuse now, not with the cameras rolling and millions watching.

Joe wiped his palms on his jeans, the denim rough against his clammy hands. He was already regretting saying yes to this interview, already calculating how he'd face his teammates after whatever embarrassment was about to unfold. "Sure, let's do it," he muttered, earning knowing laughter from the audience who clearly recognized his discomfort.

Jimmy grinned and turned to the screen behind them, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, first up—Bella Hadid or Riley Carter?"

Joe blinked, the name triggering an immediate reaction he couldn't control. Riley Carter. The name hit him like a freight train, derailing his carefully maintained composure. He knew her. Well, he didn't know her, but he knew *of* her. The lead singer of The Rambles, a band he'd been following since his college days. Her voice had been the soundtrack to some of his most significant moments—draft night, his first NFL win, even the quiet moments on the team bus when he needed to center himself.

It was more than just appreciating her music. There was something about her that had always caught his attention. The raw honesty in her lyrics, the way she carried herself in interviews, a confidence that seemed effortless and real. She was stunning too—blonde hair that fell in perfect waves, piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be looking right through you, a smile that could light up a room. It was a crush he'd been keeping to himself for a long time, not even sharing it with teammates during those late-night conversations when everyone else revealed their celebrity fantasies.

"Uh..." He shifted in his seat, stalling as his mind raced. He could lie, pick Bella Hadid like most guys probably would. The safe choice. The expected answer. But something made him hesitate. "Riley Carter," he finally said, the name feeling strange to say out loud in this context.

The audience cheered, and Jimmy's eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "Interesting! Alright, Riley Carter or Zendaya?"

Joe gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he realized he was now committed to this path. "Riley Carter."

"Oh, wow, she's on a roll!" Jimmy teased, clearly enjoying Joe's discomfort. "Alright, Riley or Kendall Jenner?"

Joe shook his head and smiled to himself, resigned to his fate. If he was going to be embarrassed on national TV, he might as well be honest. "Still Riley."

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, feigning shock as the audience's cheers grew louder. "Well, folks, I think we've found the most loyal man in Hollywood. Joe, it seems like Riley Carter's got your full attention!"

Joe tried to laugh it off, though he could feel the heat rising in his face, the telltale warmth that he knew meant he was turning crimson. "Yeah, I guess so," he managed, trying to seem casual despite the fact that his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Jimmy glanced offstage with a sly grin that immediately set off alarm bells in Joe's head. That look—he'd seen it before on other talk shows. It was the look that preceded the ambush, the surprise that made for great TV but terrible personal experiences.

"Well, that's convenient because—surprise—I happen to know Riley personally. In fact, I invited her to the show tonight. Everyone, please welcome Riley Carter!"

The audience roared, a wall of sound that seemed to fade into the background as Joe's world narrowed to a single point. This couldn't be happening. His private admiration—not even admitted to his closest friends—was about to be thrust into the spotlight in the most mortifying way possible.

And then she was there, emerging from the wings, walking toward him with the easy grace he'd only seen in music videos and concert footage. Riley appeared from backstage, looking effortlessly stunning in a white silk crop top and high-waisted flared pants that accentuated her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face that was even more beautiful in person than on screen. The studio lights caught the subtle highlights in her hair, the gleam of her simple gold earrings, and the soft pink of her lips.

Joe's stomach dropped, a physical sensation like missing a step on a staircase. Pure, unadulterated panic coursed through him as the distance between them closed. He shot to his feet, operating on autopilot, his mom's voice in his head reminding him to stand when a woman entered the room.

She approached with a smile that seemed genuinely warm rather than the practiced expression of a celebrity forced into an uncomfortable situation. Up close, Joe noticed details he'd never been able to see on screens—the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the striking blue of her eyes, the small scar near her left eyebrow.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked as she leaned in for a quick hug, her voice softer in person than he'd expected.

The scent of her perfume—something subtle and warm, like vanilla and bergamot—briefly surrounded him as they embraced. Joe's brain short-circuited, processing the surreal reality that Riley Carter—*the* Riley Carter—was hugging him on national television after he'd just admitted to basically having a crush on her.

"Good. Huge fan, by the way," Joe managed, his voice slightly shaky, aware of how utterly inadequate the words were. *Huge fan*? Could he sound any more like a cliché?

"Thanks," Riley said warmly, showing no sign that she found this situation as bizarre as he did. She took her seat on the couch beside him, close enough that he could see the delicate gold bracelet on her wrist, could smell that subtle perfume again.

Jimmy clapped his hands together, clearly thrilled with the success of his surprise. "Alright, Joe, Riley, this is already off to a great start. Riley, I hope you don't mind, but I've been telling Joe all about you."

Riley turned to Joe, her brow raised playfully, a hint of mischief in her striking blue eyes. "Oh, really? Should I be worried?"

Joe chuckled nervously, hyperaware of the cameras capturing every expression, every movement. "Probably."

Jimmy laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "Joe's been very consistent tonight, Riley. Picked you over everyone. Kendall Jenner? Nope. Zendaya? Nope. It was Riley Carter every time. You're basically his MVP."

Joe fought the urge to slide down into the couch and disappear. This was beyond embarrassing—it was excruciating. Having his private thoughts broadcast not just to an audience but to the very person those thoughts centered on made him want to evaporate on the spot.

But Riley seemed to take it all in stride, grinning as she looked over at Joe with what appeared to be genuine amusement rather than discomfort. "Well, loyalty is important, right?"

Her easy response gave Joe a lifeline, something to grasp onto in this sea of mortification. "That's what I was going for," he replied, a small smile finding its way to his lips despite the circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

Jimmy leaned forward, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret, though of course his microphone ensured the entire studio audience—and millions of viewers—could hear every word. "You know, Riley, Joe told me earlier that this is his worst nightmare."

Joe groaned, running a hand down his face, wishing he'd never confided that particular fear to the host during their pre-show chat. "Jimmy, don't do this to me," he pleaded, but there was no stopping the train now.

Riley laughed, the sound light and musical, clearly enjoying his discomfort but not in a malicious way. "Oh, really? And why's that, Joe?"

He glanced at her, his cheeks tinged red, feeling like he was back in high school being called on in class when he hadn't done the reading. "Uh... because now I look like a total idiot?"

"You're doing fine," she said, her voice soft and reassuring in a way that suggested she understood exactly how uncomfortable he was.

Jimmy clapped his hands, clearly pleased with the chemistry unfolding before him. "See? She thinks you're doing fine. That's progress! Alright, we've got to take a quick commercial break, but don't go anywhere—we'll be back with more from Joe Burrow and Riley Carter!"

As the red light on the main camera switched off, signaling they were no longer live, Joe exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly with the temporary reprieve. The studio lights remained bright, the audience still watching expectantly, but at least they had a moment's pause from the national spotlight.

The camera crew moved into position for the commercial break, adjusting equipment and checking angles. Jimmy turned his attention to a producer who had approached with a clipboard, leaving Joe and Riley with a moment to themselves on the couch.

Riley leaned slightly toward Joe, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "So, this is your worst nightmare, huh?"

The proximity, the subtle scent of her perfume, the direct eye contact—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Joe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You have no idea," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty.

She laughed softly, the sound more intimate now that it wasn't performative for an audience. "You know, I think it's sweet. I mean, you didn't know this was going to happen, right?"

Joe met her eyes, grateful for the understanding he found there. "Not at all. I thought I was just playing a dumb game for laughs. I didn't think you'd actually be here."

"Well, surprise," she said, smiling, a genuine warmth in her expression that made his chest tighten strangely. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Joe shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. "It could be worse. You could've said I was weird or something."

Riley tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes studying his face in a way that made him feel simultaneously exposed and seen. "Weird? No. Nervous? Definitely. But it's kind of endearing."

The compliment caught him off guard, and Joe chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, probably ruining the makeup team's hard work. "Yeah, well, it's not every day you get ambushed by your celebrity crush on national TV."

The words escaped before he could filter them, his usual carefully maintained guard momentarily lowered by the surreal situation and Riley's disarming presence. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back, stuff the admission back into the private corner of his mind where it belonged.

Riley blinked, caught off guard by his honesty, before her lips curled into a slow smile that transformed her entire face. Something playful and pleased sparked in her blue eyes. "Celebrity crush, huh?"

Joe's face turned bright red, the heat spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked away, focusing on a random spot on the stage floor. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Just a little," she teased, her voice laced with amusement but no judgment. "But don't worry—I'm flattered."

Before Joe could respond, Jimmy returned, clapping his hands together with renewed energy. "Alright, we're back, folks! Let's jump right back into it!"

The red light on the camera blinked on, and just like that, they were live again. Joe straightened slightly, trying to regain his composure as the interview continued.

The rest of the segment flowed more easily than Joe could have anticipated. The initial shock had worn off, and there was something about Riley's presence—the way she effortlessly filled silences, laughed at the right moments, and occasionally glanced at him with what seemed like genuine interest—that made the experience almost... enjoyable?

Riley talked about her new album and upcoming tour with her band, her passion evident in the way she leaned forward, hands animated as she described the creative process. Joe found himself watching her more than he should, captivated by the little details—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the slight crinkle around her eyes when she smiled genuinely.

When the conversation turned to him, Joe surprised himself by opening up about his plans for the offseason, including a long-overdue vacation in the Bahamas with his family. Normally, he kept such details vague, offering just enough to satisfy the question without revealing anything too personal. But something about the night—maybe the fact that his carefully constructed wall had already been breached—made it easier to share.

Despite his earlier nerves, Joe found himself relaxing more as the conversation went on. Riley laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones, and they shared a few lingering glances that left him wondering if she might actually be into him too—a possibility so far-fetched he could barely allow himself to consider it.

By the time the segment ended, Joe felt almost disappointed. He'd survived what he thought would be a nightmare, only to find it had transformed into something unexpectedly pleasant.

Jimmy stood to thank them both, his expression satisfied—he'd gotten exactly the kind of segment producers dream about. "Alright, let's give it up for Joe Burrow and Riley Carter, everyone! Thanks for being such good sports tonight!"

"Thanks for having us," Riley said with a bright smile, the picture of graciousness.

Joe, finding a bit of his usual humor despite the circumstances, added, "Yeah, this was... something. But I think I survived."

Jimmy laughed, already angling for a follow-up story. "You did great, Joe. Just make sure I get invited to the wedding someday."

The audience roared with approval, and Joe shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

As the cameras stopped rolling and the show moved to its next segment, Riley turned to him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Joe braced himself for the letdown, for the polite but distant thank you and goodbye that would signal the end of this strange interaction.

Instead, she surprised him. "See you backstage?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of hopefulness that sent a rush of something warm through his chest.

Joe nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah. Definitely."

As they both rose and made their way off the stage, Joe felt a strange mixture of emotions—lingering embarrassment from the ambush, adrenaline from the live performance, and something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

Joe was a private person; this was something he worked very hard to maintain. Despite his career, he tried to keep his life as normal as possible. He carefully separated Joe Burrow the quarterback from Joe Burrow the person. He limited his social media presence, declined most endorsement deals that would put him in the spotlight more than necessary, and cultivated a small, tight-knit circle of trusted friends.

So, as he left the stage after what was probably the most humiliating interview of his life, Joe was crossing his fingers that Riley wasn't just pretending not to be weirded out by the whole thing. If she was weirded out, he'd have to retire immediately, move to a remote island, and never show his face in public again.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but he was certain of one thing: he would never agree to another talk show again. No matter how much his agent insisted it was "good for his brand."

The backstage area was a maze of corridors, production equipment, and busy staff members. Joe nodded politely to various crew members as he made his way through the hallways, his signature navy varsity sweater with white collar and blue pants making him easily recognizable despite his attempts to slip by unnoticed. He grabbed his duffel bag from where his assistant had left it backstage, slung it over his shoulder, and considered his next move.

The logical thing would be to head straight back to his hotel, call his agent to complain about the ambush, and try to forget the whole embarrassing episode. But the thought of leaving without talking to Riley again felt wrong somehow.

As Joe rounded a corner, he spotted a sign with Riley's name on a dressing room door at the end of the hallway. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Inside, he was a mess of nerves and uncertainty, but outwardly, he maintained the same cool composure he carried onto the field before big games. It was a skill he'd perfected years ago - never let them see you sweat.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, Riley turned to Jimmy with a playful but pointed glare as soon as the cameras were off.

"Alright, Jimmy, what the hell was that?" she asked, crossing her arms with a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jimmy laughed, throwing up his hands in mock defense, his expression utterly unrepentant. "Hey, don't blame me! I wasn't planning for things to go that well. I just thought it would be a fun little game—Joe's the one who went all-in on picking you every single time."

Riley shook her head, clearly flustered but unable to maintain real anger at the host's matchmaking attempt. "I mean, yeah, but still. You didn't warn me this was going to turn into a matchmaking ambush on live television."

Jimmy leaned in with a knowing grin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Come on, admit it—you were into it. He was practically blushing the entire time! And don't think I didn't notice the way you kept sneaking glances at him."

The observation hit closer to home than Riley was comfortable acknowledging. She'd been genuinely charmed by Joe's obvious nervousness, by the unfiltered honesty that had slipped out when he admitted to his crush. It was refreshing—most men she met in the industry were all polished lines and practiced confidence. Joe's authenticity had caught her off guard in the best possible way.

"Jimmy," Riley groaned, wanting to end the conversation before the host could see too much in her reaction. "I am never coming on this show again."

"Oh, sure," he teased, clearly not believing her for a second. "Just make sure to thank me in your wedding toast."

Riley rolled her eyes, already heading for the door, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile that threatened to break through. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

"Goodbye, Riley! Love you!" Jimmy called after her with a laugh that followed her down the corridor.

As soon as Riley stepped into her dressing room, she was ambushed by her publicist, Jesse, who had been watching the segment on the monitor and was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Riley! Oh my God, that was amazing!" Jesse exclaimed, her dark curls bobbing as she gestured enthusiastically. "The way you two kept sneaking glances at each other? And the blushing? I mean, seriously, the entire audience was eating it up!"

Riley groaned, collapsing onto the plush couch as she covered her face with her hands, the cool metal of her rings pressing against her warm skin. "Please tell me it wasn't as bad as it felt."

"Bad? Are you kidding me? That was the stuff rom coms are made of," Jesse said, sitting on the armrest of the couch with a dramatic flourish, her tailored pantsuit crinkling slightly. "You were charming, he was adorable—it was perfect. Social media is already buzzing, by the way. 'Riley Carter and Joe Burrow' is trending."

Riley peeked out from behind her hands, narrowing her eyes at her publicist and longtime friend. "Seriously? That fast?"

"Uh, yeah." Jesse held up her phone, the screen illuminated with a flood of tweets and Instagram posts. "The second he turned bright red when you walked out, it was over for him. Everyone loves it. But forget Twitter for a second—did you see the way he looked at you? Riley, the man is smitten."

The thought sent a strange flutter through Riley's stomach, one she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd met plenty of attractive men over the years—fellow musicians, actors, models—but there was something about Joe Burrow's unassuming charm, the way he seemed almost reluctant to be in the spotlight despite his career, that intrigued her.

"Oh my God, Jesse, stop," Riley said, half-laughing, half-groaning as she pushed herself up from the couch.

Jesse smirked, smoothing her blazer as she stood. "Alright, fine. I'll stop. But only if you march down to his dressing room right now and give him your number."

Riley's eyes widened, a rush of unexpected nerves flooding her system. "What? No. That's not happening."

Despite her words, a part of her considered it. What was the harm? If nothing else, she'd have a funny story about the time she gave her number to Joe Burrow after Jimmy Fallon tried to set them up on national television.

"Okay, fine," Jesse said, crossing her arms with a determined expression that Riley recognized all too well. "Then he can come here. Either way, this is happening, because the energy between you two was insane, and if you don't do something about it, I will."

Riley opened her mouth to argue, to tell Jesse that she was being ridiculous, that whatever chemistry the audience thought they saw was just the product of an awkward situation handled with mutual grace. But before she could get the words out, there was a soft knock at the door.

The sound sliced through the room like a thunderclap despite its gentleness. Both women froze, staring at the door as if it might reveal its secrets without being opened.

Jesse's eyes lit up, and she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Holy shit. What if it's him?"

"Stop," Riley hissed, suddenly feeling very aware of how fast her heart was beating. She sat frozen for a moment, her stomach doing somersaults, caught between hoping it was Joe and hoping it was literally anyone else.

"What are you waiting for? Go open it!" Jesse urged, waving her toward the door with frantic gestures.aving her toward the door with frantic gestures.

Taking a deep breath to calm her inexplicably racing heart, Riley stood, smoothed her hands down her pants, and crossed to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the handle for just a second before she pulled it open.

Standing in the hallway was Joe Burrow, his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and white Converse sneakers making him look effortlessly cool. His stance exuded quiet confidence - one hand casually in his pocket, shoulders relaxed, posture perfect - the same easy self-assurance he displayed walking through stadium tunnels before games.

Inside, Joe's panic was at maximum level, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, thoughts racing through his mind at lightning speed. But none of this showed on his face. Outwardly, he maintained perfect composure, the same unflappable demeanor he'd perfected for high-pressure game situations. He leaned slightly against the doorframe with practiced nonchalance, his expression giving away nothing of the chaos inside.

"Hey," Joe said, his voice smooth and controlled, with just the right balance of confidence and warmth. "I, uh, just wanted to come by and say I'm really sorry about what happened out there. Jimmy kind of blindsided me."

Riley leaned against the doorframe, a small smile tugging at her lips. She was conscious of Jesse hovering just out of sight, no doubt drinking in every word of this interaction for future teasing material. "You don't have to apologize. Honestly, I thought it was kind of sweet."

Joe blinked, relief flickering across his face, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You did?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile widening. "I mean, it was awkward, sure, but in a cute way. You handled it way better than I would've."

Joe laughed softly, glancing down at his shoes—expensive-looking leather loafers that somehow didn't seem like his style. "Well, I seriously considered running for the exit at one point."

Riley laughed, the sound genuine and unrestrained. "I believe that."

The moment felt lighter now, the initial awkwardness dissolving into something more comfortable. Joe looked back at her, a playful glint in his eye that she hadn't noticed during the interview. "So... I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that Jimmy was basically narrating my humiliation out there, but you seemed to handle it like a pro."

"Are you kidding? I was dying," Riley said, grinning. "You're the one who stayed cool the whole time."

Joe tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in a way that transformed his face, adding a mischievous quality to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. "Pretty sure sweating through my shirt doesn't count as staying cool."

Riley laughed again, shaking her head, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Fair enough. But still—it was fun. In a totally ridiculous way."

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, his smile softening into something more genuine, less performative. "Yeah, ridiculous sounds about right."

There was a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, but charged in the best way. The kind of silence that felt like its own conversation. Finally, Joe broke it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, uh..." He hesitated, then let out a small laugh that betrayed his nervousness. "Man, I'm terrible at this."

"At what?" Riley asked, tilting her head, though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

Joe took a breath, his gaze meeting hers directly, a determined set to his jaw like he was facing down a defensive line rather than asking a simple question. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to grab dinner sometime. While you're in town, I mean."

Riley blinked, caught off guard but pleasantly surprised by his directness. She'd expected more hesitation, maybe even a non-committal suggestion to "keep in touch." "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Joe said quickly, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes searching her face for clues to her thoughts. "No pressure or anything. I just thought... if you're free, maybe we could—"

"I'd love that," Riley interrupted, her smile soft but genuine. The decision felt right, spontaneous in a way she'd been trying to embrace more lately.

Joe paused, clearly not expecting that answer, his eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

"Really," Riley said with a small laugh, amused by his surprise. Was it so hard to believe she'd want to have dinner with him?

Joe's face lit up, a smile spreading across his features that transformed him completely. Gone was the careful, controlled athlete from the interview; in his place was someone younger, more open, almost boyishly pleased. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to her. "Here, put your number in?"

Riley took the phone with a nod, quickly typing in her number before handing it back to him. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a brief moment of contact that shouldn't have registered but somehow did.

"There you go," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

Joe stared at the screen for a moment, her name now sitting there in his contacts, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "Thanks. I, uh... I'll text you soon. For real."

"I'll hold you to that," Riley said with a smile that felt more genuine than most she'd given that day.

Joe hesitated for a moment, a brief internal debate playing out in his eyes, before he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. The gesture was sweet, unexpected, and over almost as soon as it began. "Goodnight, Riley."

The brief contact left a warm spot on her skin, and Riley found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "Goodnight, Joe," she managed, her voice warm despite her surprise.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Riley leaned back against it with a soft sigh, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't fight if she tried. Behind her, Jesse let out a gleeful squeal that Riley chose to ignore, too caught up in replaying the last few minutes in her head.

A talk show ambush, a mutual admission of attraction, and a dinner date—all in one night. Not at all how she'd expected her evening to go when she'd agreed to appear on The Tonight Show.

But as she touched her fingers lightly to the spot where Joe's lips had brushed her cheek, Riley found herself looking forward to what might come next.

[joloml]

stray kids younger ninth member headcannons

pairing youngot9 x stray kids

warnings mentions of teasing, cursing

notes i lost the request for this i think i accidentally deleted it bruh. but it was like can you do headcannons for stray kids as the ninth member but they’re still in high school — since some of yall are young and cannot date them i suppose i will grant you with how they’d treat you in a non bf gf relationship way

mlist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

bangchan:

duo: father x daughter

- this man would literally treat you like his kid

- you genuinely see him as a father figure and rely on him probably too much

- always watches you to make sure that you’re still alive and breathing

- checks up on you so much to the point where you have to remind him that even though you’re young, you can take care of yourself

- if you do something stupid with a member, he definitely scolds you both if something goes wrong

- wakes you up for school and makes you lunches

- would get in the car to pick you up from school, but all the members would beg to come along so you would be picked up by a bunch of loud childish grown men

- cries every year on your birthday because you’re getting older LMAO

- “why can’t you stay young forever” “i quite literally cannot control that”

- you call him dude and bruh and he’s given up on correcting you

interviews/concerts:

- during interviews, if you’re not sitting next to him, he’ll always be glancing at you to make sure you’re okay

- also always makes sure you get the chance to talk if you’re more on the quiet side

- during games, if you’re competing against each other he always lets you win even though you just want him to play normally

- constantly checks up on you on stage especially during performances

- is always always always making sure that you’re eating good and taking care of yourself before and after performances (and just in general)

when you get mad/crash out (you’re a moody teenager it’s bound to happen):

- is lowkey scared of you

- you’re also lowkey scared of him in return so you’ve never snapped at him

- gets felix or i.n to talk to you

- if one of the members is the reason that you were mad, he gives them a talk and after that they never make you mad again

when you’re sad:

- once again gets felix or i.n to talk to you

- if you’re crying and he’s the one who finds you first, he just hugs you silently while you cry onto his shoulder

- i’m in tears i need to be comforted by him

- if you’re feeling really overwhelmed or stressed from work, he’s always willing to give you a day off

how he shows affection towards you:

- this man loves physical touch, so he would always be hugging you

- you always tell him to get off but he hugs you tighter just to be annoying

- thinks he’s sooo funny

- lets you sleep on him whenever you’re not near a bed

when he finds out you have a crush on an idol from a different group:

- let’s pretend it’s ni-ki from enhypen cause it’s more on the legal side

- thinks it’s so funny

- teases you whenever he’s brought up

- when you do collabs with other idols for tiktok and ni-ki is one of them, he makes you guys pair up (even though you both know it’s never gonna happen, he just thinks it’s cute)

when you do a scandalous tiktok dance:

- is SHOOK

- “absolutely not” “bruh”

- doesn’t let you post it or even show any of the other members

lee know:

duo: the bash siblings

- would probably try to be nicer to you when you first met

- but when he makes a snarky joke and you match his energy, he immediately deems you as his favorite person ever

- you both make rude/teasing remarks towards each other all the time to the point where the rest of the members think you’re actually arguing

- you also gang up on the other members to bully them

- however, if you’re more on the sensitive side, he tries to be nicer

- his members are lowkey scared whenever you both are together because they never know when they’re gonna get attacked

- definitely beefs with little kids on roblox with you

interviews/concerts:

- like chan, is always checking up on you

- if you have to compete against each other during interview games, you both are so competitive that it gets out of hand sometimes

- during concerts, you both are always throwing water at each other or having trip wars - you try to trip each other in different ways

- chan notices you doing it every time and tells you to stop before one of you actually gets hurt

- you’ve only tripped him once and you absolutely died laughing when you did, but he’s never successfully tripped you

when you get mad/crash out:

- lowkey finds it funny

- just stays out of your way if you’re genuinely mad

- but if you’re just annoyed, he’s probably the reason why

- continues to annoy you until chan tells him to stop

when you’re sad:

- isn’t really sure what to do but feels bad

- like chan, just lets you cry onto his shoulder silently

- every member is just gonna direct you to felix or i.n LMAO

how he shows affection towards you:

- he lowkey doesn’t

- his insults are out of love so i guess that counts

- deep down loves and cares for you a lot though

when he finds out you have a crush on an idol from a different group:

- let’s pretend it’s ni-ki again!

- laughs out loud when he finds out

- is always teasing you about it

- teases you when you’re in the presence of ni-ki and you get so mad

- is genuinely the funniest thing ever to him

when you do a scandalous tiktok dance:

- judges you

- “where did you even learn to do that?”

- also doesn’t let you post it

- “you’re like five years old, you can’t post that” “be so fr rn”

changbin:

duo: the favorite siblings

- you both are always making each other cackle with stupid jokes

- no one matches his energy better than you

- is definitely the type of person to smack you while laughing when you say something funny

- but you do it in return

- has so many inside jokes with you that the other members gave up on trying to keep up with you both

- when something exciting happens, he’s always excited to tell you because he loves how you match his energy

interviews/concerts:

- you’re always cackling in the back with him during concerts over the weirdest things

- same thing with interviews - you guys have to be told to stop screwing around

- you always somehow end up on his side during team games so you’re always supporting each other

- saw you trip lee know that one time and died laughing with you

when you get mad/crash out:

- like chan, lowkey scared

- you’ve never snapped at him either because you know you’d feel bad

- always knows how to cheer you up somehow

- most of the time it’s with stupid jokes

- or he does it accidentally by running into a wall or something

when you’re sad:

- feels so bad

- wants to cheer you up but doesn’t always know how to

- lets you rant to him

- also cheers you up by doing something stupid

how he shows affection towards you:

- always laughs at your jokes

- + inside jokessss

- hitting you when he laughs

when he finds out you have a crush on an idol from a different group:

- ni-ki once again

- thinks it’s super exciting

- when you see him in public, he nudges you with a smirk

- “look, it’s your boyfriend” “shut up!”

when you do a scandalous tiktok dance:

- is shocked at first but then -

- “can you teach me?” “i knew you’d ask”

- learns it also and you both eat it up

hyunjin:

duo: yapper x yapper

- you both are the biggest yappers

- put you both on live and there will be no silent moments. just constant yapping

- if you can draw, you definitely bond by drawing together

- if you can’t, that sucks idk what to tell you

- maybe he teaches you if you’re up for it

- you can’t help but think he’s the cutest ever because let’s be serious he literally is

- like all the other members, just has the urge to watch over you to make sure you’re always okay

interviews/concerts:

- if you’re struggling to learn a certain choreography, he always helps you

- members sometimes have to separate you guys when you tell a story because you just don’t shut up

- the most unserious duo during games- neither of you gaf

- dumped water on you once during a concert and let’s just say you got your revenge and he has not done it since

when you get mad/crash out:

- tells chan

- then just leaves you alone

- not tryna get yelled at by chan or you LMAO

when you’re sad:

- hugs

- lots more yapping from you ranting to him

- if someone was being rude to you, he’s definitely the type of person to be like “she’s such a bitch, why would she say that?” “right??”

how he shows affection towards you:

- always keeps the conversation going (i be hating it when people don’t listen when i speak so personally i find this to be affectionate)

- is always just there whenever you need him

when he finds out you have a crush on an idol from a different group:

- yall know the drill- ni-ki;)

- thinks it’s funny

- teases you but is the most delusional supporter

- “we made eye contact the other day” “oh he wants you fr”

when you do a scandalous tiktok dance:

- is honestly probably the one who showed you the dance in the first place

- does it with you

- you guys would definitely do the money pull up dance just for funsies

- you post it and everyone in the comments hypes you up

han:

duo: best friends

- loves doing stupid things with you

- you both will go live and just eat

- and i mean complete silence except for the sound of you both chomping down

- until you make eye contact and absolutely lose it

- being weird together is your guys’ thing

- there is never a dull moment between you two

- views you as his little sister and absolutely adores you

- when you get scolded by chan, it’s most likely because you did something stupid specifically with han

- loud duo

- the other members have to tell you guys to shut up sometimes

interviews/concerts:

- always helps to calm you down if you’re feeling anxious since he understands:(

- if you’re not sitting next to chan during an interview, you’re next to han

- during games, you guys are always yelling and that’s when you’re told to shut up

- also saw you trip lee know and had to walk away before he lost it

when you get mad/crash out:

- is probably crashing out with you

- listens to your ranting no matter how long you go on for

- is like hyunjin: “no because that’s such a bitchy thing to do” “that’s what i’m saying”

when you’re sad:

- is sad for you

- hates to see you cry

- wipes your tears for you

- once you were crying so hard that he started crying with you

- you felt horrible for making him cry so you cried even harder

- it was a whole mess

how he shows affection towards you:

- annoys you sometimes

- lots of hugs, like chan

- you always fall asleep with your head on his shoulder, and he eventually falls asleep too by resting his head on yours

- never makes you doubt if he literally hates you or not

when he finds out you have a crush on an idol from a different group:

- “OOOOUUUUU, EVERYONE Y/N LIKES-” “shut your mouth right now before i shut it for you”

- big time teasing

- teases you even harder after you have a conversation with your crush and come back all red faced

- “im telling channie hyung” “you better fucking not”

when you do a scandalous tiktok dance:

- screams

- “why can’t you do the renegade or something?” “r u fr”

- doesn’t want you to post it because he feels protective but honestly doesn’t really care what you do

felix:

duo: therapist x client

- your #1 comfort person

- personal therapist

- is so so caring towards you

- his presence is just comforting

- you both can sit in complete silence and you’ll just feel calm knowing that he’s there

- since he’s on tiktok a lot and knows a lot of trends, you guys have the same humor

- teaches you how to play his video games

- you end up becoming better than him at them and he’s js like😦

interviews/concerts:

- you force him to be by you during interviews

- you’re always either next to chan or han, but felix is always on the other side of you, no questions asked

- always checks up on you

- dumps water on you but you can never get mad at him for it

when you get mad/crash out:

- as i just said, you can never get mad at him

- one time you did snap at him and you cried after because you felt bad

- he told you that it was literally fine but you’re still upset about it to this day

- “y/n i swear it’s not a big deal” “i literally yelled at you, it is a big deal”

when you’re sad:

- the first person you go to

- is such an understanding person you lowkey wanna cry even harder just because he’s so nice

- he always cheers you up just by being there

how he shows affection towards you:

- is just always there for you

- understands you completely

- is always on you side during an argument

- i feel like he’s the type of person to have his hand on your back when leading you through busy crowds idk

when he finds out you have a crush on an idol from a different group:

- thinks it’s so cute

- doesn’t tease you but still finds it kinda funny

- he’ll see you talking to your crush and just smile

- doesn’t even need to say anything when you walk back, the look on his face says it all

when you do a scandalous tiktok dance:

- hypes you up

- probably ends up joining in

seungmin:

duo: tom and jerry

- he may not show it but deep down he cares for you a lot

- you’re lowkey the human version of puppym and that describes your guys’ relationship well enough

- you love annoying him

- secretly he loves it too

- he doesn’t realize it but he’s lowkey one of your top comfort people

- like lee know, you guys are mean to each other in a loving way of course

- you guys spend quality time together by watching movies in silence while chomping down on snacks

- after the movie ends, you share your thoughts with each other

interviews/concerts:

- your skzoos + you both = absolute chaos

- i feel like your skzoo would be like a deer or something to resemble you being the youngest idk but it would be a menace

- tried to trip you after you tripped lee know but failed

- unfortunately chan saw too and he got a scolding!

- “she started it” “yeah blame it all on me”

when you get mad/crash out:

- just keeps his distance

- not tryna catch these hands👊

- warns the other members

when you’re sad:

- is always there to listen

- he may not know what to tell you or give the best advice, but he’s always willing to let you rant to him

- awkwardly rubs your back and hugs you

how he shows affection towards you:

- like lee know, he honestly doesn’t

- you know that all of his bullying is done out of love

when he finds out you have a crush on an idol from a different group:

- just laughs

- “good luck with that”

- can’t help but be excited for you when he sees you talking to your crush

when you do a scandalous tiktok dance:

- judges you

- bombastic side eye

- “why are you showing me this?” “nvm get out you’re such a negative nancy”

i.n

duo: snoopy and woodstock

- everyone’s favorite duo

- you have the most heartwarming relationship

- like felix, i.n brings a sense of comfort to you - just being around him calms you down

- adores you

- sees you as his little sister and feels the need to protect you

- if the whole group is ever hanging out and they can’t find you and i.n, you’re most likely hiding out in yours or his room, messing around

- as the maknae duo, everyone is always getting cuteness aggression from you both

- when you guys are left alone, chan doesn’t even worry about you guys getting into trouble because he trusts you both will just end up watching tv or doing smth chill

interviews/concerts:

- you both check up on each other

- you make eye contact and give each other a thumbs up

- just silent symbols of showing that you’re fine

- you hate competing against each other

- you both are always full of energy on stage

when you get mad/crash out:

- knows that you probably just wanna be left alone so he tells the other members to leave you be for a bit

- after awhile he’ll come and check on you

- cheers you up with his cuteness

when you’re sad:

- one of the chosen members to check up on you

- if felix isn’t around, he takes over as the therapist

- an amazing listener

- “queen never cry” “where on earth did you learn that”

how he shows affection towards you:

- is always super nice to you no matter what mood he’s in

- ruffles your hair whenever he walks past you with a small smile on his face as you glare at him

when he finds out you have a crush on an idol from a different group:

- promises to not tell anyone

- you probably just told him instead of keeping it a secret because you trust him

- teases you quietly after he sees you interact with your crush

- “so when’s the wedding??” “oh shut it”

when you do a scandalous tiktok dance:

- doesn’t know wether to laugh or cry

- “…that’s nice” “thanks?”

- awkwardly leaves

[cixerr]

DAISUKE X READER HEADCANONS PT2 🌺

SFW/NSFW - MINORS SHOO 🔞

Back with more dating headcanons for our favourite boy :3 this time including SFW ones!!!

Part one can be found here!

No gender specified for reader

(tiddies are mentioned like once)

Enjoy <3

SFW

🌺 -he's EXTREMELY clingy once the relationship has been established. Where you go HE GOES.

🌺 - physical touch!!! He can NOT keep his hands off you weather that's having a hold on your hand all the time or trapping you in a cuddle. He's definitely a "5 more minutes" typa guy hehe

🌺 - speaking of cuddles... I'd say he's the big spoon. he holds you tightly like you'd disappear the moment he lets go of you. He loves burying his face in the crook of your neck.

🌺 - please give him head pats!! Play with his hair and scratch behind his ear. He's your human sized puppy! (He's also a sucker for you playing with his hair...)

🌺 - you're the only other person who has the privilege of playing on his gameboy. He likes to rest his head on your shoulder while he watches you. Probably complaining about all the wrong things you're doing but it's still fun. You think his little complaints are cute anyways. it also makes him proud to know he's better at it than you.

ALRIGHTTT he also helps you out by placing his hands over yours as he controls the game with your hands.....

🌺 - nobody talks about how he's a party freak much but he's DEFINITELY buying you the drinks. Knowing full well how hectic parties can be he's always by your side and clinging on to you to keep you safe

🌺 - if you're upset about something, he's gonna try to fix things no matter what. He'd be searching the Internet for HOURS just to find the best solution. he is not giving up.

Mostly likes to cuddle you and keep you close to make you feel even slightly better :)

🌺 - loves receiving words of affirmation. It makes him feel happy and worthy when you tell him how good of a boyfriend he is. How proud you are of him. Ohh he doesn't deserve a partner like you... he definitely does!

🌺 - LOVES SHARING!! Food, drinks, clothes... you name it he loves sharing absolutely everything ever with you

🌺 - if he sees something that even slightly reminds him of you, you bet he's getting it and randomly surprising you with it

NSFW

🌺 - he definitely had more one night stands than actual relationships in the past. (Not too many, but you were most likely his first serious relationship) So he's more experienced with what goes on in the bedroom more than anything else...

You're not quite sure on what you're supposed to do? Don't worry he gotchu

🌺 - smear your cum all over his face...he'd like that. and let him suck his own cum off your fingers while you're at it... ALL WHILE REMAINING EYE CONTACT ARRGHHHH

🌺 - not sure if this is much of a headcanon cause I still don't know if he'd actually do this but.....he likes to wear thongs 😔 (he first started wearing them because he thought it'd get more people drooling over him LMAO) He knows how hot you find it so he makes sure they're always on show (just for you 😉) oh and he likes matching thongs with you too ❤️

🌺 - LOVES WHEN YOU WEAR LINGERIE. He thinks it's so incredibly hot and sexy and yeah he's a drooling mess over you

🌺 - risk it for a biscuit! He loves having sex in the most risky places. Just something about the thought of getting caught makes him feel all excited

🌺 - he's obsessed with giving you hickeys, especially on your neck where everyone can see. He's always proud of the millions of bruises he leaves on you, and it's showing that you belong to him (uωu*)

When your bruises start to heal, he's right back on your neck again ♥︎

Other places he likes to leave them are your breasts and shoulders ❤️

🌺 - if you can't be with him for whatever reason, he has a collection of dirty photos of you he likes to jerk off too. He keeps them in a very special/fancy box because they're incredibly important to him :3

I'm running out of nsfw ideas I'm afraid I spilled my most freaky stuff in my first post ☹️

[alynnia]

Sylus x Rafayel (x MC) ramblings

The fujo came out of me with this one. After my little karaoke blurb I had an epiphany and had to get it out of my system. I'm no writer but I like to write. The below is litterally brain vomit of ideas and situations spilling out as they come and they're free to the public to play with. These two have quite a bit in common and potentially have chemistry? I dunno, could be my fujo goggles.

MDNI because the last section is lewd. Nothing explicit just options of how I think the sexual part of their relationship might be.

Both bonded to MC

•Sylus, through a shared soul and Raf through an eternal bond. Both of these continue through lifetimes. So imagine Rafayel's shock when courting MC he gets two instead of one. Does he just love half of her soul or all of it? Now we don't know the exact timelines of the myths if they all share the same universe and same Philos, but let's say they did. Sylus' soul sharing with MC came first so when Rafayel bonded with MC, he was unknowingly bonding with Sylus as well. He would be reluctant in this set up, believing that MC was the one he is tied to and only her (this is true of course but we are playing pretend here) but why does he feel a similar pull from Sylus? The fiend is nonchalant about it outwardly but I can see him teasing the fuck out of fish boy. " I guess that makes me your 'beloved' as well but...I don't bow to gods, puppy. I end them. " and then gives him a few smug paps on the cheek. This likely results in a fight MC has to break up and it happens often.

•They would both try and show each other up with showing affection to MC, but Sylus would always include Rafayel in his gifting. If he buys a dress for her, he's buying a suit for him. If she gets a ruby necklace, he gets ruby cufflinks. While MC can have any color jewels she wants, he defaults to red gems. After a while, Rafayel takes notice that the crow boy likes to "mark" them with rubies as a subtle way of telling the world the two of them are both his. It's hard to say if he's doing this as a show of dominance or something more but the way Sylus gives him a satisfied smirk/smile when he sees them both wearing matching onyx and ruby brooches makes his eye twitch and his heart skip. Sensing danger between them, MC would excitedly suggest that Sylus wear one too so all three could match, a subtle way on her part to say they are all equal here.

•When talking to MC about Rafayel, he uses "our".

"I think our husband is throwing a tantrum again~"

" I am NOT your husband. "

" Tch, aaw. Tough luck, you're stuck with us both. "

" Then I want a divorce. There's got to be some way to break out of this, a loophole or a spell to break this curse... "

" You hear that sweetie? Our husband wants to break up with us. Maybe he's not as devoted as he says. "

" N-not her! JUST YOU! You are the curse that defiles our sacred bond and I will not stand for it! "

" And how do you plan to do that? Hm? Rip our very soul asunder? That can't be good for either of us, puppy~ " And he's just smirking the entire time with an arm around MC. " But if you insist, I may know someone who can help you. Very experimental, has not had one survivor yet. But! You seem to be very set on tearing her apart...are you willing to take the risk~? " He just loves challenging gods and seeing Rafayel seething is just too precious.

Both rich as fuck

•As someone else here on tumblr mentioned, Rafayel is spoiled prince rich and Sylus is mafia rich. Raf seeing Sy spend money like it was nothing takes these acts as a challenge on his own wealth. He'll offer to pay for things with a smug smile and Sylus lets him do it without a fuss, merely raising an eyebrow then smirking. Neither let MC pay for anything. This ends up frustrating Rafayel after a while. Why doesn't he say anything? Is he just going to let him pay for it all? Greedy crow. ):< Finally fed up, he confronts Sylus saying that he should pay him back with interest. Raf doesn't need the money but it's the principle of the matter! Sylus is just…

"Alright, if it will shut you up." and points him to a page of restraunts on a tablet he was looking over. Rafayel figures he's being asked where he wants to eat on Sy's tab so he chooses the most expensive establishment. The kind you need to make a reservation for a year in advance. He's already planning to order top shelf, the highest priced items on the menu and exclusive private seating for all of them. Sylus looks over the selected place and scoffs, " Pompous. " A little later when Rafayel is expecting to go out, Sylus just slaps down paperwork in front of him and tells him to sign it. What is it? Essentially the transfer of ownership of that place he chose. Apparently it had already belonged to Sylus and now it's Raf's. " This should cover it, yes? "

Both are mythical creatures

• Raf being a mermaid (God of tides) and Sylus being a dragon (Bringer of Ruin) Gods create, fiends destroy. Sy is for the skies and Raf for the seas. They're both beings of power and forces of nature.

• Being the dragon he is, Sylus would likely keep all of the art he doesn't put away or keep track of. It comes from the need to hoard treasures and because the fish is terrible with leaving his work all over the place. Don't get him started on the paintbrushes he keeps stepping on. Thomas would think him a life saver for keeping things organized and available but Sylus would charge him every time he wanted to retrieve work from him. So Thomas is left with the choice of dealing with Rafayel or paying a stupid amount of money to Sylus to bypass the anguish.

•On the flip side, After Raf has seen Sylus' treasure trove of gemstones, he would also just so happen to pick up jewels from museums to add to his own collection. Ones Sylus possibly have never seen or heard of due to their connections with Lemuria. Sylus would make a comment about Lemurians crying pearls he heard once, baiting Rafayel and of course the mermaid can't help but confirm he's able to do this. (They both know what they are by this point) But isn't that a dangerous thing to admit to a greedy dragon? Perhaps Sylus should lock him up and force him to cry to obtain such beauties. But he figures he doesn't need to. Rafayel himself is enough of a rare treasure to keep after all. He would say this right to his face without flinching, as if it was just common sense. He pins another ruby trinket to his lapel to which Raf would find himself blushing then storming off somewhere. He would like to see those scales though. They sure are shiny and our Sylus likes shiny things.

• Sylus walks in on Rafayel in the bath and sees his mermaid tail for the first time. He's enamored but doesn't show it on his face. The mermaid is squawking, telling him he shouldn't enter when someone is in here without knocking but Sylus just ignores him, grabbing what he needs and is about to head out. The mermaid did catch those eyes looking at him in a particular way, wondering why he doesn't ask about the tail.

" So...you're not going to say anything about this? "

" Should I? "

" You've just bore witness to a rare sight, the scales of real Lemurian in his full glory. You would be a fool not to admire. "

" Oh, in that case do forgive me~ " turning around casually he takes wide steps and looms over the tub, his shadow cast over the Lemurian's form, " Then allow me take a closer look... " That's when Sylus runs his hands over the glistening tail, face unchanging as he studies it's quality. This envokes the wrath of Raf smacking his hand away, " No one said you could touch! " Sylus removes his hand but smirks in response. His gaze lingers on the glittering on the mermaid's face before rising up and heading back to the door, " I've seen better. "

" ......WHAT? Where?! No you haven't! Who else has-! " the door is already shut and he's gone.

• What if Sylus took MC's place in Rafayel's myth? A fiend finally captured, tied up and thrown into the ocean. We have hints that Sylus may not know how to swim so perhaps this is his weakness. Rafayel comes across this strange drowning creature who isn't quite human but curious to know more. He cuts him free and planned to just let whatever happens to him, happen but Sylus is quick, desperate to live and be out of this water. Having heard of the Lemurian tales he grabs hold of his savior and tries to steal his breath with a kiss, biting his lip in the process just like MC did. And you know the rest after that. Would make an interesting AU I think but would divert from the myth a looot from there. Still could be a fun ride. Raf can show him the ocean and Sy could show him the skies.

A weakness and a fear

•I don't think Sylus can swim. There's an Abyssal Chaos situation that hints at this and it's living rent free in my head but he does have a pool so who knows. I'm going with the idea that he can't swim for this. So...Sylus would almost always get the one-up on Rafayel, teasing and bullying him but when it comes to water, the fish finally has the upper hand here. Sylus would never admit this weakness out loud to anyone but MC. If they went to the beach he would just stay out of deep areas and Rafayel would take notice. Being a cheeky one and in his element, he'd somehow get the drop on him and pull Sylus over into the deep side to see what happens. Also for revenge. But Sylus isn't reacting the way he thought? This big tough guy is actually going to drown if he doesn't do something. He could be rid of him finally, let the man drown and have MC all to himself. He watches him sink, feeling a twinge of satisfaction but just as he's about to take off, the mark on his chest lights up. It can't be helped, can it?

After "saving" him, Rafayel tells him it's about time he learned how to swim. It's an essential skill and it's a crime to not beable to appreciate the beauty of the ocean. Sylus, surprisingly to Raf, agrees. " Then you should teach me. It's the least you can do after trying to kill me. " Not that it would work I think. How far does his immortality go anyway? Que montage of the two of them in the water together.

• Rafayel has a fear of cats. Sylus likes cats. After all, their beloved MC is their kitten and he's raised a lion cub before. The Lemurian god is offended that he would call MC such a horrid nickname as it's essentially calling her a demon. Sy quickly picks up on the fear and like the earlier scenario, tries to tease him with it. Though it's to a lesser degree in the form of just bringing strays for MC to take care of in front of him. If she's loving the cats, there's no way Rafayel can say no to her. Sylus knows this and pushes it further holding a kitten to his face, " To think a mighty god could be felled by such a small creature. " This prompts Raf to suck it up and slowly but surely start to confront his fear of cats, Sylus happily "helping". Que montage of the two interacting with cats from kittens to tigers.

Break out?

• Sylus doesn't believe beasts should be in cages and Rafayel hates the way humans treat animals. One night, after getting drunk and arguing which leads to a bet, they set local zoo animals free or something. They will never be caught.

Music

•They would share playlists and talk shit about each other's taste but still give genuine listens. Sylus prefers records and buys one for him just to prove how much better it sounds in this format instead of digital.

•They go to the opera together. Sylus is enjoying himself but Rafayel has some harsh critisms. He can do better. Sylus would ask for a demonstration and he says it would kill him. Crow boy sees that as a challenge because well, he can't die. So perhaps he could be one of the few who could listen to his death song without dying and appreciate it. It'd still probably hurt, but maybe it's worth it? Would be funny to see Sylus wheezing in Rafayel's arms, bleeding from his ears and still tell him his singing was shit just to rile him up. It's a lie, but picking on him is too much fun.

•Singing together. See the Karaoke blurb.

If they were in a relationship (Lewd bits)

•OT3. MC is far too important to them and their own connections would be their shared loved for her. They'd prefer to be seperate with her at first but over time Sylus would be the first to invite him together with MC. Rafayel is going to say no the first couple of times (it's not offered often) but eventually warms up to the idea if only to prove to the other that he can perform better than him. Then it becomes another game of chicken when Sy leans in closer to Raf with MC in the middle. Sylus will give looks, light touches in passing but won't be the one to give in. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he wants Rafayel to be absolutely sure he's into it and he gets a kick at making him buckle. Which he will and of course, Sylus obliges letting Rafayel think he's the one that "won" in this. MC is happy to see them get along.

•The longer this OT3 relationship goes on, the more likely sometimes it would be just the two of them while MC is off on a mission somewhere in the world that takes days to complete. At this point they're used to it and the roughness becomes more gentle and tender. Well, Sylus almost always had been the more gentle one and Rafayel the more agressive and it only took them being alone for Rafayel realize it.

• They would be competative in bed but even when bottoming, Sylus more often than not has control and directing Rafayel. Telling him there's no need to go easy on him. Raf will always fight for control and sometimes "win" but he melts too easily and loses himself in the moment. His most dominant side comes out during a certain season which is a pleasant surprise for Sy. They're both waking up with scars but Sylus more so. He doesn't let them heal quickly just to show off the result to Rafayel when he wakes up.

" Are you not proud of your work? " Oh he is proud. Embarrassed seeing what he's done to him and the memories of the night flashing in the back of his mind, but proud. Another win for the fish, "conquering" such a large man. Snatching Sylus by the chin, he'd give a warning with a hint of slight concern for his bird boy, " It would be wise not to forget what I can do to you. "

" Do what? These little marks? " He brushes them away with his evol, " Oh no. Look, they're all gone. I guess you'll have to try harder. "

And now I wonder if Rafayel could end up leaving a mark on him that not even Sylus can heal through his god mode. 🤔

•Playing with the headcanon of Sylus' draconic habits and urges being active in his current life, I wonder if they would "sync" up. Honestly it sounds dangerous, Sylus may very well eat the guy. Literally. That's for the tragedy enjoyers. For the degenerates…4 swords, eh? Okay on the tamer side of things, I can see them taking it out on each other to spare the worst of it from MC. Locking themselves away just to go all out. But back to degeneracy, she'd probably end up peeking out of curiosity and end up dragged into it. Rest in Peace girlie. 🙏

•So what would a dragon/mermaid kid look lik-

OKAY OKAY I'M DONE. IT'S OUT OF MY SYSTEM. DO NOT PERCEIVE MEEEE!! But really though, this was fun. Is this 1k words? I have no idea.

I think this is how you tag people? @crutoyu @turkeysamwichh

[cosmowgyral]

"Lover's Contract: A night of immoral deeds"

▪︎ Nica Schwartz

This is a fan translation, not 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. Expect grammatical inconsistencies.

Since Nica is not yet out in the EN server, there might be terms that will turn out different than what I have used here when he is finally released. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

A big thank you to Ciele (@.judesmoonbeauty) for providing me with the video of the epilogue. ♡

Epilogue

Kate: Ni-Nica, stop.

He licks the red bite marks repeatedly, proving I’m his.

He leaves peckish kisses down my neck again and again.

Even though it was just a little stimulation, after it was repeated multiple times, I started to feel hot and my entire body began to shake.

He gave me an exaggerated blow, and laughed a little as he saw me writhe.

Nica: What? Are you feeling it?

Kate: That’s not it.

Nica: Then why are you staring at me with such a flushed face?

He strokes my cheeks with the back of his fingers, twirling the ends of my hair and playing with them.

Nica: If it feels that good, I want you to do it too.

Kate: Huh, ah!

A hand reaches under my armpit and I am lowered from the railing. Nica then switches our positions.

Nica: Come now, put it on me too.

I hesitated when Nica pointed to his neck——

Nica: The Crown—

Kate: I-I’ll do it! It’s okay to do it, right?

Feeling threatened, I hastily placed my lips on his neck.

Despite its slender appearance, his neck is well-defined, with muscles that are normally invisible, now appearing and disappearing.

The aroma of ylang-ylang wafts from his Adam’s apple, which rises and falls with each breath, almost mesmerising me, but—.

Kate: Mmph, uh

Pursing my lips, I sucked again and again changing my angle, but the red mark never appeared.

Kate: Mm?

(I’m not good at it at all.)

As I struggled, I heard a voice coming from above my head and looked up.

Then I saw him with his eyebrows lowered and a happy smile on his face.

Nica: You’re no good at all, Robin.

He said the words while wiping away tears from too much laughter.

I couldn’t respond as my eyes were drawn to him.

Nica: Giving up?

Kate: Huh, oh, I’m still going.

I hurriedly tried to make a mark, but the colour was faint and it didn’t turn out as I had expected.

He then touched the side of my neck that didn’t have love bites.

Nica: Let me show you how it works.

Kate: Mmm

Red marks form on my neck once more.

Neck, collarbone, nape..

The slight pain that accompanies the sound of lips causes the red marks to become more noticeable.

Kate: Ni-ca

(What should I do? I know I’m not supposed to like it.)

As the number of bites increases, I can feel my excitement rising.

He finally parted his lips and licked them with his tongue.

Nica: See, now do it like this.

He puts his hand around the back of my head and presses my face into the crook of his neck.

I tried to imitate him but failed again.

(If this goes on….)

I bared my teeth and bit into his beautiful neck.

However, it seems that I bit harder than I intended.

Nica: Nngh!

Kate: I’m so sorry! Did that hurt?

Startled by the bite, Nica put his hand on the bitten spot with a shocked look on his face.

He touched the area where the bumps are clearly visible with his fingertips.

He then grinned and stroked the love bites on my neck—.

Nica: Mm, matching.

My heart was pounding loudly.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Kate: Excuse me.

A few days later, Nica called me to the reception room.

Nica: Here you are. I’ve been waiting for you, Robin.

Kate: You needed me for something...w-whoaa!

I couldn't contain my amazement when I saw the vibrant boxes of sweets on the table.

Kate: What is all this?

Nica: Do you remember the husband from when we infiltrated the lover’s club?

Kate: Yes.

Nica: The man actually owns a sweet manufacturing company. So I received a lot of sweets as a thank you.

Nica: I couldn’t have these all by myself, so I want you to take some too.

Kate: Is that okay?

Nica: Consider it a reward for going on the mission with me.

Stacks of biscuit tins and glittery chocolates.

Cute looking candies and sweet-smelling caramel.

(Which one should I choose…?!)

Choosing one is fun, so I started selecting and analysing each one.

Nica: If you’re that interested, you can have them all.

After hearing Nica, I shook my head sternly.

Kate: No, I can’t. If I eat them all, I’ll get fat.

Nica: You’re slim enough for me to lift you up easily.

Kate: That’s….

Suddenly remembering what happened a few days back, I stopped examining the sweets and looked at him.

Kate: Oh…

As he was sitting on the sofa and resting his head on the backrest, I could see the teeth mark on his neck and I couldn’t help but let out a cry.

Then, noticing my gaze, Nica opened the collar of his shirt to show it off.

Nica: This has hardly faded.

Nica: That goes for you too, right, Robin?

I had unconsciously placed my hand on the spot where the love bites were on my neck, but I quickly removed it.

Nica: There’s no point in doing that. They’re clearly visible once you look up.

Feeling embarrassed, I tried to look away, but he pulled me by the arm and brought his lips close to my neck.

Nica: Hey, Kate.

Nica: Should I renew our contract?

It seems I still can’t escape from him.

[Premium End] [Masterlist]

➽──────────────❥

Note: The hickeys were referred to as "red flowers blooming" here, but it sounded plain weird, so I changed them all to red marks.

[hellvst]

OFFSEASON – quinn hughes

featuring ; quinn hughes x fmc (sydney gray)

✮⋆˙ warning & content ; swearing

✮⋆˙ word count ; 4.7k

✮⋆˙ previous chapter – series masterlist – next chapter

a/n ; quinn is playing + canucks won yesterday against la? we are soo back! i kinda forgot to give simon a face claim...oops! but, i did have an idea or picture him to look similar to kevin fiala or roman josi, i just can't find a face claim for him. it's up to your imagination as well! happy reading <3

CHAPTER TWO

SYDNEY

My alarm went off multiple times within the past fifteen minutes, and kept hitting the snooze button each time it did. So much for wanting to wake up early this morning.

I fluttered my eyes open, adjusting to the natural light through the window.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the dull ache in my right leg. It wasn’t a sharp pain–more like a persistent stiffness, reminding me that no matter how much progress I made, and lots of physiotherapy sessions, I wouldn’t always feel one hundred percent.

There was no point in dwelling on it. I had a busy day ahead, and self-pity wasn’t on the agenda. Not today.

I ungracefully got out of bed–did some stretches, single-leg squats, and hopped on one foot.

Nothing some movement wouldn’t fix.

The discomfort usually disappeared once I got my body moving. Truly odd, but if it got me through the day, I was not going to complain.

I moved through my morning routine with muscle memory. A quick shower, skin care, matching black compression set, an oversized hoodie thrown on without much thought, and tied my hair into a ponytail.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, the coffee machine was already doing its magic. As I waited, I flipped the TV on in the living room out of habit as I did every morning. 

The post-game analysis was still running from last night’s Canucks-Oilers’ game. I wasn’t surprised that this was the first thing that popped up on the screen, considering it’s been a while since my hometown, Vancouver, had made a playoff appearance. It was a huge deal for the city.

I caught a whiff of the last few minutes after getting home late from the studio–just in time to witness the whole debacle unfold. 

My brother, Simon, and his teammate.

The miscommunication. The puck hitting the post. The loss.

A blown play that cost them a ticket to conference finals. 

Now, every analyst, reporter, or fan was commenting and dissecting it.

“This was a complete breakdown,” one of the reporters began. “Simon Gray and Quinn Hughes were on totally different pages the entire game. You can’t have your best forward and your top defensemen out of sync in the most important moments–”

I turned the TV off and took a sip of my coffee, already knowing how that played out. My stomach was tightening at the sight of Simon after the buzzer went off.

Before the game, I sent him a short and simple ‘good luck!’, and haven’t heard from him since. Fair enough, given the outcome of the game.

Simon was going to be miserable for days, maybe weeks, more likely the entire summer. My brother was going to be impossible to deal with after that. And if history has taught itself, he was going to blame others for his mistakes. He always did.

I looked at the time, almost choking on my coffee, “Shit.”

I was running late for my first private session of the day, and Phoebe–one of my regular clients–was going to get there before me. Again.

If someone had asked me years ago what I saw myself doing, being a Pilates instructor wouldn’t even make the list. But life has a way of throwing you in places you’d never expect.

It started after the incident, I don’t talk about it much–there was nothing left to say. It happened. It definitely changed things. And for a very long time, I felt lost in my own body, like going through motions without purpose.

Doctors and my physiotherapist gave me exercises, stretches, and a never-ending list of things to “try”. Nothing clicked. Nothing felt right.

Until, I stepped into my first Pilates class. I remembered feeling a bit skeptical at first, convinced it was another trendy workout–the one all the girls tried out. It was the first time in a long time I felt connected to myself again. 

I kept going. I got better. And then I got really good. Good enough that one day, the owner of the studio I’d been training at, pulled me aside and asked if I ever thought about teaching. 

I laughed at the time, but the idea lingered that it stuck. And here I was: an instructor at Lumé Wellness–the top studio branch in Vancouver–fully booked for the summer, doing what I love.

The studio wasn’t that far from my apartment, twenty minutes tops without traffic which most days I was thankful for.

By the time I made it to the studio, sure enough, Phoebe was already inside one of the private rooms, stretching on the mat.

She raised an eyebrow at me as I put my bag down. “Would it kill you to be on time for once?” Phoebe teased, pulling her dark curls into a bun.

I rolled my eyes and started stretching beside her. “It’s five minutes.”

She shrugged and wiggled her brows, “Five minutes that I spent wondering if you were late because a guy kept you up last night.”

“Oh my God,” I groaned with a smile. “Don’t start this again, Phoebe.”

All she did was grin, absolutely delighted at the sight of my suffering. Phoebe was in her late forties, a social butterfly with too much energy for the morning slot, and too much curiosity for her own good. 

Plus the fact she was newly single and thriving in the chaos of her impending divorce, loved to poke at my non-existing dating life. She was a sucker for drama, and if my love life–or lack thereof–could provide her entertainment, she’d without a doubt take it.

“Oh come on, humor me, Syd. There has to be someone,” she said, settling onto the reformer. “You’re giving off the ‘I’m seeing someone new’ glow.”

I scoffed at her. “That ‘glow’ you’re referring to is just the new overhead lighting.”

She snorted then sighed dramatically as I adjusted her stance, “You know, you should really make time for some fun.”

“I have fun.” I argued.

“Pilates and binge-watching The Office at home doesn’t count.”

She got me there.

We continued on with our session. Usually with Phoebe, time flies so fast when all she did was rant about her life–pestering me about mine–but she eventually let it go once we began the harder exercises.

I barely got a moment to breathe before moving on to my bigger group session. To my luck, this group was breeze to get through as they followed my exercises on the reformer with ease. Not to mention, the music blasting through the speakers in the studio allowed them to get into that rhythm which was helpful as well.

Just when the last song ended, the group of ladies’ chests heaved, the room was filled with breaths of exhaustion, and a few went straight for their water bottles.

“Alright, ladies! Great work today! Hope to see you in our next class.”

They all left one by one, saying ‘bye’ on their way out, until I was the only one left.

Two or three classes to teach in the mornings usually had me working around lunch.

And by then, I was starving. 

My routine was pretty much the same, there was not a lot to do with an hour break. But, most days consisted of grabbing a quick meal at the nearest bistro or cafe with my closest friend. As I was about to pick up my things off the floor, my phone in my pocket buzzed.

Speak of the devil herself.

“Hey, Diane,” I answered, tucking my phone in between my ear and shoulder as I packed.

“Are we still on for lunch? I’m already at the café.”

I heard the faint lively sounds of the city of Vancouver in the background. “Yeah, I’m about to leave the studio and make my way–”

“Sydney?”

Right as I was trying to make a beeline to the doors, I turned to see Grace–the owner of the studio–peeking out her office door. My stomach dropped.

“One sec, Di.” I lowered my phone, ending the call. “Everything alright, Grace?”

“Can you step into my office for a minute?”

Fuck. This cannot be good. 

I followed her inside. It was a rare sight to see any of the studio employees in Grace’s office, she usually came to talk to me after my classes, never the other way around.

She never gave off vibes that ever intimidated me. I have never seen her upset with anyone, unless they truly pushed her buttons. The word ‘nervous’ wasn’t enough to express how I was feeling right then and there.

“Have a seat,” she gestured to the empty chair across from her. I gave her a smile, but beneath that was a wave of anxiety washing over me.

I tried to figure out what I might have done wrong. Did someone complain? Did I mix up the schedules or bookings? Did Phoebe finally rat me out for showing up late most of the time? The idea of me getting fired was not on my list of things today.

Grace sat behind her desk, clasping her hands together. “I have some news for you.”

Oh God. This is it. I was getting fired.

“I know your lunch break just started, so I’ll just get straight to it.” Grace had always been forward when she spoke. “There’s an opportunity with the Vancouver Canucks. Their management reached out about a summer cross-training program. They wanted us to coordinate it.”

I blinked at her, “And…?”

“And I told them you’d do it.”

As if my eyes couldn’t get any wider than it was. I stared at her in complete and utter disbelief, waiting for some sort of punchline. “You’re joking.”

Grace smiled, “Nope.”

I would have never imagined she’d say those words. This might be worse than getting fired.

There had been a few occasions when I had worked with soccer clubs, and a few college football players for cross-training. But, I had never done a session with the professional leagues such as the NHL. This was way different.

“Grace, I’m flattered but–” I thought about my words carefully, “I have a full schedule this summer and–”

“I am aware of your busy schedule,” she said, waving a hand. “I already adjusted your schedule accordingly to accommodate for this.”

Of course she did..

I opened my mouth, then closed it. This conversation was already headed towards the direction I dreaded. “There are other instructors here that I think are more qualified–who have worked in this studio for much longer that are more deserving for this job.”

Grace raised a brow at me, “Do you think I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you were more than qualified?”

Shit. I had that coming. I basically dug that hole myself. 

I stayed silent for my own good, Grace knew she was right and she sighed. 

“They want you,” she said simply.

“What? Why?”

I answered a bit too quickly, unknowingly raising my voice an octave or two. I shift in my chair, clearing my throat having just panicked in front of my boss.

“Well, given that you have a good background on hockey, I thought you were perfect for the position. Not to mention that their head coach, Rick Tocchet, had also referred to you. And if it helps, it’s not the entire team you will train with. Just two of their players.” Her lips twitched as she leaned in her seat. “One of them being your brother.”

My stomach twisted. I should have seen this from a mile away. Why didn’t I make that connection instantly right when she said ‘Vancouver Canucks’?

After all, my older brother Simon was one of the top forwards for the team.

Although, he may be my family and I would do anything for him–I wouldn’t train him or anyone on his team for that matter. Hockey was Simon’s thing, and I had my own so we stayed out of each other’s lane. And we like to keep it that way.

Plus, I wasn’t all that into men that played hockey. They weren’t my go-to type. But, I would be lying to myself if I didn't think there were some head-turners, but nothing too crazy of the sort. I have never dated a hockey guy.

I blinked, tapping out of my short trance. My brain was processing the fact that I was going to spend all summer with my brother and his teammate. 

Which led me to another question for Grace. 

“So, if I’m training my brother–” I said, dragging out the last word. “–who is the other?”

She took a moment before she replied, “Quinn Hughes.”

That brought me to a full stop. What?

My eyes were nothing but bloodshot, “Quinn Hughes?” There was absolutely no hiding my distraught expression, even if I tried my hardest to contain it. “That’s asking for the impossible, Grace. It would take a miracle for those two to work together.”

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover what I was feeling.

Simon hated Quinn Hughes. I have spent the last few years listening to him ranting about how Quinn came in a year after he was drafted and ‘ruined’ everything–climbing the ranks, breaking franchise records as a defensemen, and taking the spotlight. 

I never truly understood the obsession. Simon had never acted this way growing up, especially towards another teammate. Now, he’s spent years resenting Quinn, blaming him for everything that has gone wrong in his career. I have asked multiple times specifically why he hated him so much, all I got was some half-assed answer.

And I’ve never met the guy, but from what I’ve seen, he seems alright.

“Your job is to make sure they don’t kill each other,” Grace continued. “I told Rick Tocchet you’d do it. And of course, you will be paid. More importantly, the Canucks’ are willing to invest in our studio. We’re growing and this would help fund more studios to expand, Sydney.”

Wow. It would be a great deal for Lumé Wellness now that I think about it. After adding the brand new Pilates reformers and more intensive sessions, our class attendances shot through the roof. The space in our studio was limited and we were growing in numbers as waitlists were piling up. 

What kind of Pilates instructor would I be if I didn’t want that for the studio?

I exhaled a sigh, “What about the media? They will be a problem–”

“We will handle it,” Grace cut me off. “After what happened last night, there’s no doubt that the press will track two of their star players’ moves throughout the summer. That’s why Rick, the Canuck’s team, and I will ensure that we will keep the training sessions on the down-low to prevent the media from talking.” 

That reassured me to an extent, but I was still skeptical. This was a bad idea.

It was easy to figure out why this arrangement was set in the first place. Those two, especially my brother, needed to stop acting like children and start acting like grown adults. Play like real professional hockey players. 

After the loss last night, it was only a matter of time when their team did something about it. I was surprised that it took them long enough. A few years ago, I wondered why they hadn't forced them to be stranded on an island together. Maybe surviving off an island together surely would have allowed them to work together at least.

The look in Grace’s eyes were telling me that there was no way out of this. Even if I came up with more excuses or tried to find a replacement, her (and apparently Rick Tocchet) mind was already made up.

I leaned back in my chair, my head was spinning in constant circles. “Is there any way for me to get out of this?”

“No.”

Damn. A complete shut down.

“Of course not,” I mumbled.

She gave me a knowing look, “Everything will be fine, that I can assure you, Sydney. Sessions will begin in two weeks.”

And just like that, my fate was sealed. Great.

I nodded my head as Grace dismissed me out of her office, gave her a small wave. I stepped out of the studio, took a deep breath trying to process what just happened in the last few minutes. I still couldn’t believe it.

My phone went off. Four missed calls and numerous text messages from Diane.

I called her back, and the second she picked up, she was already yelling. “Where the hell are you?”

A dull throb in my temple ached. “I got held up, I’ll be there in ten.”

“What happened?”

I sighed and began walking down the sidewalk. “You’re never going to believe me if I told you.”

The café was already packed by the time I got there, the low hum of conversation blending with the clinking of cups and the hiss of the espresso machine.

I spotted Diane almost immediately, she sat by the window, with a half-eaten bagel and small bits of crumbs on the table. She glanced up just as I approached her and instantly raised a brow.

“You’re late,” she said, pointing at me with her bagel in hand. “Again.”

“Sorry, I got held up.” I told her as I dropped into the chair across from her.

She playfully scoffed and held up her now empty cup, “Enough that I already finished one latte.” She smirked before setting it down. “Alright, spill. What was so important that you hung up on me and left me hanging here?”

“Grace.”

Diane’s eyes widened at that. She knew how rare it was for me–or anyone in the studio– to get caught up in Grace’s hair to get sent to her office. There were only good things I have told Diane about my boss over the years. Like the time she gave all the studio employees a gift certificate to the infamous spa in the north side of the city. It was generous of her, but it was quite expensive.

I took a deep breath before explaining to my friend of my new summer plans. Having to say it all out loud made me realize how real this was. It was going to happen and I wasn’t just dreaming in that office.

“Wait. I’m sorry, what?” Diane nearly choked on her coffee.

“Yep,” I popped the ‘p’, and nodded at her. “You heard me.”

For a split second, there was silence. 

Her face lit up accompanied with a squeal. Oh no. Here we go.

Diane’s expression was something between shock and excitement, “Syd, are you serious? That’s freaking nuts!” Unaware of her volume, she earned the glances of other customers in the café. We were both quick to give them apologetic nods. She leaned closer across the table, her voice quieter this time, “That’s huge, Syd!”

I scoffed, “I wouldn’t call it that.”

Diane grinned, “Are you kidding? You get to train professional athletes. NHL players. Do you know how many people would kill for that opportunity?”

She was right. It’s not everyday that you get to work with athletes in the big leagues. Anyone in the studio could have easily taken this job and taken the news a lot more lightly and professionally than I did. But no, oddly enough I didn’t have any other choice or say in the decision.

I shook my head at her, slumping into my seat. “It’s not that simple.”

Diane tilted her head as if I grew another pair of eyes, “What’s not simple about that? You get to train with your brother and I don’t think that’s all too difficult, right? Shouldn’t it be easier since he is your brother?”

As much as I loved my brother, we liked keeping our lives separate from each other. He had his career, and I had mine. Not saying that I wasn’t proud of him or embarrassed that my brother was one of the hockey stars in the league. I was very proud that he achieved his dreams, why wouldn’t I be? I just liked supporting him from the sidelines. 

“Me and Simon are close but–” I paused, tracing the rim of my coffee cup with my finger. “We don’t mix our careers or get involved in each other’s business. Now, I’m being thrown right into it and it just…complicates things.”

Diane watched me carefully, “Is that really a bad thing?”

I hesitated before answering her. “I’ve never really been a part of his hockey world, this was totally unexpected. Hell, I don’t even know if he knows about it. He hasn’t texted me since yesterday before the game.” 

“Okay, so you’re only training your brother. Big deal. It’s not like you’re training with the whole team.” She waved a hand, acting like that was the only issue I was dealing with.

I shot her a look, I accidentally left out a big piece of information while explaining to her.

“And Quinn Hughes,” I added flatly.

Diane’s jaw dropped to the floor, “Wait–Quinn Hughes? As in, the captain of the team and the best defensemen in the league ‘Quinn Hughes’?”

As far as hockey goes for Diane, she had no interest in the sport, unless there was eye-candy on the team. When it came down to the NHL, the only names she was familiar with were the ‘good-looking’ guys, my brother, and Quinn Hughes. 

I nodded, then took a quick sip of my coffee, “Apparently, my job is to make sure they don’t kill each other during the summer.”

“Wow. That’s definitely…something.”

“Exactly.” I crossed my arms. “I barely know Quinn. But, Simon? He’s been going off about the guy for years. And now I’m supposed to train them. Together? That’s a shitshow waiting to happen.”

Diane shrugged her shoulders, looking at me thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s an opportunity.”

My brow raised at that, “To do what? Watch my brother have a meltdown? Yeah, no thanks.” 

“But–”

I groaned, “Diane.”

She was teasing, and she never fails to get away with it. “I’m just saying, maybe this isn’t the worst thing. You’ll be challenged. You’ll make new connections. And–” She paused. “Who knows, this might just be the most interesting thing going for you right now since the accident–nevermind, sorry.”

Ouch. That stung.

But, Diane was right. As much as I’d like to think that my life was perfect and everything was going the right places, deep down, I knew it wasn’t. Ever since I got hurt and went through months of recovering, the course of direction my life was heading towards took a hard turn.

Now, I have ended up here. But, I wasn’t not grateful as things could have been worse, very worse. Over the years, I had to learn how to go with the flow and accept it.

I knew she didn’t mean to say that with bad intentions. Diane always wanted what was best for me, and I was glad that she felt that way since I would do the same with her. She was my longest friend for as long as I could remember.

She gave me an apologetic smile, “If anything, maybe your brother can introduce you to his teammates or–”

I playfully shook my head, then stood up with my empty cup in my hands. “I’m getting more coffee.”

She laughed, “Fine. But, I am not done talking about this.”

I gave her a look over my shoulder before heading over to the front counter. The café was even busier now, and I had to squeeze past a few people waiting for their orders. I handed my cup to the barista, tapping my fingers against the counter as I waited.

Diane’s words lingered in my head. Maybe this was a big opportunity, Maybe I was overreacting. But there was still that anxious feeling in my stomach, my subconscious telling me that I was not ready for this.

The barista handed me the the refilled cup, and I turned back towards our table–

Only to be met with a sudden, solid force.

The next thing I knew, the warmth of hot coffee spilled down the front of my hoodie. I sucked in a sharp breath as the heat seared against my skin right through the fabric. “Fuck!”

The impact rattled me, as I staggered back, barely managing to keep hold of the cup and maintaining my balance. I looked down at the damage, dark brown stains spread across the pale gray fabric.

I clenched my jaw. Just perfect. 

“Shit, I–”

I glanced up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of my fucking mind and–

I froze. No, it can’t be.

Quinn fucking Hughes.

Stood right in front of me, low and behold, looked just as surprised as I did.

Up close, he was taller than I expected–maybe I was just short– lean but solid, his broad shoulders filling out his fitted black hoodie effortlessly. His dark hair was slightly tousled under his hat; damp at the ends like he’d just finished practice or a workout, and completely blended with the crowd of people as if he wasn’t one of the biggest NHL players in the league.

I blinked, my brain lagging for a second. I’ve seen him on TV, many times before, in clips that Simon had angrily sent me after a few bad games, but seeing him up close was different. Very different.

He had his own unique attractiveness, I won’t lie. He had the light scruffy stubble around his jaw–sharp jawline, and piercing greenish blue eyes that made him look intense, but there was a softness in the way that he blinked at me, momentarily thrown off.

What was he doing here of all places?

He didn’t seem to realize that I wasn’t saying anything and ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I, uh–” He hesitated, looking vaguely horrified at the sight of my hoodie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t paying attention.”

I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to calm down despite the feeling of coffee soaking into my hoodie. “Yeah, no kidding.”

 He pulled a handful of napkins from the counter and offered them to me, “Here.”

“Thanks.” I took them from his grasp and attempted to clean the stain, knowing it wouldn’t do much but tried anyway. 

“I can buy you another one,” Quinn offered, nodding towards the counter. “Or, at least a new hoodie?

I shook my head, frustrated that the napkins were making my hoodie worse. “I don’t need anything from an NHL player, alright–”

Oh shit. My eyes widened as soon as the words slipped from my mouth. 

That caught him off guard, and so had I.

Quinn’s expression lit up and brows furrowed instantly at that, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “So, you know who I am?”

“Yes, I do.” I said in a tone indicating that it wasn’t a good thing. 

He studied me for a moment. Probably thinking that I was a hockey fan or whatnot.

“Can I at least get your name or number?” He paused, scrambling to rephrase what his intentions were behind that question. “To replace your hoodie or pay for dry cleaning, anything to fix what I caused.”

He sounded pretty genuine and his intentions were nothing but pure, hopefully.

I gave him a look, “I’m not making you buy me a hoodie. I can take care of this–” I looked down at the mess. “–myself. So, I think I’ll respectfully pass up on that offer of yours.”

As I was about to turn my back on him, his fingers found the material of my sleeve, and swiftly pulled me back. “Hey look, I’d feel really bad if I left here without making it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” 

He only nodded, which amused me.

“I think I can survive without your help, but thanks.”

Quinn’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but thought the better of it before I turned around.

I felt his eyes linger on me as soon as I made my way back to Diane. She watched the whole thing and she looked like she was about to lose her damn mind once I sat down.

I glanced over my shoulder back to where Quinn stood. I was so lost in that interaction that I hadn’t noticed two other of his Canuck buddies were standing behind him. I watched them laughing–most likely teasing him–about what they witnessed. Great, that was just great.

“What the actual fuck just happened, Syd?” 

I wish I knew.

all rights reserved © 2025 hellvst. please do not copy, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[dearestzaychik]

Our Forsakened Destiny.

This Fanfic is for those starving Forsaken Fans out there by the way!!

(( same here ngl... ))

[ Forsaken x Isekai'd Reader ]

[ Gender Neutral Reader ]

TW : Cursing, Touching Jokes ( only mentioned once ), DoubleFedora Mentioned but It's not something that will happen during the actual story.

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[ PROLOGUE ]

READER’S POV.

Clouds up in the skies, in a bustling city during the afternoon as they woke up to the sound of ringing.

“..What time is it already?”

Stated the individual, picking their phone up from the stand as they glanced at the upcoming discord notifications and a call from their friends. Their messages flickering in the channel as the Voice channel looked to be active as well. Looks like Peanut is the most active in the channel as of late.

MENTAL ASYLUM

The NUT :

@Loser101

Join.

Naps :

They might be asleep nut..

The NUT :

at 2 in the afternoon

I don’t think so

Their waking up bc

I said so!

Loser101 :

Boo

Hobo :

Oh my goodness me

Toilet

Menoes :

WAITT THEIR BOTH ALIVE

Hobo :

Im pooping rn

Loser101 :

Hold your horses I jst woke up..

The NUT :

Did you

stay up late..

again

Loser101 :

Yeah…

Menoes :

I think we might have gotten [ Y/N ] addicted to Forsaken..

The NUT :

GOOD

Now join us!!

@Loser101

Naps :

Don’t forget to join VC as well!

Stupid Idiot :

[ Sent an Attachment. ]

Loser101 :

Hold on I still need to get up dawg..

The NUT :

well be quicker

Menoes :

Veen I’m gonna touch you.

Stupid Idiot :

Yeahhh I’m switching out of 07..

Menoes :

WAITT NO I'M SORRY—

Naps :

Oh my days, Just play the game already the match is starting!

[ Message #general ]

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Right, Your dear friends. A few days ago, they seemed to pull you into a game called Forsaken on Roblox. Usually, you don't play games such as Roblox, preferring Identity V over games like that. But they somehow pulled you into a Roblox Game that had somewhat of the same mechanics as Identity V, hence the heavy persuasion from Peanut especially.

“Impatient as always.”

You quoted, knowing how impatient Peanut can be. They already seemed to have started before you, but nevertheless they can wait a little longer. After all, you just woke up and you at least needed to get ready for the day.

THIRD PERSON POV.

Getting up from the bed, slipping into your bunny slippers as you walked to the Kitchen. Turning on the Coffee Machine.. It was just a normal day like always, Thankfully there was a Holiday during Friday meant it was gonna be a Long Weekend. You didn’t need to worry about going to work for now, that’s for sure.

Peanut and the others are still waiting, but they wouldn’t mind waiting for a little while longer. Even though you played the game, you didn't know much compared to how the group knew the Techniques and Story for each character. Maybe the basics of the gameplay you definitely grasped, but the Story behind the characters? Not so much. Maybe the simplified version, but even so it's still limited knowledge about the game itself.

Maybe one day you’ll finally find the time to actually start reading and looking into the story itself.

Ding! Seems like the coffee machine is done making your coffee, you can actually start going through your day.

READER’S POV.

As you were about to take a sip of your freshly brewed coffee, a notification rang in the air once more.. Right, Peanut and the others were still waiting for you. As you opened Discord, you didn’t bother to read the messages in the channel as you immediately joined the VC.

“Oh my god… The whole entire server is targeting us at this point!”

Stated Naps, seemingly frustrated at the current situation she had at hand.

“We’re healers, of course they would target us because we are practically a whole healing buffet for the survivors if we keep surviving!”

Meos replied to Naps, At this point not taking everything seriously as he laughed it off.

“Finally, [ Y/N ] joined the vc... Join us right now in Forsaken or else I’m gonna fucking loose it.. I’m about to be killer right now and may Zeus strike me down if I’m lying, I’M GONNA MURDER THIS FUCKING GUEST-”

Peanut suddenly shot out, before muting her mic. She doesn’t usually open her mic unless it's to call something out or rant about a player, either way Peanut is just.. being Peanut.

“Alright, alright.. Just give me a moment to open my PC then I’ll join.”

You, along with Meos and Naps continued to chat in the call as you joined the server. Looks like Veen was in here too, but he didn’t have his mic opened. Either way, you managed to join in time as the Round loaded in, With Peanut being the Killer as Mafioso.. While you played Chance, unable to switch characters either way since you joined as soon as the round started.

“WAIT OH MY GOD THERE’S A 007N7 IN THE ROUND–”

“Meos, No.”

Surprisingly after that whole thing as well as Peanut killing off the Toxic Guest she wanted to kill, The round was a friendly round as Peanut didn’t seem to want to kill anybody else.. Other than the fact that she was approaching you slowly of course.. She shipped DoubleFedora, but was very open to other ships of course. The pinnacle of being a Multishipper..

“No, no, no. Stop being gay...”

Naps stated, trying to body block Peanut away from you, definitely done from Peanut’s shenanigans.. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, this was the usual events that happened during your gameplays with your dear friends. Sadly, Caleb and Debt didn’t seem to be able to play today, but there were still plenty of times to play with them either way.

“Sorry guys, I prefer 1x1x1x1 x Sonic the Hedgehog as my OTP..”

Veen suddenly stated, jumpscaring everybody with how randomly timed he opened his mic. Earning a questionable silence in the voice call before the collection of sudden screams replied..

“..WHAT-”

After the round ended, A Message popped up onto your screen. It quoted..

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[ team c00lkidd join today! ]

- [ YES ]

- [ NO ] [ YES. ]

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“..Guys, do you know what this message is?”

Although it seemed to be somewhat in themed of what you’re playing, considering there was a Killer that was themed around c00lkidd, but you couldn’t help but feel wary about the message. After all, none of your friends ever mentioned a message like this.

“What do you mean by a message? Did someone message you?”

Meos asked, seemingly clueless about the message you received. His tone feigned concern, earning you Naps and the other’s attention as well.

“..No, it's a message box that popped up in the game. It says `team c00lkidd join today`.”

Before you could even get a reply from any of your friends, your PC started crashing as multiple errors seemed to come out while everything else was becoming glitchy and distorted. Your friends tried reaching out, feigning even more concern when you didn’t respond.

“..[ Y/N ]? A—-re yo[] there?—”

“Can yo[] 6ear u—”

The voices of your friends glitching out before an uncomfortable silence lingered in the air, their voices long gone as the only thing you seemed to be able to hear was a static noise coming from your PC. Suddenly, there was a force pulling you in specifically from the Monitor itself. No matter how hard you tried to pull yourself away from it, the harder it was to get out of this predicament. Eventually, the force overpowered your feeble strength as a human, getting sucked inside the Monitor as everything around you seemed to crumble apart and glitch out even more.

You were scared, frightened to say the least. After all, You still had so much to live for. Looking at your hands as you fell into a black abyss, you can see yourself glitching out as well. Although it was painless, it sent a wave of sickness through you. As the further you fell, the more it was a struggle to even open your eyes. The last thing you could see before you passed out was a pop up in red stating..

[ Welcome to your new home. ]

:)

Whether that message was meant to comfort you or not, It definitely didn’t help. Whatever was happening to you, it was far from normal against Human standards if it weren’t so obvious enough. Cursing yourself as you couldn’t open your eyes any longer, succumbing to the abyss that pulled you further and further as your little life was about to take a turn. 

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[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED. ]

Welcome to Hell.

NOTES

I'm starving so I decided to cook food myself.. It might look like a bit of a joke first but we can take some jokes then and there! Especially since this is just the prologue :3

Right now, this is a small introduction to a series so do hope in mind that everything might not stay the same!

[wherearedagrapes]

Man, we have almost the exact same ideas about Amy! That’s crazy Haha! She’s been one of my favorite Sonic characters since I first played (I think it was) Sonic Adventure 2 as a little kid? I loved that she was pink and small but brandished this big hammer and big personality. I’m hoping she keeps that, which means, yeah I both want and expect movie Sonic and Amy to have a bit of a rocky start lol But that’ll make the balance they establish later more rewarding.

I also think it’s more interesting than Amy being seen as this, like, perfect dream girl that Sonic spends the movie trying to get with. As cute as the fam giving Sonic dating advice would be, I really need Amy to be complex and kind of a pain like the other characters. I want her to challenge Sonic (and vice versa). I want them to learn from each other, to grow because of each other. Since that’s been the case with all the characters introduced in the movies thus far, I’m not too worried. But, you know, there’s always going to be a little wariness.

I’m excited to see movie Sonic and Amy’s dynamic as buds beyond that friction as teammates. They’re both playful, high-energy characters that I can see keeping up with each other’s quips and bits and having similar senses of humor. I think they can match each other’s freak in a way their game counterparts don’t exactly lol… Again, the movies have done such a great job with Tom and Maddie that I’m not that worried. Like I constantly think about how we’re introduced to them as a couple — with Maddie having bought two cakes for Tom in case he didn’t get the job in San Fran and pulling out the wrong one by mistake lmao like that’s so funny, and right away it tells us so much about them! But I’m getting sidetracked. Anyway

What you described, Amy being kind of a control freak in the team at first because she’s desperately trying to keep the situation from becoming worse — because she’s so passionate about this, about saving the world — is exactly what I see! Those obsessive traits of hers manifesting from her obsession with this mission, her life’s mission essentially. (Much like Knuckles guarding the Master Emerald) This is her destiny. And in being so obstinate and self-sacrificing, she’s actually sabotaging her chances of success. Yes!!

I didn’t notice the explosion is blue and pink — that’s very interesting… And Ivo being sent to the past instead is totally plausible. I don’t know how I feel about Amy having chaos powers though. Like, okay — I’m not super familiar with Sonic game lore, but having chaos powers is supposed to be rare. Right? In the games, it’s just Shadow. In the movies, I think it’s Shadow and Sonic? And having that power is treated as a very special (and dangerous) thing.

All of the alien characters definitely have heightened abilities. Knuckles also seems to have inherited and learned specific abilities from his tribe. So I can see Amy having some clairvoyance due to her family or culture. But that’s not chaos energy, right? Or is it? Is chaos energy like the Force in Star Wars? Lol I guess I’m curious why you think Amy has chaos powers aside from Metal Sonic creating that pink energy blast.

With Amy coming along, I can't stop thinking about the Amy-Sonic/Tom-Maddie parallels.

You know, the pink and blue scheme, Tom having a similar personality to Sonic and Amy possibly having some similarities to Maddie, Amy and Maddie possibly being two big city girls with Amy being from New York and Maddie from San Francisco while Tom and Sonic are both from Green Hills, the setup of Amy plus 3 Wachowski siblings as well as Maddie and Tom, who canonically have siblings too.

They've been foreshadowing this couple since the second movie, fight me!!

(and Tom x Maddie are the parents and couple ever, I love them!)

(Also, please give Maddie more prominence. She's awesome!)

[honeyscara]

❝not a joke ❞ — Shoyo Hinata

-haikyu{manga spoilers}

Synopsis: childhood besties to lovers, hinata is finally back from Brazil and things take a turn when he's back.

C/w: fem! reader x timeskip!hinata, no smut in this part but it's suggestive

~4.2k words, this is part 1

You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater as you stood near the arrival gates, your heart pounding in anticipation. It had been two years since you last saw Hinata. Two years since he had left for Brazil, chasing his dream. You had kept in touch—video calls, texts, the occasional voice note—but nothing could compare to seeing him in person again.

Then, finally, you spotted him.

The moment he stepped through the gates, your breath hitched.

This wasn’t the same scrawny, hyperactive boy who used to race you to the convenience store or challenge you to impromptu volleyball matches at the park. No, this Hinata was different. He stood taller, broader, his frame filled out with muscle in a way that made your stomach flip. His tanned skin, sharp jawline, and confident stride made it clear—Brazil had changed him.And damn, he looked good.

Your legs moved before your brain could catch up. "sho!"

His head snapped up, and the second his eyes landed on you, his entire face lit up. "___!"

In an instant, you crashed into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his strong ones curled around your waist. He lifted you off the ground effortlessly, spinning you once before setting you down, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"You're real," you mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing him tight. "You're actually here."

Hinata pulled back just enough to look at you, his wide grin never faltering. "Of course I’m here! Did you think I was some clone?" He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you felt a lump form in your throat.

You smacked his arm playfully. "Shut up, you know what I mean."

Hinata chuckled, his grip on you tightening for a moment before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you. His bright eyes searched your face, as if making sure you were real too.

"And you haven’t changed at all!" he teased, ruffling your hair like he used to, though there was something softer in the way he did it now—more affectionate than playful.

You swatted his hand away with a pout. "Speak for yourself! What happened to the little tangerine I used to know?"

Hinata grinned, flexing his arm exaggeratedly. "Turns out playing beach volleyball in the sun every day does wonders!"

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, big shot. Let’s go—your mom’s been texting me every five minutes asking if you’re here yet."

His eyes widened. "Oh, crap. She’s gonna kill me if I don’t call her right now."

With a laugh, you grabbed his wrist and started dragging him toward the exit. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through you, a reminder that he was really back. No more time differences, no more lagging video calls. Just him. Here. Now.

As you walked side by side, Hinata glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "I missed you."

Your steps faltered slightly before you caught yourself. The words were simple, but the way he said them—soft, sincere—made your heart stutter.

You swallowed, pushing away the sudden rush of emotions. "Yeah, me too, Sho."

~

The next day came quicker than you expected, and as you got ready, a strange mix of excitement and nervousness settled in your chest. It shouldn’t have felt like a big deal—you were just taking Hinata out for the meal you’d promised. But something about it felt… different. Maybe it was because you weren’t kids anymore. You had both grown, matured, changed. And though Hinata was still his usual energetic self, there was a newfound confidence in him that made your stomach flip.

You smoothed down the floral dress you’d picked out—simple, cute, just short enough to feel a little daring but not too revealing. With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your bag just as the doorbell rang.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

And Hinata froze.

His brain seemed to short-circuit for a second as he took you in, eyes widening slightly before he quickly cleared his throat.

"You…" He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off whatever had just come over him. "You look—uh—wow."

You raised an amused brow. "Wow?"

A faint flush crept up his tanned cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean—you look really nice! Like, really, really nice."

Your lips curled into a teasing smile. "Thanks, Sho."

And just like that, his usual grin returned, though his heart still hammered in his chest as he stepped aside for you. What the hell was that? You’d always been pretty, but for some reason, tonight, seeing you like this, it felt like his heart might actually leap out of his chest.

~

The restaurant you picked was a cozy little spot, nothing too fancy but perfect for catching up. The two of you settled into a booth, ordering your food while slipping easily into conversation. Hinata had endless stories about Brazil—the intense training, the beautiful beaches, the culture, the food. His eyes practically sparkled as he talked, his excitement infectious.

At some point, between bites of your meal, the topic of dating came up.

"So," you leaned back, stirring your drink with your straw. "Did you see any hot girls in Brazil? You know, sitting on the benches watching you play?"

Hinata smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh yeah, plenty."

You hadn’t expected your stomach to twist at his response, but it did. You forced a laugh, taking a sip of your drink to mask the unexpected pang of disappointment. "Wow, look at you. Living the dream, huh?"

He grinned but didn’t say anything right away, just watching you with a knowing look. Then, after a beat, he leaned forward on his elbows. "I was just teasing, you know."

You blinked. "Huh?"

Hinata chuckled, shaking his head. "You looked kinda sad for a second."

You quickly waved him off. "Pfft, no way. I was just surprised, that’s all."

He didn’t seem convinced, but he let it slide. Instead, he tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his expression. "What about you? Did you like anyone while I was gone?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Please. No guys would go for me."

Hinata frowned. "What? That’s not true."

You gave a half-hearted shrug. "It’s fine, really. I mean, I guess I just wasn’t anyone’s type. Maybe I should start carrying a sign that says desperate and available might speed up the process." You laughed at your own joke, but Hinata didn’t.

Instead, his brows furrowed, and he leaned in just slightly, voice softer now. "You know, if any guy didn’t see how amazing you are, that’s their loss."

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around your glass.

He said it so naturally, like it was just a fact. Like it wasn’t something that made your heart stutter in your chest.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The way Hinata looked at you—earnest, unwavering—made your usual ability to deflect and joke disappear. You swallowed, breaking eye contact as you toyed with the rim of your glass.

"Well," you said, forcing a chuckle to lighten the mood, "good thing I have you to boost my ego."

Hinata huffed, shaking his head. "I’m serious." His voice was firmer this time. "You’re funny, kind, and you’ve always been there for me. I don’t get why some guy hasn’t already swept you off your feet."

Your heart pounded against your ribs. He said it so casually, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t making your chest tighten in a way that felt dangerous.

You tried to brush it off with another laugh. "Guess I’m just too intimidating."

Hinata snorted. "Yeah, right." Then, after a beat, he grinned. "Maybe guys just think they don’t have a chance with you."

That caught you off guard. "What?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "I mean, think about it. You’re cool, you’re cute—maybe they’re just scared to confess."

Your breath hitched. Did he just—?

Before you could even process it, Hinata stretched his arms over his head, completely unaware of the effect his words had on you. "Anyway! Doesn’t matter. If they’re too dumb to see how great you are, then they don’t deserve you."

You stared at him, something fluttering in your chest. He was still the same Hinata—loud, a little clueless, always brimming with energy. But sometimes, just sometimes, he said things that made you wonder if maybe he saw you differently than he used to. And maybe… maybe you were starting to see him differently too.

As the two of you stepped out of the restaurant, a sudden downpour greeted you. The once-clear sky had turned dark, raindrops pelting down hard against the pavement.

"Ah, crap," you muttered, pulling your arms close to yourself as a chilly breeze followed. "I didn’t check the weather."

Hinata groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Me neither." He glanced around before perking up. "hey, my place is closer. No one’s home either so you can stay over...maybe?"

You stared at him for a second before smirking. "Hinata Shoyo, are you trying to get me alone?"

Hinata choked. "Wha—?! No! I didn’t mean it like that!" He flailed his arms, face heating up. "It’s just—y-you always used to come over when we were kids, right? It’d be like a sleepover! But, uh, not in a weird way! Just—y'know—so you don’t have to walk home in the rain!"

You stared at him, amused by how fast he was unraveling.

He cleared his throat, still clearly flustered. "I-I have a spare pair of clothes you can borrow! So you don’t get sick!"

You bit back a smile, watching him trip over his words. "Relax, I’m just joking with you."

His shoulders slumped with relief. "Don’t do that to me," he whined.

You laughed, nudging his arm. "Alright, alright. Let’s go before we get completely drenched."

Hinata huffed, pulling his hoodie up. But as the two of you started jogging toward his place, you couldn’t help but feel that same strange flutter in your chest from earlier. Because as silly and panicked as he got… he still wanted to take care of you.

By the time you reached Hinata’s place, you were both soaked. Your dress clung uncomfortably to your skin, and Hinata’s hoodie was drenched, his damp hair sticking to his forehead.

"Okay, yeah, this was a terrible idea," he admitted between breaths, shaking out his arms like a wet dog.

You laughed, hugging yourself for warmth. "I told you we should’ve just called a cab."

"Where’s the fun in that?" He grinned before stepping aside to let you in.

You walked through the hallway, the familiar scent of Hinata’s home wrapping around you like a nostalgic hug. It felt like stepping into the past, except… everything felt different now.

His bedroom door was slightly ajar, and you peeked inside.

It was almost exactly how you remembered it—volleyball posters, random clothes on the chair, and his bed a little messy but still welcoming. The only real difference was the trophies and medals on his shelf, a testament to how far he’d come.

As you stepped inside, your fingers ran over the edge of his desk, your mind lost in memories of all the times you had spent in this room, whether it was watching dumb videos, challenging each other to games, or just lying on the floor talking about your dreams.

Then—

"Boo!"

"AH!" You jumped, spinning around just as Hinata burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.

"Hinata, you idiot!" You smacked his arm, but he barely flinched, too busy laughing at your reaction."Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t resist!" He grinned, holding out a towel and some dry clothes—a worn T-shirt and a pair of shorts. "Here, you can change into these."

You grabbed them, still glaring. "I should make you suffer for that scare."

Hinata smirked. "Oh no, are you gonna steal my bed and make me sleep on the floor?"

"Tempting," you muttered, looking down at the clothes. His T-shirt looked big—big enough that it would probably hang loosely over you. "Guess I’ll be swimming in these."

Hinata chuckled. "Better than staying in that wet dress."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, making your way to the bathroom. The second you shut the door, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

This felt… weird. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made your heart race a little too fast. You’d stayed over at Hinata’s plenty of times as kids, but this was different. You weren’t kids anymore.

As you changed in the bathroom, you realized with a sigh that your bra was just as drenched as your dress. There was no way you were putting it back on as it clung uncomfortably to your skin, cold and heavy with rain. You hesitated for a second before deciding to go without it, pulling on Hinata’s oversized t-shirt instead. The fabric was soft, slightly worn, and it smelled like him—fresh laundry mixed with something undeniably Hinata.You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to make yourself look somewhat presentable before stepping out.

When you stepped out, Hinata glanced up from where he was towel-drying his hair, and just like before, he froze. His brain short-circuited.

At first, he had just been prepared to tease you about how his clothes practically swallowed you whole. But then his gaze caught on the way the loose fabric draped over you, how it shifted with your movements, and...oh

You weren’t wearing a bra. The way the thin material did absolutely nothing to hide the erect peaks poking out from underneath, and the soft swell beneath it.

Hinata’s face went up in flames.

Oh. Oh.

He ripped his gaze away so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, suddenly finding the most fascinating spot on the floor to stare at. Don't look, don't look, don't look—

But it was too late. That single glance was already burned into his brain, and no amount of panicked mental screaming was going to erase it.

"N-nothing!" His voice cracked, and he gripped the towel in his hands like it was a lifeline. "You just—uh—you look comfortable!"

You smirked, completely oblivious to the absolute war happening in his head. "What, jealous that I pull off your clothes better than you do?"

Hinata let out the most unconvincing laugh of his life. "Y-yeah! I mean, no! No way!" He could feel his ears burning, and he desperately tried to focus on literally anything else. "S-so, uh, movie?"

You stretched your arms over your head with a yawn, completely unaware of how his eyes almost flickered down again before he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stare straight ahead.

"Yeah, sure," you said, flopping onto the couch beside him.

Hinata grabbed the remote, fingers fumbling as he picked the first thing that appeared on the screen. He had no idea what he just put on. It could’ve been a horror movie, a documentary, or a three-hour-long ad, and he wouldn’t have noticed.Because no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about the fact that you—his best friend—were sitting next to him, wearing his clothes, and making his heart race in a way that felt far too dangerous.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Hinata—still reeling from his internal meltdown—mindlessly pressed play on whatever movie popped up first. Big mistake.

Because barely fifteen minutes in, the screen suddenly shifted to a scene that made both of you freeze.

Heavy breathing. Slow, lingering touches. Clothes slipping off way too easily.

Oh. Oh.

You choked on your own spit. "Hinata—"

Hinata, already red as a tomato, practically threw the remote in his panic, scrambling to grab it again. "I—I DIDN’T KNOW! I JUST CLICKED SOMETHING!"

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to burst into nervous laughter. "Oh my god."

Hinata, on the other hand, looked like he was fighting for his life. He was stiff as a board, eyes darting anywhere but the screen. "I’ve never watched this with you before!" he blurted out, as if that somehow made this less mortifying.

You raised an eyebrow. "So, you’ve watched this alone?"

Hinata nearly died on the spot. "THAT'S NOT—!" He smacked the remote until the screen finally blessedly went black. Silence.

Then you lost it, bursting into laughter while Hinata groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is the worst."

Still giggling, you leaned back against the couch, wiping a tear from your eye. "Oh my god, Sho, that was so bad."

Hinata groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. "I swear on volleyball, I didn’t mean to put that on."

You smirked, nudging his arm. "So you have watched that kinda stuff alone, huh?"

"STOP," he whined, throwing his head back dramatically. "I’m already suffering."

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was, cheeks still red, ears burning. You’d never seen him react like this before—it was… oddly cute.

After a moment, Hinata huffed, crossing his arms. "You didn’t exactly change the channel either, y'know."

Your face heated up. "HEY! I was shocked! I wasn’t expecting to see—" You clamped your mouth shut, shaking your head rapidly. "Nope. Not finishing that sentence."

Hinata snorted, finally cracking a grin. "Yeah, let’s just pretend that never happened."

You nodded. "Agreed. Now, please pick something safe. Like, a cartoon. Or a volleyball match. Something that won’t make us want to die."

Hinata grabbed the remote again, determined. "On it. No more accidental… that."

But as he scrolled through the options, a single, dangerous thought crossed his mind...Why was it so easy to picture watching something like that with you… and not just as a joke?

As Hinata scrolled through the movie options, his mind was still stuck on what had just happened. The sheer embarrassment of it. The way you had looked at him, teasing but also—maybe—just a little flustered too.

And then there was the part that was really messing with his head… the part where, for just a split second, he’d wondered what it would be like if—

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not going there.

But then, you stretched beside him, adjusting the oversized shirt you were wearing—his shirt—and the movement drew his eyes right to where the fabric clung to you. His throat went dry.

And as if the universe wanted to make things worse, you turned to him, tilting your head. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah!" His voice cracked, and he quickly looked away, staring so hard at the TV that he was surprised it didn’t catch fire.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You sure? You’re looking kinda nervous."

"N-no! I’m fine! Totally fine!" He forced a laugh, but the way his knee was bouncing gave him away completely.

You leaned in a little, resting your chin on your hand as you studied him. "Hmmm… is it ‘cause of that scene?" Hinata froze.

A slow, knowing smile spread across your lips. "Oh my god," you whispered, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you still thinking about it?"

"I—*NO!" he practically yelled, face burning hotter than the sun. "Why would I—?!"

You let out a low hum, clearly enjoying his reaction way too much. "I mean, I get it… it was a lot," you mused, voice just a bit too playful. "Not really something we’ve ever watched together before, huh?"

Hinata swallowed hard. "Nope! Definitely not!"

You traced random patterns on the couch, pretending to be lost in thought. "Kinda makes you wonder, though…"

His brain screeched to a halt. "*Wonder what?!*"

You grinned, leaning in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart stutter. "What it’d be like to watch something like that… on purpose."

Hinata nearly died on the spot. His whole body tensed, his mind scrambling to process your words, but all he could come up with was pure, unfiltered panic.

"WHAT?!" His voice shot up so high it cracked, and he practically threw himself back against the couch as if that would somehow put distance between him and the very questionable situation unfolding.

You bit your lip, clearly enjoying every second of his meltdown. "What?" you teased, tilting your head. "Just saying…curiosity is normal, right?"

Hinata's brain was short-circuiting. His hands clenched into fists on his lap, his ears so hot they could probably fry an egg. "Curiosity—?!" He gulped, shaking his head furiously. "Nope! Nope! I refuse to be a part of whatever weird mind game this is!"

You just laughed, plopping back against the couch. "Relax, Sho. I’m just joking with you."

But that did not make him relax.

In fact, if anything, the damage was already done. Because now, no matter how hard he tried, his brain was not letting go of the thought. Watching something like that with you.On purpose. Or worse...you and him doing— no. Absolutely not.

Hinata swallowed thickly, shifting uncomfortably. He was so screwed.

You shifted closer, resting your chin on his shoulder, pretending like you weren’t feeling the heat creeping up your own neck. "Shoooo," you dragged out his name, voice laced with amusement. "Why are you so red?"

Hinata tensed like a live wire, jaw clenched, hands gripping his knees like they were the only things keeping him grounded. "I—I'm not!"

You let out a small hum, eyes flickering to the way his ears were practically glowing. "Liar," you whispered, your breath brushing against his skin. He jolted, his whole body stiffening like you’d electrocuted him.

You smirked. "Ohhh, you’re totally flustered!"

"No, I’m not!" Hinata shot back, turning to face you—big mistake. Because now, your faces were *way* closer than he expected, and for a split second, neither of you moved.

Your heart pounded. His eyes flickered down—to your lips, to the slight curve of your smirk—before snapping back up to meet your gaze.

Dangerous. Very dangerous.

And you did what any reasonable person would do when faced with this much tension. You attacked. Your fingers darted out, finding that one ticklish spot on his side, the one you knew would break him.

"AH—HEY!" Hinata practically yelped, twisting away, but you were relentless. You pushed forward, giggling as you dug your fingers into his ribs, his stomach, anywhere you could reach.

"Admit it!" you laughed. "You’re so flustered!"

"*N-nohoho—!*" Hinata was losing it, squirming as uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of him. "Stohop! It tickles"

"Never!"

He tried to escape, but you were quick, dodging his weak attempts to grab your hands. He was laughing too hard, his strength betraying him.

Then, suddenly—

Hinata snapped.

With a burst of energy, he lunged forward, grabbing your wrists and flipping the whole situation on you.

You let out a surprised gasp as your back hit the couch, Hinata looming over you, pinning your wrists above your head. His breathing was heavy, his hair slightly disheveled from all the movement.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.Your shirt had ridden up way more than either of you had realized in the chaos, exposing the smooth skin of your stomach, the subtle dip of your waist. His hands were still pinning yours above your head, but his eyes—traitorous, stupid eyes—lingered a second too long.

Too long to be normal. Too long to be ignored.

And you noticed.You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest rising and falling a little too quickly. "Shoyo…"

Wow...this took a while and it's not complete. Second part coming soon which is gonna be smut so mdni!

[sanospet]

✩ GAME OVER ✩

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - 𝘎𝘈𝘔𝘌𝘙!𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘎𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘒𝘐 𝘛𝘖𝘔𝘜𝘙𝘈 𝘟 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦 : collecting the nectar, you pressed them to his lips with a smile, following the actions he often displayed to you, tomura letting you set your digits on his tongue with a playful roll of the eyes, lapping at the liquid as you pulled them out with a sweet pop, "you're having too much fun," hitched breath cutting his words short as your fingers clasped around his length, pumping, a breathy moan all that he could manage. "you look so pretty like this, can you really blame me ?" whispering, tomura's skin burning as your lips grazed his ear, his mind whirring as the 'game over' screen's music echoed off of the walls. eyes squeezed shut, face contorting in bliss, a thin layer of sweat offering subtle highlights to his skin as you worked him, your thumb circling his tip, giving gentle squeezes.

warnings and notes!

18+ . mdni . smut . pwp . quirkless au . gamer tomura x gamer reader . oral (amab & afab receiving) . handjob . deep throating . edging . cum denial . fingering (afab receiving) . tomura lets the reader dom him a little . casual sex . they’re playing ff15 (heavily mentioned throughout but you don’t need to really know the game to read this imo) . whiny/pouty reader . usage of nicknames (“kid” , “baby”, “love”) . teasing & lots of giggles . sweet filth . reader is afab . reader’s gender is mentioned . reader’s pronouns aren’t mentioned . reader’s sex is mentioned . proofread though there may still be some spelling mistakes, enjoy!

authors note!

i haven’t posted anything in months but i’ve been writing, lol. coming up with a lot of different concepts as well as sparsely working on the next chapter of “veiled blossoms”, it’s just kinda heavy so it’s hard to write, haha. i feel slightly rusty and as if this isn’t my best work but i hope it’s good enough, i’m treating it as a warm-up (?) of sorts, as i get back into my flow. a lot has been going on and a lot has happened in my life in the past few months, life-changing things and i’m just trying to navigate it all as well as tap into my creativity more frequently and freely again. thank you so much for reading, i deeply appreciate it and i hope you enjoy this quick read! <3

- linus

the dull buzz of the game console echoed off of the white walls of tomura's bedroom, the paint tinted with a soft blue hue alongside the posters which adorned them, due to the television. the soft knocks of the knobs on the controller among the gentle, yet frustrated, grunts that slipped past tomura's lips offering a comforting ambiance, something you'd grown quite used to.

a subtle scowl, of which you were sure he was unaware, sewing his features together as noctis' movements slowed down on the screen for the nth time, tomura shifting to zap him to the nearest warp point, prompto falling in the meantime, leaving the low hp duo of gladiolus and ignis amidst the chaos of battle. your gaze shifting between the screen, tomura, and the urgency of his thumbs as countless coeurl's shredded through his team, depleting their health further as tomura frantically distributed health potions to evade death.

rigid posture cushioned by an array of pillows, tomura's gaze remained fixed on the screen before him, eyes darting from the gameplay to the wavering health status of each member, concentrating deeply, a slight furrow in his brow. he sat upright, alert, on edge almost, in contrast to your laying form beside him, attempting to watch his gameplay earnestly, yet failing to do so.

with his over-washed, slightly faded band-tee riding up his torso, almost matching the one you'd currently adorned, having stolen it out of his closet earlier that day. the shoulder seams hanging slightly lower on your arms than they ever did his, the faint musky scent embedded within the threading, mixing with the wafting vanilla candle you had lit not too long ago, offering a sweet sense of solace. with the thin trail of hair peaking beneath his shirt, exposed by the sliver of skin that was on display, crawling beneath the hem of his underwear, you'd found it increasingly difficult to keep your eyes straight before you.

you loved watching tomura game, just as much as he loved watching you. sessions filled with giggles and exasperated sighs, pushing the controllers into each others hands once things got too frustrating, celebrating your joint wins with high-fives and gentle kisses. yet, your offer to take over had been declined this time around, tomura refusing to let his pride wane in the face of his third "game over" screen, a controlled sigh leaving his lips as he entered the bounty's vicinity once more, teeth gritted.

niveous tendrils framing his soft features, shaggy hair resting on the tense, slightly raised, muscles of his shoulders. tomura's skin was slightly illuminated amidst the dark surroundings, ruby gaze darting across the screen in focus. his grip on the controller tightening as he moved with fervour, jaw clenching. your sight trailing over his disgruntled form, a small smile playing on your lips at the display.

tomura had the unyielding tendency to get riled up whilst gaming, often vocal in his distresses and victories, his concentrated glare on the screen something you'd grown quite fond of, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, immersed.

fingers lifting, moving to tuck loose tendrils behind his ear, earning a soft smile from the other, his muscles seeming to ease up slightly at the subtle action. touch shifting toward his exposed skin, drawing shapes on the flesh of his abdomen as your lips met his neck, tomura's head cocking to the side, offering more access, a shaky breath leaving his lips. "you're distracting me, kid," voice laced with gravel, your lips grazed his ear and he could feel your smirk against him "would you like me to stop ?" words whispered, a kitten lick, the tip of your tongue gently dragging up the edge of his ear, goosebumps rising in response to your touch, breath offering warmth to his skin, "i never said that," through a controlled exhale, "just continue on for me, then, love," setting a gentle kiss to his cheek.

fingers inching beneath the fabric of his joggers, resting upon the cloth of his boxers, you began to palm his most sensitive part, lips moving against the rough skin of his neck delicately, offering pecks and soft suction, marking him, a sharp gasp leaving tomura's chest. motions slow, grating, softly chuckling as he spoke, "you know i hate teasing, baby," a small scoff, brows knitting, "you tease me all the time," you pushed, "that's different," shrugging, tone relaxed, "is not!" you retorted, "and you never let up, no matter how much i beg," lips curling in response to your pout saturated words, his gaze remaining locked onto the screen, "i don't beg, kid," a gentle shake of his head as he spoke.

your fingers moving to slip from beneath his clothing, his hand leaving the controller, flying to catch your wrist, slowly turning meeting your gaze. with a taunting a quirk in your brow, smirk sewing your features, you sat in wait, teeth chewing the inside of his cheek as he took a beat, sighing in defeat, "please, baby," the words dripping with plead, guiding your grip beneath the layer of his dampened underwear, pre-cum soaking through the thin fabric, the sweetly spoken words sweeping a rosy blush across his cheeks, "anything else ?" you teased, head cocking to the side, a small smile curling his lips at the prod, "thank you," your nose brushing past his with a small smile, setting a kiss to his lips as his gaze returned to the screen, unpausing, "you're lucky i'm nicer than you are," a chuckle leaving his lips, "aren't i just."

shifting his hips as you pulled down the constricting pieces of fabric, a sharp hiss slipping past his lips as your fingers grazed the tip of his hardened cock gently. collecting the nectar, you pressed them to his lips with a smile, following the actions he often displayed to you, tomura letting you set your digits on his tongue with a playful roll of the eyes, lapping at the liquid as you pulled them out with a sweet pop, "you're having too much fun," hitched breath cutting his words short as your fingers clasped around his length, pumping, a breathy moan all that he could manage. "you look so pretty like this, can you really blame me ?" whispering, tomura's skin burning as your lips grazed his ear, his mind whirring as the 'game over' screen's music echoed off of the walls. eyes squeezed shut, face contorting in bliss, a thin layer of sweat offering subtle highlights to his skin as you worked him, your thumb circling his tip, giving gentle squeezes.

"fuck, you made me die..." through a laugh, it soon morphing into a chesty groan, a lazy, open-mouthed smile on his lips, "there's no way i'll be able to beat this when you're-" setting a gentle kiss to his tip with a change in position, licking a ring around it, offering gentle circles around it with a curved tongue before slipping his length into your mouth. pulling out, your gaze locking with his once more, your hand continuing to stroke him, "when i'm what ?" tone innocent with a cocked head in question, legs swaying in his playful kicks behind you.

"god, you're so annoying sometimes," through a choked giggle, earning one in turn from you as you set sweet pecks on his length, tomura's alertness dwindling. his gaze failing to stay on the screen for longer than a second, entranced by your performance, dusty rose setting deeply in his cheeks as your eyes fluttered shut, a loose smile hung on your features as your lips worked him, setting gentle kisses and kitten licks to his cock, soft moans slipping past your lips, offering subtle vibrations to his length as you took him into your mouth.

his core tightening at the sight of you seemingly worshipping his cock, goosebumps trailing his skin as your head bobbed, suppressed groans escaping his lips as your throat relaxed, nose kissing his pelvis in chase of his melodic sounds. the muscle contracting around his length as you choked, fingernails digging into your palms as you held yourself in position, a flurry of moans soon escaping his lips in tow. head thrown back, hips staggering, bucking reflexively as his back arched off of the slew of pillows in which it rested upon.

pulling back, a thin string of saliva, the only connection between the two of you before your hands moved to work him once more, gaze lifting to meet the screen behind you before shifting to him. lust swimming within the fire in his eyes, hot embers offering licks under his hooded gaze, piercing your skin with desire. tousled shaggy hair sticking to his skin, lips parted, pants falling from them with each breath he took. the pit of your stomach contorting at the sight, a small whimper threatening to leave your throat under the harsh gaze, tomura's trance like state snapping under your hooked forefinger, directing his attention back to the screen before him, "noctis is dying," a small gasp as his thumbs moved once more, "fuck-" through a chuckle as he gave him another elixir, "too distracting ?" you questioned, words laced thickly with tease, as you set a soft kiss to his tip once more, earning a small smirk from the man, "not at all," sarcasm drenching the reply.

a giggle leaving your lips at the snide remark, your hand shifting his own, threading his fingers through your locks, guiding your mouth onto him once more. tomura's free hand shifting to pause the movement on the screen, hips bucking as your throat relaxed around him, a whisper of a whimper falling from his chest as his hips rolled, head dropping back against the pillows once more as he used you. movements slow, inching deeper and deeper down your throat before pulling just up to his tip, pushing your head down once more with fervour, repeating the movements over, growing desperate as he continued. sweet, chesty groans falling from his lips, choked and growing in volume as the coil in his stomach tightened, your face deepening in rose as oxygen evaded you, fists tight, eyes squeezed shut as he decorated your throat with pearl.

with matching pants, your gaze met once more, the sight of his breathy and fucked out form erupting butterflies within your stomach, tomura thumbing your bottom lip in wait, the pond of his seed within your mouth inciting a smile from the man, needing nothing but for your eyes to meet once more to recognise his desires, soon displaying your tongue after a swallow. tomura's hand remained tangled within your hair, pulling you closer as your lips interlocked, tasting remnants of himself on your tongue as your lips moved.

pulling away, lazy gaze raking over your features, your eyes filled with yearning, breaths intermingling as he smoothed a hand over your messy hair, "such a sweet girl," the soft words whispered, filled with praise as he tucked unruly strands behind your ear, rose dusting your cheeks, heart swelling as he spoke. shifting to lay you down against the pillows, "you wouldn't mind taking over for me, would you, baby ?" pushing the controller to your chest with a smirk, situating himself between your legs.

"you don't actually expect me to beat it, do you ?" brows knitting as the paused screen met you, "what, you don't think you can ?" teasing, setting a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "t-that's unfair," you pushed, a ghost of a pout, "what was it you said earlier about you being kinder than i am ?" chuckling, "but listen, i'll be nicer this time, yeah ? a reward is in store," the words convincing, "well, can i at least know what i'm working toward ?" eyes round, pleading as his fingers drew shapes on your skin, "cumming."

a sharp intake of breath, "you wouldn't..." brows knitting as your bottom lip jut out just so, "and why wouldn't i ?" a smirk curling his lips, teasing, "i hate edging and you know that..." your whines met with a shrug of his shoulders, "and i hate being teased, but here we are, love," a soft laugh, tomura setting encouraging pats to your outer thigh, "you oughta be more confident, kid," your silence erupting another giggle from the man, "what, you gonna call me mean ?" head cocking, teasing, pain pout decorating his lips, "no need to say it if you already know it," murmured words earning another laugh, "stop pouting and play the game, kid."

tomura's fingers inched beneath your shirt at the click of the unpause button, soon resting atop your bare chest. kneading the mound, squeezing harshly, earning a wince as he tugged at your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. his lips planting kisses between your thighs, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, leaving blossoming marks that matched his own.

tomura's stomach tightened, throat forming a lump at the sight of your underwear, the only bottoms you adorned beneath his oversized band tee. the dark patch of fabric clinging to your skin, outlining your folds with precision, the soaked cloth practically peeling away as he removed them. throwing your legs over his shoulders, hooded gaze flicking over to your frazzled form, shoulders tense as his nose dragged over your bundle of nerves ever so slowly, causing you to jerk slightly, swallowing a moan through a clenched jaw. "relax, baby," setting soothing strokes to your thigh, "and let me hear you."

pushing gentle kisses to your heat, curled tongue offering circular strokes, lips wrapping around your nub, adding the slightest bit of suction before pulling away with a wet pop. diving back in with laps, nose dragging your essence up and through your folds, his arms wrapping around your thighs, holding your shifty form in place as your thumbs moved against the controller, attempting to heal your team despite having only half the brain to pay attention.

tomura's head dipping lower, your gaze unable to stay on the screen as he made out with your most sensitive part, his eyes shut in bliss as he tongued your entrance, soft mewls escaping you at the act, the coil in your stomach tightening at the sight, tomura swiftly retracting at the dull hum of the 'game over' screen, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips at the act, head thrown back in defeat, earning a laugh from the man.

"fuck," through an exasperated breath, drawled out with a whine, earning a soft laugh from the man, "try again, love," your fingers shifting as you entered the bounty's vicinity once more, a ghost of a frown haunting your features. tomura's movements continued, earning somewhat of a cry as he slipped a finger in, your frazzled mind attempting to win as you haphazardly switched weapons, healing team members as best as you could, the coeurl's seemingly appearing in endless streams.

doubling the dosage, his fingers curled, hitting that spongey part that only he could ever reach, a sharp intake of breath was all you could muster as his thumb continued to stroke that sweet bundle of nerves, tomura peppering kisses along your thighs. a soft laugh leaving his lips as your hips began to roll, meeting his stride as moans sat heavy on your tongue, his mouth meeting your heat once more, the pace of his fingers quickening as he pumped you, your eyes squeezing shut as your walls squeezed around tomura's fingers and soon, nothing at all, eyes flying open with a frustrated whine.

"rules are rules, kid," offering soothing strokes to your stomach, a wicked glint in his eye, shrugging, "but it's just...it's hard when you're-" a smirk, "when i'm what ?" pitch high, tone mocking as his hands were on you again, resuming his prior movements, earning an eye roll and a disgruntled sigh, tomura laughing at that.

thumbs moving swiftly against the controller, you were down to one coeurl and fresh out of both potions and elixirs, heartbeat rising as noctis, the only moving member on your team, performed his warp attack, his health depleting rapidly. tomura's gaze shifting to the screen for but a moment, a soft smile on his face, "you're so close, kid, c'mon," he pushed, lips on you once more as you finished the last one off through gritted teeth, the controller soon hitting the bed with a bounce as you dropped it.

tomura allowing your fingers to thread through his locks as your hips rolled against his tongue with a fiery need, his fingers pumping you at an unforgiving pace. the coil in your stomach tightening for what seemed like the hundredth time, soon coming undone in waves, goosebumps rising on your skin as your body shook, a flurry of moans leaving your lips as tomura worked you through your high.

chest rising and falling, tomura hovered over you once more setting a soft kiss to your lips, "that's a good girl," lips grazing yours, "i think a bigger reward is in order, don't you ?" his hardened cock dragging between your folds, gaze hooded as he spoke, your eyes rounding with plead, "please..."

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

Y'know what would be cool?

If every member of the Justice League in a cinematic universe (animated or live-action) had a different instrument that was the primary in their theme song. Ideally something that makes sense for their characters or genre. So like Batman's theme could be really heavy on string instruments like violins, while Flash's theme might be defined by drums that change tempo to match his speed throughout the movie.

I don't really have a solid idea for what the other JL members' instruments would be. Maybe brass instruments like trumpets for Superman and woodwinds for Wonder Woman? Especially for Green Lantern, since that could depend on which one we're talking about. While it would make sense to just make one theme that plays for any member of the Corps, for Hal specifically I'm thinking electric guitar- I'll get back to why later

Anyway, a really neat idea would be if each individual member's theme song sounded almost incomplete or unbalanced by having one instrument dominate. Until the full Justice League comes together and then the various different instruments come together into a complete harmony. Hell, maybe the JL theme song is actually the different members' themes layered together (I have zero experience in music composition so idk if this is realistic), to really emphasize that they're meant to be a team

Going back to Hal's theme being electric guitar, imagine if the movies decided to go down the Emerald Twilight route. It'll probably never happen, but imagine.

In the crater where Coast City used to be, Hal mourns. In his grief, he uses his power to recreate the whole city and everyone in it, his theme song playing but with an acoustic guitar instead of electric and at a much slower pace. It cuts off abruptly when the Guardians reprimand him for using his power for personal desire and order him back to Oa. Hal takes off, his theme song once again played on the electric guitar. But this time, it's played on a minor key (assuming the normal version is on a major key), sounding discordant and wrong as Hal Jordan takes down his fellow Green Lanterns and is fully consumed by Parallax.

The minor key version essentially becomes Hal's theme as long as he's Parallax (and maybe the slowed acoustic one is his Spectre version). His original theme song isn't heard again until Rebirth comes around and Hal is freed from the parasite and resurrected.