#I want to be wrong but... these things just don't feel meant for me

[cherrybr4t]

pretty boys bring you to heaven - jeon wonwoo (m)

CONTENT WARNINGS: biker bf!wonwoo, jealous wonwoo (hehe.), SMUT!, unprotected p in v, oral (f rec), praise 😇, marking up (f rec), creampie, slightly possessive wonu, overused trope but! dom!wonwoo, sub fem!reader, kitchen counter sex 😔

WC: 2k

A/N: hello..fulfilling my inner teen wattpad days with a cliche scenario & trope. but. hot jealous biker bf wonwoo. one for me pls. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this 😔 (slightly inspired by real life events)

enjoy! <3

"sorry miss, excuse me... my friends and i were over there and we thought you were really pretty.. any chance we could get your digits?"

you were already freezing outside the izakaya restuarant, waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. said boyfriend was about 10 minutes late from the arranged timing.

mustering up the kindest smile you could in that condition, you waved a hand politely, "no thank you, i have a boyfriend." with a curt nod, you shifted about 5 inches to the side.

expecting the guy to take his leave, he offered a cynical chuckle on that scornful face instead.

"come on, it's just your number, hm?" he inched closer, waving his phone in your face.

scoffing, you turned to him, "i'm telling you, i have a boyfriend and he's about to be here any minute now so if i were you, i would walk away,"

"well, i don't see that boyfriend of yours anywhere baby, how 'bout you stop lying—"

"turn around," your eyebrows raised at the familiar deep timbre. you gulped, knowing that you tried to give that poor guy a small warning.

"ah," the guy turned around, took one look over before shaking his head. "didn't peg you for a pretty boy kinda girl babe, oh, and pretty boy rides," he mocked after seeing the sleek black helmet wonwoo was clutching onto.

“yeah? this pretty boy right here s’bout to turn you extra pretty with this helmet right here if you don’t step away from his girlfriend,”

you looked at your boyfriend, sharp eyes daggering through the man, knowing that he meant every word. wonwoo was a rather mellow person, but when things came down to it, you’ve seen first hand how it’s never good to rub him off in the wrong way.

with the exception of yourself, of course. you could do no wrong in your simp of a boyfriend’s eyes.

you felt your insides churn at how he stepped in with such a sinister glare. lips threatening to break into a giddy smile as you were feeling so in love with your boyfriend at the moment, as well as satisfied at how the man is now avoiding his gaze, slowly backing off.

“got it dude, chill out. s’not like i can’t find another one of these bitches out there,”

something in wonwoo snapped and he lunged forward, grabbing onto the man’s shirt with his precious helmet now dropped on the pavement.

“what did you fucking say?”

you decided it was time to step in, not wanting to cause any ruckus — you just wanted the night to be over and done with and to head home, tucked in with your boyfriend.

“alright alright, wonwoo, it’s fine let it go, he’s not worth the trouble,” you tugged onto wonwoo’s shirt, hand reaching up to massage his nape, calming him down.

wonwoo’s muscles relaxed immediately at your touch, before turning over to look at you. taking a few moments before deciding to let go —which was for the better because you knew that guy stood no chance against your hapkido black belt man.

wonwoo pushed him towards the road before grabbing onto your hand, chuckling once he saw that you’ve already picked up the helmet. you shrugged, holding onto him tighter before dragging him towards his bike.

“i’m sorry baby, this wouldn’t have happened if i got here on time.. i swear the traffic lights just weren’t in my favour today,” wonwoo cupped your face gently in his hands, pecking you gently on your lips.

“stop, this isn’t your fault wonwoo.. there’re always gonna be pesky rats out and about, plus i still remember some moves you taught me,” you got into your fight stance, flailing your arms while making exaggerated ‘hah’s.

wonwoo let out a chortle, before patting down your head, “good girl, but… i can tell you’re slightly pissed, you’re calling me wonwoo and not baby,” he wraps his arms around you, lowering his face to rub his obvious pout in your face.

“gosh you’re such a baby, baby.” you kissed his pout to which he gladly welcomed and engulfed you into an open mouth kiss, tightening his grip on you.

“that’s more like it baby, now let’s go home, need to keep my pretty baby out of these dangerous streets,”

wonwoo has you up on the counter back home, between your legs as he kisses you so fervidly while his hands grip onto your waist tightly. you rake your fingers on his nape and across his scalp as you deepen the kiss, tongue entering to find his.

his deep rumble of groans as you run your nails through his scalp has you clenching and you let out a small whimper mid-kiss. he pulls apart and stares at you.

“my pretty baby, so fucking beautiful you got all these men thinking they’ve got a shot,” he groans as he peppers small kisses along your jawline.

“til they find out that you’re mine, hm? not a fucking chance,” he follows through, kissing his way down your neck, stopping at your sweet spot he knows all too well, and starts sucking lightly.

you let out a full fledged moan at this point, head tilting back – unable to control how your boyfriend makes you deranged just by a few kisses.

“wonwoo…” you whine.

“yes baby? needa mark you up all prettily so no one else dares to even make a move hm? all mine mine mine,” he goes down on the same spot, sucking harshly with a few bites before smoothing it over with his tongue. you squeak out in pleasure, loving how his tongue feels so strong yet so good against that bruised spot.

“i'm all yours baby, l-let them all know who i belong to,” you beg, wanting to feel his mouth all over your body, not wanting him to miss any spot.

wonwoo moves on to his next spot, sucking, biting and soothing. you feel so giddy, totally missing his hand creeping towards your core, until you feel him directly palming your cunt aggressively – and you realise just how soaked you are when you feel your panties stick to your cunt.

“fuuck baby, you’re soaking through your fucking pants fuck,” wonwoo pants, inner fire growing stronger seeing how you react to him marking you up. he hastily removes your pants and kicks them aside, licking his lips subtly at the sight of your drenched cunt through your thin panties.

“wo-baby, do something, please,” you grab at nothing desperately on the counter, needing him to do something to release the tension in your core that’s been growing – you feel the need to rub against air.

“yeah? whatever my pretty baby wants,” he starts rubbing on your clothed cunt, before pushing the destroyed fabric aside, fingers soaking in your juices as he plays with your folds.

his other hand grabs onto your jaw forcing you to look at him, “open up,” he whispers before taking his fingers out of your cunt to stuff them into your mouth. you moan at the taste of yourself, eyes fluttering shut.

“so fucking delicious aren’t you,”

he spreads your legs wider before ripping your panties off. getting onto his knees, he positions his face directly in front of your cunt before going in straight and kissing your growing bud.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you scream out as you feel him start to suckle on your swollen bud, before leaving kisses over your folds. he sticks his tongue out, teasing over them before going in through layers of your folds.

“wonwoo!” moaning out your boyfriends name with a cracked voice, you thrust your hips in his face, craving more.

“as always, fucking sweet and fucking delicious, god,” he moans into your cunt, looking like a starved man as he eats and laps at your cunt so ravenously.

he grabs onto your thighs, forcing them to stay apart as he continues diving deeper into your sweet cunt, that tall nose of his hitting the right spot, rubbing against your bundle of nerves at a consistent pace.

“w-wonwoo, i’m gonna cum, gonna cum, wanna cum c-can i,” you cry out, feeling the gates of your dam about to break open any time.

wonwoo looks up you, half-lidded and lustful gaze as he urges you, "cum baby, cum all over my face fuck, need you to,"

few seconds after, you grab onto wonwoo’s hair as you feel the last string break, feeling of numbness engulfing your whole as you feel all the tension pump out of you. pulling his locks as you release your juices, moaning out his name like a mantra as you came, and you feel like you've been to heaven and back.

wonwoo doesn’t stop, and continues drinking in all of you – every last drop of your release. you pushed his head away due to oversensitivity, and wonwoo stands up chuckling.

“you make the prettiest sounds when you cum for me baby, can you do it again for me?” wonwoo coos, and kisses your forehead, slowly removing the remaining articles of clothing between the both of you.

“only if i get to cum around your cock this time,” you shot back lazily, eyes still hazy and drunk on your previous orgasm, yet still greedy for wonwoo’s cock. always greedy for more of him.

“of course baby, gotta feed this pussy more of my cock and my cum to remind who it belongs to, hm?” he turns you around before bending you over the counter. you smirk, heart palpitating at being manhandled to one of your favourite positions.

wonwoo glides his hands down your spine, caressing your cheeks, playing with them before slapping his pink and bulging tip on them.

“perfect ass, perfect tits, perfect everything, my fucking perfect baby, you were made for me and only me,” wonwoo moans out, letting his tip drench in your juices along your folds.

“mm wonwoo, baby, put it in, please,” you wiggle your hips backwards, and after a few more slaps against your cunt, he finally slides his tip in, causing you to gasp and fall forward onto the counter more.

you feel your walls constrict and expand aggressively, trying to suck your boyfriends length in inch by inch desperately.

wonwoo has a hand wrapped around your waist as he slides his full length in, both of you releasing the airiest moan once feeling each other on every nerve ending.

wonwoo starts to find a rhythm, hips thrusting so deep in you feel his tip hitting your cervix so comfortably and so fully every thrust you can’t help but scream out every time his tip nudges against that spot.

“so fucking good, cunt was made for me baby, making me see stars and shit,” wonwoo rasps out, panting as he struggles to formulate a sentence without breaking into moans.

“nngh, it feels so good wonwoo, so big, s-so good,” you were mind-fucked. having his cock in you deduced your brain to having no thoughts but him. crying out for him with no other care in this world.

“my pretty baby, wanna see you cum for me again, need to feel you cum around my cock for me, can–ah fuck–can you do that for me?” with an arm around you playing with your tits, and another arm suddenly reaching towards your exposed and swollen bud, you feel all hairs stand and being the most stimulated you’ve ever been.

“argh! wonwoo.. fuck,” you wail out his name, feeling so close to that eureka moment once again as your boyfriend rubs sloppy yet tight circles around your clit.

“mm baby, its okay, just cum for me hm? come on, cum around your cock, cum for me, cum cum,”

with him voicing his encouragements right behind you, you feel your abdomen reach its tightest point, before you feel the tipping point pour over, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over you, trembling underneath your boyfriend. squeezing the life out of his cock, you hear him groan.

“good girl, fuck, so fucking good, gonna cum for you now baby,”

soon after your release, you feel wonwoo’s body lurch and fall atop yours as his cum fills you up to the brim, and you moan at the warm liquid blanketing your cunt and its walls.

wonwoo steps back to admire his cum dripping out of your swollen cunt for a good minute, before you whine out for him - needing your after-fuck hugs and kisses.

he obliges, but whispers as he nibbles on your ear lobe, "don't think i'm done with you yet baby, you've got a loooong night ahead of you,"

a/n: hit the reblog if you've enjoyed this my loves! thank you so much for reading <3 sending love and kisses to everyone!

[just-sg]

"If I ever do anything to upset you, please just let me know! I can't fix what I don't realize is happening!"

"^w^ Oh of course! I'm sure it won't be any trouble though!"

[...]

":/ Hey so everyone's been talking and we agree you're really insufferable and we don't want you around anymore. Here's a long list of things we've never mentioned having a problem with until right now. Anyway goodbye forever."

"Cool so this is literally exactly the kind of thing I was talking about but thanks for being jackasses incapable of communicating literally at all. 👍"

Also always fun:

"I shouldn't have to explain to you what I found rude, you should know." Cool. Even if it was true that I should, I don't know! So that "should" isn't really irrelevant, is it. Also have you considered that your experiences are not universal actually and what some people consider friendly is deeply offensive to others and vice versa and that expecting everyone to read your mind about your own personal culture and experiences and preferences helps literally no one?

"Maybe you should actually think about what you say." Funny story, I overthink everything at all times. I constantly delete over half of what I type and rewrite the rest numerous times to try to be as gentle as possible while still conveying my own feelings even a tiny bit and apparently even that's too much for people. I go non-verbal under stress in part because I'm terrified of saying anything wrong; unlike typing, I only get one chance to say it, most people won't let you say "no, that's not what I meant." Clearly anything you say mid-meltdown is eternally binding and the truest reflection of everything about you.

And many more.

Every one of these has happened numerous times. But you know. Autistics are bad at communication. For... -checks notes-... wanting it to be clear, direct, and specific. Idk man I feel like maybe being allergic to just speaking openly even when directly requested isn't exactly the pinnacle of communication skill either but who knows.

a bottom-tier autistic experience is being told throughout your entire childhood that you are just an overthinker when it comes to social situations and later finding out that your friends did, in fact, hate being around you and tried to communicate that through weird little hints

[luvst4rc0r3]

LITTLE DARK BUT jinx x reader following the pregnancy but reader miscarries (maybe the zaun conditions or just overall stress idk) but yeah

OMG, I actually love this request. It was interesting to make.

"I don't want to be here anymore"

Jinx x Pregnant!Reader

WARNINGS: MISCARRIAGE!!!!!! If you do not like that then please leave.

WC: 2106

NOTE: set in Arcane Season 2, Episode 3. This is kinda a follow up from my post "Two pink lines"

PT.2

Jinx had never been good at sitting still.

She was always moving, always fidgeting—hands twitching, foot tapping, mind racing. The quiet got too loud otherwise, and she didn’t like what it had to say.

But now?

Now, she wished the world would stop moving.

She wished you would stop moving.

Your hands rested on your belly, rubbing circles into the stretched fabric of your shirt, as if you were already comforting the tiny life inside you. Jinx’s fingers twitched, her chest tightening as she sat on the edge of the bed, watching.

It still didn’t feel real.

Not the baby. Not you.

Not the way you looked at her like she wasn’t broken, like she wasn’t dangerous.

Like she was something worth loving.

You turned to her then, smiling so soft, so easy, like you weren’t carrying something that could change everything. “Jinx, baby, you’re staring again.”

Jinx blinked, realizing she had been, and forced a smirk. “Can ya blame me?” She flopped onto her side, propping her chin on her hand. “You’re all glow-y and shit. Kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to get used to it.” You gestured to your belly. “It’s only gonna get bigger.”

Jinx’s stomach did something weird then—something she couldn’t name, something that made her fingers tingle and her heart race.

She reached out, hesitating for half a second before laying her hand over yours.

“I like ya like this,” she murmured, voice quieter than she meant it to be. “Like… ours.”

You covered her hand with both of yours, holding tight. “We are.”

Jinx swallowed hard, something like panic rising in her throat. She covered it with a laugh, sharp and teasing. “��Course, now I gotta make sure you don’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble. Wouldn’t want ya droppin’ my kid in some sketchy alleyway, yeah?”

“Oh, so now it’s your kid?”

Jinx grinned. “Yeah, and it’s already cooler than any kid.”

You snorted. “Jinx—”

“No, listen, it’s got me as a mom. That’s an automatic win.”

Your laughter was the best sound in the world, and Jinx clung to it like a lifeline. She didn’t tell you how scared she was.

How the idea of loving something this much terrified her.

How she wasn’t sure she could survive losing it.

ׄ   𓂂    ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ઉ⠀⠀𓂂   ׄ  

Jinx knew something was wrong the second the air shifted.

Her grip on your hand tightened, sharp eyes flicking up toward the vents lining the alley. She didn’t like being out here—too many people, too many ways for things to go sideways—but you had begged. Just a quick trip, you had said.

And Jinx?

She couldn’t say no to you.

She never could.

But now—

Now the air was wrong.

Then you coughed.

Jinx’s head snapped to you, eyes wide as you hunched over, gripping your stomach.

And then—

Then you collapsed.

“No—no, no, no, NO!”

Jinx was on her knees before she even realized she had moved, hands grabbing at you, gripping, shaking—too limp, too pale, too quiet—

The air smelled wrong. Thick. Chemical.

Jinx’s blood ran cold.

She knew this smell.

Shimmer.

No—no, not Shimmer. Something worse.

Something new.

Her heart pounded as she looked up, and she saw it.

Green gas, curling from the vents, creeping along the streets. People were dropping like flies, bodies hitting the pavement, gasping, choking, some not moving at all.

Jinx barely heard the orders being shouted.

The Enforcers.

She saw the uniforms. The guns. The masks.

And in front of them—

A familiar figure.

Vi.

Jinx’s stomach dropped.

Vi did this?

Something sharp and white-hot exploded in her chest, mixing with panic, with fury, with something so deeply broken she couldn’t name it.

Vi—her sister—the one who had promised to keep her safe many years ago, the one who had left—

She had done this.

Jinx barely had time to process it.

Because you?

You weren’t moving.

She snapped back to you, hands shaking as she grabbed your face, tilting it toward her. “Baby—hey, hey, stay with me, okay? Look at me, c’mon, please—”

Your eyelids fluttered. Your mouth opened, but no words came.

Then your body seized.

Jinx’s breath caught.

Her world cracked.

“No—”

She scooped you up, legs already running, ignoring the Enforcers, ignoring the gunfire—she didn’t have time for this, she didn’t have time—

She had to get you out.

Had to get you safe.

She didn’t care that she was bleeding. Didn’t care that she could hear Vi shouting something behind her.

Didn’t care that the green smoke was still in her lungs.

She ran.

ׄ   𓂂    ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ઉ⠀⠀𓂂   ׄ  

Jinx had never known silence could be so loud.

The room was spinning, her chest heaving, her fingers numb.

You lay in the bed beside her, so still, so pale, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

She had done everything she could—cleaned you up, wiped the sweat from your forehead, whispered frantic reassurances into your skin.

But nothing changed the fact that when you finally spoke, your voice was broken.

“Jinx…”

She was on you in an instant, hands gripping yours, her face so open, so raw with desperation. “I’m here—I’m right here, baby—”

Your fingers curled weakly around hers.

The world outside didn’t matter. The pain, the fear, the horror of what had happened—it all blurred into nothing as she kept you pressed against her, her fingers tangled in your hair, her lips whispering shaky reassurances against your skin.

She didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to take away the fear in your eyes, the tremble in your hands, the way you kept pressing against your belly like you were waiting for something—anything—to tell you everything was okay.

But then—

You inhaled sharply.

Jinx’s grip on you tightened. “Baby?”

Your eyes widened. Your fingers twitched.

And then—

A kick.

Barely there. Faint. Soft.

But real.

Your breath caught in your throat. Tears welled in your eyes, but this time.

This time, they weren’t from fear.

Jinx sucked in a shaky breath, her hands flying to your belly, pressing down gently, waiting, praying—

And then it happened again.

A flutter.

A sign of life.

Jinx let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, her forehead pressing against yours, her entire body shaking.

You let out a choked little giggle, covering your mouth, tears slipping down your cheeks. “They’re okay,” you whispered. “Oh my God, Jinx, they’re okay.”

Jinx could barely breathe past the lump in her throat.

She didn’t know how.

Didn’t know how to process the sheer relief, the overwhelming love, the way she had never felt more terrified and more alive all at once.

So she just kissed you.

Hard. Desperate. Like she was still trying to convince herself you were real.

When she pulled away, her voice was hoarse, her eyes burning.

“You scared the shit outta me.”

You sniffled, laughing weakly. “I scared myself.”

Jinx let out a breathy chuckle, her forehead knocking against yours. “Yeah, well… don’t do it again.”

You wrapped your arms around her, burying yourself into her warmth, into her safety.

And for the first time since the gas—

Since the panic, the pain, the unknown

It felt like maybe, just maybe—

Everything would be okay

ׄ   𓂂    ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ઉ⠀⠀𓂂   ׄ  

Jinx had never been good at feeling safe.

Not really.

But when you were around—when your fingers brushed through her hair, when your lips pressed against her forehead, when your hands cradled the small swell of your stomach—it felt close enough.

She could almost pretend that nothing bad would happen.

That you’d both get to be happy.

That your baby—her baby—would get to have the life neither of you had.

She let herself believe it.

Let herself dream of it.

Let herself think—just for a second—that she wasn’t cursed.

That she wasn’t meant to lose everything she loved.

ׄ   𓂂    ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ  ⠀⠀⠀ઉ⠀⠀𓂂   ׄ  

Jinx woke up to silence.

Not the kind that meant safety. Not the kind that came after a long day, curled up beside you, tracing patterns on your skin.

The kind that made her stomach twist.

The kind that meant something was wrong.

She reached for you—only to find the bed cold.

Her breath caught.

Then she heard it.

A sound so quiet, so broken, that it made her heart stop.

A gasp.

A choked sob.

Coming from the bathroom.

Jinx was on her feet before she even realized she was moving.

The door was locked.

“Baby?” Her voice was tight, shaking, already knowing—already knowing.

No response.

Another sob.

Jinx’s chest squeezed.

“Hey, c’mon—open up,” she tried again, knocking harder. “You’re scarin’ me.”

Still, nothing.

Just more crying.

Then—

A whimper.

So soft, so weak.

Jinx’s stomach dropped.

She kicked the door open.

And what she saw—

The world stopped.

You were on the floor, crumpled, half-clothed, knees pulled to your chest.

Your hands—covered in blood.

The floor—covered in blood.

So much of it.

So much.

Jinx’s breath hitched, her heart slamming against her ribs, her whole body locking up—

Then you looked at her.

And it broke her.

Your lips trembled. Your chin wobbled.

And then, barely above a whisper, voice cracking—

“Why is there so much blood?”

Jinx couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

You were shaking, staring down at yourself, hands smeared with red, fingers twitching like you were trying to understand—like you were still waiting to feel something move inside you.

Jinx fell to her knees.

“Baby—”

Your breath hitched.

Your body jerked forward, arms wrapping around yourself, fingers digging into your skin like you could hold yourself together if you just tried hard enough.

Then, the realization hit.

Jinx saw it happen.

The exact second your entire world broke.

Your whole body tensed.

Your lips parted.

Your eyes filled with tears.

Then—

A sob.

Loud. Choking.

You gasped, hands shaking violently as you reached down, pressing against your stomach—searching, begging, desperate to feel something.

But there was nothing.

Nothing.

And that was when you screamed.

Jinx felt something in her shatter.

You clawed at your belly, fingers curling into the blood-stained fabric of your shirt, pulling, gripping, gasping—like if you just held tight enough, you could keep what was already gone.

“No—no, no, no, no—”

Jinx grabbed you.

Held you.

Tried to make herself real.

Tried to keep you from slipping away.

But you thrashed against her, sobbing so violently that you couldn’t breathe.

“It’s gone,” you choked.

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut. “Baby, please—”

“It’s gone,” you sobbed harder, chest heaving, fists pounding against her.

She took it.

Took every hit, every cry, every shattered plea, because she deserved it.

Because it was her fault.

Because she should have stopped you from going out.

Because she should have noticed something was wrong.

Because she should have protected you.

Because she should have saved them.

Because the baby—your baby, her baby— was now gone

Your body collapsed against hers, trembling, arms wrapping around her so tight, like you were trying to crawl inside her, disappear inside her, be anywhere but here.

Jinx rocked you, held you, kissed your temple, muttering, pleading, whispering how sorry she was.

But sorry wasn’t enough.

Sorry wouldn’t bring them back.

Sorry wouldn’t stop the way you sobbed into her shirt, fingers gripping her so hard it hurt.

Sorry wouldn’t stop the way your voice broke when you whimpered,

"I don't want to be here anymore"

Jinx froze.

Her grip on you tightened, breath shuddering, heart slamming against her ribs.

“No,” she whispered, voice barely holding together.

You buried your face in her chest, crying so softly now, so defeated, like something inside you had finally given up.

Jinx pressed her lips to your forehead, eyes burning.

“No, baby,” she choked, voice cracking. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

But you just curled deeper into her arms, breath ragged, body wrecked with grief.

Jinx held you like she could keep you here.

Like she could stop you from slipping away.

Like she could pretend that when you finally stopped crying, when you finally fell into an exhausted, hollow sleep, that everything would go back to the way it was.

But it wouldn’t.

It never would.

Jinx knew that now.

Because the worst part?

The part she couldn’t say out loud?

She didn’t know if she had lost just the baby.

Or if she was losing you too.

not my usual content

I want food

[forgotteneffigy]

Promise

⋆ kento nanami x coworker!reader - the prologue!? ⋆

word count : 1k+ ⋆₊˚⊹

before you read : mentions of character death, spoilers for jjk inventory arc. you have been warned. enjoy this little piece of teen!nanami x reader angst! ^_^

“What did you do with your first paycheck, Nanami?”

Your words drown out the liveliness around you, the sounds of children laughing as they played with their food and the worries of the doting mothers next to them deafened by your question.

The way you looked at him with those eyes of yours. The way you said his name like you've known him for years, years that exceeded your recent transfer to Tokyo's jujutsu high.

The smell of baked goods and hot coffee wafts through the air as Nanami considers your question.

“I can't remember.” He initially replies, looking off to the side.

With some thought behind it, he adds in, “I put it into my savings account, I think.”

The way you tilted your head at his answer makes him believe you wanted to hear him say something more interesting. What else was there to say?

You half-expected his answer, but you said what you were thinking anyway.

Your eyebrows knit together as you reply. “That's so boring, Nanami.”

You place your hand under your chin. With your other hand, you stir the spoon in your cup of morning caffeine.

“Wanna know what I'm going to get with mine, Nanam?”

You don't bother to hear his confirmation. You smile wide as you speak, Nanami looks at you as if trying to commit the way you looked to memory.

“Once I get my first paycheck,” you continue to smile, looking down at the table. “I'm getting us a cake to celebrate. Savarin cake!” You declare loudly, sounding quite sure of yourself and your success on your first independent mission.

You look back with a spark of determination in your eyes.

“A big one.”

You point the silverware at him, his reflection warbled in the spoon.

“A big one, hm?” He repeats.

“Just for you and me.” You add with a sure nod, pointing at yourself before dropping the utensil into your cup.

“It's a little too early to be thinking about sweets, isn't it?” He asks, chuckling quietly at your determination.

Even when you pointed a spoon at him to prove your promise to him, vowing with the silverware to share a slice of cake bought with your first paycheck.

“It's never too early to be thinking about sweets, Nanami.” You reply, the side of your shoe grazing against his own. The casual show of affection makes him look down, your shoe next to his under the table. “Gojo's not the one making you say that, I hope.”

You laugh at his words, your hand migrating from your cheek to your mouth to muffle your chuckles.

“Gojo can't make me do shit, Nanami.”

The boldness in your reply makes Nanami question his own doubts and worries about you coming back from your mission safely.

“Just come back to me in one piece, please.” He says, tone almost pleading as he places his hand on the table.

Close enough to touch yours, but far enough to only feel your warmth.

“That's all I ask of you, (L/N). Come back alive.”

He doesn't want to acknowledge it, but there's more than just care meant for a fellow sorcerer behind his words.

You were his partner. And he didn't want to lose you.

He didn't want you to become another face in a pile of corpses in an abandoned strip of Tokyo's city.

“Just..” Nanami pauses, trailing off. He had to tread carefully now, knowing that if he said the wrong thing, you'd leave thinking about what he said.

“Promise me you won't do anything stupid.” He wasn't asking you to. He was telling you to.

Nanami hopes you had enough common sense in that head of yours to know that.

“People die in our line of work all the time. You know, they say sorcerers…” He doesn't hear the rest of what you said after, his mind focusing on how you brushed off his concern.

Nanami stiffens in his chair. He didn't like how flippant your response was, and he didn't like the carefree smile you put on after.

“Even though. Despite that fact. Please, (L/N).”

His eyes soften when they land on you again. The lively surroundings around him blur when he focuses on you.

He didn't want to see you on a mortuary table, your body dressed in white with a towel covering your face. He hated how vividly he could imagine it in his head.

He didn't want you to end up like Haibara. Taken away from him too soon. It all happened so fast.

In a blink of an eye, you could be taken away from him.

One wrong step. One miscalculation in the usage of your abilities, and you'd be taken away from him in an instant.

He was more attached to you than he thought.

Nanami's too deep in his own head to notice the way you casually brushed the hair out of his face. Blond strands no longer hiding the softness in his eyes.

He only registers your touch when you pull away, your finger pointed at him with a reassuring smile.

You smile widely at him.

“You worry too much, Nanami.”

He still remembers the way your lips moved as the unassuming black sedan pulled away from the bakery parking, a piece of you in between his fingers.

He sits there quietly, looking at the uniform button in his hand. You told him not to worry, even joked about it to make him feel better. You gave him your uniform button without thinking much about the implications behind it.

You were an idiot. His idiot.

His grip on the button tightens, the pad of his thumb pressing into the circular indent in the middle.

“You cocky idiot..” He murmurs in between his teeth,

“You better not die on me.”

You're already gone, far away. The car you went in probably on the highway by now.

Nanami doesn't know what he's doing. He slips the button into his pocket, feeling its shape to make sure it's still there.

He doesn't know why he has this... feeling in his chest that he can't quite place.

He can't imagine a world without you, and he doesn't want to.

⋆ part two is coming soon to bakeries near you !!

[thewistlingbadger]

In the law, there is a difference between being innocent and being not guilty. In the law, just because you are not guilty does not mean you are innocent. And I honestly can't think of a better way to describe Silco.

Silco is not an innocent man, but that does not mean he is a guilty man. I'll say that again: Silco is not an innocent man but that doesn't mean he's a guilty man. I believe Silco is a not guilty man and let me briefly explain why.

Silco has done bad things. Silco has done things some deem unforgivable and scornful. Silco has done things that have harmed people and have given many reason to hate him. But I don't think he is a guilty man. Because every action that Silco has ever committed has had a justified, logical, dare I say valid reason attached to it.

The narrative of arcane is interesting because it is a show that aims for "moral grayness" while also being a show that still commits to classic story structure. We're supposed to think of everyone as nuanced, quote "there are no innocents in arcane everyone does good and bad things"...but at the same time silco and ambessa bad vi and Caitlyn good. Blindly good. So good that we don't HAVE to examine their flaws that's not what the writers want and they also don't want us to examine the goods of Silco and ambessa.

Silco from the jump IS the antagonist IS the villain. With his menacing appearance, threatening dialogue, menacing behavior, etc etc. I'm currently fascinated with Silco's cold open flashback for E3 s1 because it is directly showing us that Silco is a Victim but it isn't framed like that and it doesn't feel like that at all when we watch it, even though that's exactly what it is. There's never a moment where we feel like Silco is a victim in the show, or even a moment where we as a whole are particularly meant to feel bad for him. Even in his death, the audience is more worried about Jinx than they are about Silco, who literally has blood dripping out of his mouth as he speaks his last words.

We're never supposed to see the "good" in Silco like how we're meant to see the "good" in Jinx, even though she's committed crimes on the same level as he has arguably. The only moments where our perception of him changes are those moments where he's with Jinx and he acts fatherly towards her.

But now that we have season two I want you to stop and genuinely ask yourself the following. Is Silco really wrong for wanting Vander dead? Is Silco really wrong for doing whatever it takes to achieve independence? Was Silco wrong to be cold and brutal? Silco did things that were wrong, but that doesn't mean he was wrong. In fact, I'm saying I think he wasn't wrong.

I watched this Silco video essay last year that was really enlightening and I want to share a quote that came out of that video essay.

"Terrorism is a poor man's war."

And man, ain't that the truth. Only people who have nothing else to resort to resort to terrorism and crime and all these other terrible things. Oftentimes I see people who genuinely hate silco. I must remind each and every one of you that Silco wouldn't have done the things he did had it not been for the council. Had the council done their jobs, supported the Undercity, ensured it was a livable place, then Silco would have never had any motive to do the things he did. Silco's misdeeds are an extension of the council's crimes. If the council did what they were supposed to do, Silco would have never gotten to power, let alone used it at the expense of others. Silco's actions are the result of Piltover's inaction. Everything could have been easily avoided had they just taken care of their own citizens or gave them independence THE FIRST TIME THEY ASKED FOR IT. Because THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME IT HAS BEEN ASKED FOR. THERE WAS A ZAUN LIBERATION MOVEMENT YEARS BEFORE ARCANE. And what was Piltover's response? They broke the movement apart by violence. They killed people left right and center. Silco had every right to react that way he did after everything Piltover has put him through.

And Vander? Vander, the man who betrayed his own brother for the world's shittiest reason and gave no valid apology? Vander, the coward who refused to fight for his people even when he saw the way piltover was impacting them, the man who gave up on independence the moment they received heavy losses? The fate Vander received was nothing short of justice. He deserved what he got, dare I say he deserved worse. Not only did he give up on the movement but he gave up on Silco. He drowned him in a river of toxic waste and cut his face so bad that Silco became unrecognizable. MIND YOU, when Silco reunited with him, he wanted to be his BROTHER again. Silco's plan wasn't to get rid of Vander, it was to join him again, for them to fight for freedom one last time. Vander knew what the consequences would be for denying Silco and he chose to deny him anyway.

Is this a silco defense post? Yeah, but not in the "Silco did nothing wrong" way. Silco did horrible things for solid reasons. Everything he did had purpose and reason behind it. Not only that but his actions yielded results that he wanted, results that no one else was able to achieve. And everyday I want you to remember that without Silco, Sevika would have never gotten that council seat.

[jcollinswrites]

I'm the anon that sent the period ask.

Honestly, I didn't expect such backlash? Maybe I worded it wrong, but I was talking about what they would do for the MC. Like fuss over her and make sure she has everything she needs and comfort her in their own way. If you didn't want to answer the ask, you could have said so without making fun of it. I saw this ask in some other IFs and thought about asking, but as I said, maybe I worded it wrong. It's alright. No hard feelings. I understand.

I'm sorry, what?

You wanted to know how the ROs would comfort an MC on her period and instead you asked, and I'm quoting:

Let me ask the MEN,how would they react seeing a period blood strain on the F!MC's butt ?

?

I don't understand the mental gymnastics one needs to do in order to connect these two. If other authors can do that, well, good for them. I can't. To be frank though, I can very well imagine that the original asker (not you, obviously) DID mean what I thought it meant, and the first author who answered just assumed it was something more innocent, when actually, it was not. But, honestly... when you look at this question... what's the first thing that comes to mind? Because for me, it's all those stupid ignorant mf's who are grossed out by girls being on their periods. I'm glad that's not what you meant, and I also tried to answer the original question in good faith, but this ask is not worded in a positive way.

Also, I wasn't making fun of the question. I was completely serious. If anyone reacts in any way (other than being helpful) to a woman being on her period THAT MAN IS AN IGNORANT FOOL AND GIRLS, YOU SHOULD DUMP HIS ASS. But at the very least, that man needs some serious education.

Anyway, thanks for clarifying. The other question indeed sounds very different, and if you still want to know the answer, then here it is:

It depends on the MC. Because not everyone has bad periods. For some girls, it's horrible, for some, it's not that bad. The guys should know their girlfriends at this point, and they should know how to comfort them. There is no cure-it-all. They will all try to be helpful if MC needs it.

Sorry other messages in my inbox. I pulled this to the front because I was completely BAFFLED

[hishumanbellestories]

First kiss, but nothing serious.

I wanted something about the first kiss between Alastor and Deborah, I let myself go with the feelings, sweet and pathetic. 🫠

The air crackled between you like the charged silence before a storm. It had always been this way with Alastor — his presence was a static hum in your bones, an unseen force twisting the world around him. And yet, you were drawn to it, to him.

He grinned, as he always did; that sharp, ever-present smile that seemed more a mask than an expression. But his eyes — deep, endless red — lingered too long tonight, watching you as if there was something he couldn’t quite place.

«You do enjoy testing your luck, my dear», he said, voice syrupy smooth, but there was something else beneath it. Something unsettled.

You tilted your head, challenging him with nothing but a look.

«And you enjoy pretending you don't care».

For once, he didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he took a step closer, the space between you vanishing like smoke. His gloved hand reached out, hovering just near your cheek, fingers twitching as if fighting the impulse to touch you.

«You make the most dangerous assumptions», he murmured, and his voice was softer now, almost uncertain.

A rare thing.

You could feel his breath, though he didn’t need to breathe; could feel the static between you tightening like a wire pulled taut.

You knew Alastor — knew the way he toyed with the world, with people, but this wasn’t a game, was it?

The moment stretched, a delicate thread of something unnamed. Then, without thought, without fear, you closed the distance, placing your soft lips against his, just to spite him, and ruin his "I've got it all under control" ways.

The kiss was not meant to be anything but a test — chaste, fleeting. But the moment your lips brushed his, a current surged between you, sharp and consuming.

His entire body stiffened, and for a single, breathless second, the ever-present grin faltered. Then, just as quickly, it was back.

He pulled away, laughter bubbling up, but there was something wrong with it — too high, too forced — control slipped from his hands, causing the world to collapse beneath his feet.

«My, my, what a bold little thing you are!», he took a step back, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his face before his mask slammed firmly back into place. «Careful, darling. You wouldn’t want to start something you can’t handle.»

But you saw it.

The way his hands trembled ever so slightly.

The way his grin no longer reached his eyes.

He didn’t know what this was.

And that...

Terrified him.

For the first time, you saw Alastor shaken. It wasn’t much — just a tremor in his fingers, a flicker of something too raw in his eyes before he forced it back into that gleeful, manic mask. But you saw it. And he knew you did.

He recovered fast, of course. Spun on his heel like nothing had happened, hands slipping into his pockets as he whistled some old radio tune, his voice bright, careless. Too careless.

«Well, well! That was unexpected! Can’t say I planned for a lady such as yourself to be so…», his grin sharpened, «forward».

You crossed your arms, tilting your head.

«It was just a kiss, Alastor».

He stopped.

Just for a second.

Barely noticeable, but you caught it.

He turned to you, that ever-present amusement still there, but something lurked beneath it, something restless.

«Just a kiss?», he repeated it like the words were foreign on his tongue. He took a step toward you, then another, the distance between you vanishing once more.

He didn’t touch you, but you felt him all the same, the crackle in the air thick enough to choke on.

His voice dipped lower, softer, almost dangerous in its curiosity.

«Tell me, my dear… was that just a kiss to you?»

You held his gaze, refusing to flinch.

«I don’t know yet».

His grin widened, but his fingers twitched at his sides. That was new. Alastor never hesitated. He never second-guessed himself. But right now, he was doing both.

For a man who delighted in control, in knowing the game before it was played, this uncertainty was driving him mad.

The silence between you stretched, thick with something unsaid, something unacknowledged. You could see it in his eyes — the war raging inside him.

Then, suddenly, the tension snapped. He laughed. Loud, sharp, as if trying to shatter whatever had settled between you. With a theatrical flourish, he stepped back, hands thrown up as if waving off the entire moment.

«Well! That was certainly entertaining!», his voice was back to its usual, sing-song charm, but there was something off about it. «But really, darling, if you were expecting a fairytale romance, I’m afraid you’ll have to find some other poor fool for that!»

He winked, as if that sealed it, as if he hadn’t just been shaken to his very core.

You didn’t argue. Didn’t push. You just smiled.

«Who said anything about a romantic fairy tale?», you teased.

Because you knew.

He was running.

And one day, he’d realize there was nowhere left to hide.

Alastor kept his distance after that night.

Not in an obvious way — no, he was far too cunning for that. He still laughed with you, still appeared at your side with a flourish and a grin, still teased you like nothing had changed.

But it had.

You saw it in the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his hands would twitch when he got too close, the way his smile would slip — only for a fraction of a moment — whenever you so much as met his eyes for too long.

He was unraveling, and he knew it.

But Alastor didn’t unravel. He didn’t falter. He was chaos, but controlled chaos. And yet, you had done something to him.

And he hated it.

It came to a head one evening, the two of you alone in one of the lesser-used sitting rooms of the hotel. Rain pattered against the windows, and the room was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of an old lamp. It cast long shadows, twisting along the walls like they were alive, like they were watching.

You were watching too.

Alastor had been quiet all night, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his smile a little too sharp, his posture a little too tense.

«You’re avoiding me», you broke the silence with ease, not bothering to mask the amusement in your voice.

Alastor’s fingers stilled. His eyes flickered toward you, red and unreadable. Then — laughter. Bright, grating, forced.

«Now why would I do a thing like that, darling?», his voice was its usual sing-song self, but it lacked its usual bite. «I think you must be imagining things! After all... I am here, with you, all alone».

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm. «Am I?».

He hesitated.

It was brief, but it was still there.

A moment of hesitation, a sliver of uncertainty, and that was all you needed.

«Do you regret it?», you asked, voice softer now.

He went very still.

The shadows stretched around him, his antlers casting long, spindly shapes against the wall. The radio static that always followed him crackled just beneath the surface, an unspoken tension thrumming between you both.

Then — he laughed again, but this time, there was no humor in it.

«Regret?», he cocked his head, grin stretching unnaturally wide.

«Now why would I regret something so insignificant?».

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

«Then why are you running from it?»

His smile twitched. It was the smallest thing — so small most people wouldn’t have noticed. But you weren’t most people.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if shaking off something he couldn’t name. Then, with a sudden, almost violent movement, he was out of his chair and in front of you, too fast for you to react. One gloved hand braced against the chair’s armrest, the other hovering just near your face, fingers curling like he wanted to touch you but couldn’t.

Couldn’t.

Or wouldn’t.

You held your breath, but you didn’t look away.

«You think you’re so clever», he murmured, voice too low, too smooth, like a blade hidden beneath silk. «Poking at things you don’t understand. Playing a game you don’t know the rules to».

You smiled, slow and knowing.

«Then tell me the rules, Alastor», your voice firm and your gazes locked.

His breath hitched. Just for a second. And then, something in him snapped.

His lips were on yours before you even had a chance to react.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was a collision — sharp, desperate, edged with something neither of you had words for yet. His hand finally found your face, going against his instinct to give up on you, on your skin. Gloved fingers pressing into your skin, as if grounding himself, as if keeping himself from slipping through the cracks of something he couldn’t understand.

For a moment — just a moment — he let himself have this.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

He pulled away as if burned, eyes wide, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came.

Then — he laughed.

It was sharp, grating, too loud for the room.

A poor attempt at covering the tremor in his hands, the way his whole body seemed to be fighting against something it couldn’t name.

«Well, now!», he straightened, adjusting his tie with an exaggerated flourish. «That was certainly… enlightening!»

You didn’t speak. You just looked at him.

Waiting.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

«But I do believe I’ve kept you up far too late, my dear! Sweet dreams and all that!»

And before you could so much as blink, he was gone, vanished into the shadows like he had never been there at all.

But you knew better.

Because this time — he was the one running.

And sooner or later, he’d have to stop.

The distance didn’t last.

Of course, it didn’t.

You were attracted to each other like two magnets, the attraction for each other was too strong.

Alastor could run. He could retreat into the static, into the shadows, into the illusion that nothing had changed. But it had. And now, it was eating him alive.

It had been days since that kiss, since he had fled from you like a man on the edge of something he couldn’t name, something he couldn’t control. You had given him space, knowing he would break before you ever had to chase him.

And tonight, he did.

It was well past midnight when he found you.

The storm outside had swallowed the sky whole, thunder rolling in waves, rain hammering against the windows like impatient fingers demanding entry. The dim light of the hotel flickered, struggling against the pull of something unseen, something raw and waiting in the air.

You were in the lounge sitting on the sofa, the piano under the moonlight that created nostalgic atmospheres with the shadows of the reflections.

Alastor stood near the grand piano in the lounge, back turned to you, shoulders stiff beneath his coat. The room was empty, silent but for the faint crackle of radio static, seeping from him like a wound he couldn’t close.

You stepped forward.

«Alastor».

He didn’t turn.

«I should have left», he said, voice thick.

His voice was different. Not his usual sing-song lilt, not his playful, taunting tone. It was quiet. Unsteady. Almost human.

You frowned. «Left?»

He let out a short, breathless laugh, shaking his head.

«The moment I met you, I should have left».

Finally, he turned, and when he did, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Alastor had always been unsettling — too sharp, too knowing, always grinning like he was two steps ahead of everyone else. But now… now he just looked wrecked.

His red eyes burned, feverish, his usual grin nowhere to be found. Instead, his lips were slightly parted, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t form the words.

You stepped closer, and this time, he didn’t back away.

«What are you so afraid of?», you asked, voice gentle.

His jaw clenched. «Don’t».

«Don’t what?»

He exhaled sharply, running a gloved hand through his hair.

«This», he whispered.

«You...», he gestured wildly, like the very idea of you existing in his world was an offense to the natural order of things.

«It’s not supposed to happen like this».

You searched his face. «Like what?»

His eyes flashed. «Like this!»

And suddenly, his hands were on you — gripping your arms, pulling you close, too close.

You could feel the tremor in his fingers, the barely contained storm raging beneath his skin.

«You think I don’t know what you’re doing to me?», he whispered, voice rough, unsteady. «You think I don’t feel it? The way you—», his breath hitched. «The way you’re ruining me?»

Your heart pounded. «Ruining you?»

His grip tightened.

«I don’t love. I don’t want. Not like this».

His voice shook, something raw bleeding through the cracks in his mask.

«Not until you», his voice a tremor.

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

You lifted a hand, brushing your fingers over his jaw, his skin burning even through the gloves. «Alastor…»

He sucked in a sharp breath, as if your touch had cut him open, and for the first time, he didn’t move away.

«I hate this...», he confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

«I hate you», he said again.

«I hate that you’re in my head.

That I dream of you.

That every time I close my eyes, all I see is you. I hate it because I can’t stop it. I hate it because I don't want to stop it».

His forehead rested against yours now, his breath mingling with yours, the storm outside howling like a beast.

You swallowed hard. «Then stop running».

He stilled.

You slid your hands up his chest, fingers curling into his coat, holding him there, as if anchoring him to this moment.

«I don’t want you to love me if it means destroying you. But I see you, Alastor. The real you. And I’m not afraid».

His whole body shuddered, as if your words had shattered something inside him.

And then, before you could say anything else, he kissed you.

It was nothing like before.

There was no hesitation this time, no fleeting, confused touches.

This was something deeper, something desperate, something starving.

His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours like he wanted to disappear into you, like he wanted to drown in the feeling.

You gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound greedily, his grip unrelenting, as if letting go would tear him apart. The static around you roared, the air splitting with unseen energy, lights flickering wildly. The very room seemed to bend around him, as if he was losing control of everything but this.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his hands still cradling your face like he didn’t dare let go.

His voice was hoarse, barely audible.

«You ruined me, my dear. You have no idea what it means to want you mine. What it means to be mine. Like a poison you have corroded my mind. My heart».

You smiled. «No. I saved you», a shiver runs down your spine.

Alastor let out a sharp breath, something like laughter, something like surrender.

Then, with a slow, almost reverent touch, he kissed you again.

And this time, he didn’t run.

[epickiya722]

It just rubs me the wrong way that someone really was like "Midoriya would cheat because he's Japanese and a man. He's a closet gay". Like, I hope this isn't something real that someone said because how could type that out, post it and think it's okay?

[Reblog of the screenshot here.]

Maybe it's just me, but I am so positive that someone's gender, sexuality and race isn't why they are a cheater.

I'm all for shipping. Anyone who has been following long enough knows that I don't hate BakuDeku and I don't even hate IzuOcha. My problem really just comes from shippers. I'm the type of person who will be annoyed by how you act, not what you ship, I'm not discriminating.

But it's like some people really want to say the most outlandish things when they could say...

"I hate this character."

"I hate this ship."

Just say that. Just be out right with it.

It's actually less harmful than saying rather bigoted statements.

And before any BakuDeku anti, IzuOcha shipper, whatever shipper comments on the reblogs or replies like "see, BakuDeku shippers are toxic" or anything like that, just know your group is not any better.

Don't act like it's just BakuDeku shippers who are a problem.

Replace Bakugou, Midoriya and Uraraka with three other characters and it is still a harmful post.

Using something like just to hate on a ship just really defeats the point of calling out ignorant bullshit.

If this is real and the poster meant it as some "joke" it's a terrible one, no matter the ship.

EDIT: So the original poster has deleted the post and apologized.

Personally, I don't see Midoriya as a cheater. Especially, when he's older because I'm sure he would be mature and more open about how he feels. It's just not him.

[4rticbolt]

Sleepy Stalls |Master-list|

Trafalgar Law x !GN!Reader, Fluff, Crack, soft!law, unironically sweet, head-cannons, reader is a mechanic here, overprotective!law because secretly he cares too much, stubborn reader, comfort.

The Heart-Pirate Captain with an s/o who struggles with sleep...

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

1st of all, this is insomniac central. Law cannonly has nightmares, so you could definitely infer he struggles with sleep himself. Most likely kept up by whatever's gearing through his mind.

So he'd be incredibly understanding with you.

Law's the type to put you before himself. So no matter how tired he was he'd always check up on you. Whether you're working in the engine room, eating lunch, or relaxing in your room--he'd quietly seek you out. He was keen, and he would be very observant of your habits.

The surgeon wouldn't be overly concerned--but he would worry. You're his precious crew-mate, and lover, so he's over-protective. Not in an annoying way, but selflessly.

And since Law is a doctor he would have a lot of sleep-aid, from herbal properties to medication--he'd give you anything that you needed. Even if he doesn't himself, overall a hypocrite in the process--so he'd act nonchalant and impassive about it. But deep down it'd really get to him.

Though, knowing the masks he upholds, Law would 100% have chill out time with you in his office. His presence soothed your restlessness much like his own, so be prepared to snooze off in each other's arms or space. If you'd cuddled him or sat close by, he'd be out like a light, leaving his head to gently bonk against your shoulder or thigh.

You wouldn't expect him to be the clingy type, but if you're there--he'd prefer you much closer.

He would find comfort in your pulse, especially when you're asleep. As it wasn't often you were. Law would take in your form and put his finger's to your wrist, slowly nodding off as the slow thump..thump, thrummed against the pads of his fingers. His touch would be uncharastically gentle, and unnoticeable, just another calm gesture to his line of attributes.

If you ever had a bad night he wouldn't push you to talk about it, but he'd offer his presence to let you rant if you wanted to. Law just wanted you to know he'd be there. And that no matter what he'd never take it as a burden if you'd relied on him or asked for a break--which was ultimately needed for the both of you.

Law isn't officially 'cold' or 'uncaring' when comforting you, he's just an awkward dude who isn't the best at it... but he is an amazing listener. He would stick close and let you recline, gently running his hands through your hair.

However, if you'd ever been stubborn about your sleep, he'd meet your pettiness with his own. He'd scold and lecture, but it was never meant harmfully, he was only frustrated that he couldn't solve your issue faster.

Law would never make you feel bad or ashamed about it, because it's not always your fault. There could be thousands of things wrong, but he wasn't going to let himself be one of them. He wouldn't bullshit you, and it might come off rather blunt, but he just wanted to get straight to the point. He didn't want you getting hurt, not on his watch, or in general.

"____-ya, I don't need my star mechanic running on nothing. Nor' do I need you passing out on my sub. You're tired, and you can't even pull through a shift in Nav. I need yo--If something happens I need you, I'm not losing you because of your recklessness. So just take it easy. Alright? You're on rest for the day, and that's final, don't make me babysit you. I trust you that I don't already have to."

Despite his lectures and 'harsh' words, they were true. But of course you felt the need to prove yourself...leaving you to fall asleep on the floor as you'd been trying to clean up. Law found you covered in oil and dirt--pathetically snoozing off on the engine floor.

His gaze softened, but he was frustrated. Law knew you were doing your best. Trying to prove yourself, even if you didn't need to. Because you already had, to him and the crew, your skills far surpassed their own, and he'd been immensely grateful for you.

Law would carefully pick you up, bringing you to his office as he'd wiped your grime covered hands and face with a warm cloth, taking off your shoes as he'd tucked you into his couch. Watching you with tender eyes as he always did, ending up into another lecture when you'd woke up. But you'd been used to it by now.

Your captain had always been adamant about your health, no matter your argument or overwhelmed nature--you were one of his top priorities. Not in a tasking way, maybe at times--but he was just an awkward idiot showing his care for you.

. . .

Though no matter your difficulty or his own, he'd stick up for you. Your atrocious schedule had been acknowledged by the crew, which initiated light-hearted teasing. They'd seen you variously asleep across the sub, in the most awkward positions and places, along with the bags under your eyes. Everyone knew you'd been trying to do it alone, especially since your room was closest to the engine room--dealing with valve tweaks and motor-issues. You hadn't thought twice about the conversation. It'd simply flown over your head beside your captain's.

Shachi had used his dark humor, joking about putting night-aid in your drink so you'd to finally get some well-earned rest...

The joke seemed a little far-fetched, but it wasn't meant weirdly. It was...in a way of concern, because he knew you were stubborn. And Shachi had wanted you to get proper rest...though it wasn't the smartest thing to say. Especially with your captain in the room.

The comment created laughter, despite the cold angry glint in your lover's eyes. A dangerous feeling was directed towards Shachi, and he paled, hiding behind his greatest weakness. Using you as a shield.

It seemed Law hadn't taken the joke like everyone else, he'd taken it literally.

"Yeah, you go ahead and do that and you'll find a shit ton of laxatives in your coffee." he threatened, pointing his fork at his subordinate.

"Woah--haha, only joking Cap!" He laughed, hitting your back, knocking you forward slightly. "Right ____? All fun here, I'd never," he continued, patting your shoulder.

"Yeah yeah, only jokes..." you said absentmindedly, withholding a mouthful of food.

Law only deadpanned, rolling his eyes at your clueless expression before laying off. This man does NOT play around with you, no matter the joke or tease.

[shoehorseconstant]

I used to fantasize about what it would be like to have him in my life and introduce him to everyone and go on cute dates with him and finally be special to someone but I think it's just not my time to understand those things

[welcometogrouchland]

Noticing that TV and film will often have a character either have had an abortion in the past that isn't showcased on screen (and just used as part of the character's ~fucked up and twisted backstory~) OR contemplate getting an abortion in the present day but not to through with it. Just once I want to see someone delete that fetus within the events of the plot and not be like. Extremely majorly punished for it and/or be in the wrong

[theangrypomeranian]

I just want my passion back man idk why that's so much to ask for

[restinpeacesensei]

suggesting something,,

[imminent-danger-came]

I really am so sad I don't like isat. The themeing was very good

[bookshelfdreams]

.

[chatdae]

Grace FUMBLED Ryan! BAD parenting to preach respect and then act contrarily (ie saying she wants him to feel safe, then not allowing him any autonomy). She should've let him leave and come back... or at least explained why she didn't want him to leave before deciding (ex: 'Homelander will kidnap you', etc). She needed to let him make the decision for himself... agh. AAAAA.

And now Butcher's no use because he's committed to being evil and can't offer ANYTHING good to Ryan!!! He was so right, they NEEDED to give Ryan more space... I know the external pressures seemed impossible, but dammit, Grace, this was no way to beat the odds!

(this is about The Boys season four)