#I’m sure that would be more kind and helpful than whatever I’m trying to do on my own but. yknow

[onlinedolly]

SAVIOR COMPLEX

au where leon is a normal cop at raccoon city and you’re a pretty little thing he’s obsessed with ^___^

cw: stalking, kidnapping, drug use, dubcon, dry humping (?), hard language, dead dove do not eat, i think that’s it!

not proof read cuz i’m lazy lol

Leon, in his mind, was a good man.

He’d done a lot in his career, saved countless lives; so when he sees you he thinks it’s no different, not really. You were a young thing, pretty and too naive for your own good. Didn’t you know the world now? How cruel it could be? It made Leon sick to think about it, he’d only seen you once — pretty and smiling and all he could think was how the world was going to fuck you up eventually.

He began watching you then, like a good man does. Following you to your small apartment complex (on a side of town that put a sour taste in his mouth) every night, watching you from your window until you fell asleep, it was all precautionary really, he told himself. Had to make sure you were safe. That nothing bad would ever happen.

It’d been this way for a few weeks, maybe around a month or so until he witnessed the incident that really made his blood boil over. A man, taller and creepy, had been following you around the store for a while now, looking for his way in. Leon definitely couldn’t interject, not now, not when you didn’t know him, bound to just make the situation worse. So he watched, clenching the cart he had in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He almost interjected when he saw the man put his hand on your waist, watching as you cowered away as he grabbed something for you on a higher self. You poor, sweet thing, so naive and stupid. Leon decided then he had to do whatever it would take to help you. That’s what it was really, helping.

Leon was a good man.

-

It was harder than he originally thought taking you, you had a lively group of friends and supportive parents he would no doubt have to figure his way around. But, oh how the heavens must of listened to his prayers when he’d seen you (followed you for more than two hours) stumbling out of a bar drunk and alone.

It was divine timing really, Leon thought to himself. You were stumbling around to a back alley, fiddling with your phone in an attempt to order a ride share to pick you up, no doubt. How stupid were you really, Leon thought. Drunk and alone and ordering a car from a stranger to make sure you got home safe? You really truly knew no better, huh? What if you got hurt, kidnapped, assaulted?

Leon made it his mission all those weeks ago to protect you, help you at any cost, so when he sneaks up behind you placing the rag over your mouth until your body goes limp he’s simply doing it out of protection, out of love.

When he drags your limp body into his car, making sure no one saw, all he can think is how much better off you were in his arms. He was a cop after all, right?

Leon was a good man, he truly honestly believed that.

-

“You’re home now,” He’d explained when you came to in Leon’s apartment. You were scared, huddled in the corner of your pretty pink room ( which Leon had spent a lot of time on in decorating), and Leon really was trying his best to make you comfortable.

He sauntered over to you, and you couldn’t help but notice how he looked like he was a predator stalking his prey, leaning down and reaching his hand out to you in a kind gesture you hadn’t expected, “Let’s talk on the bed, why don’t we baby?” He spoke softly, kindly.

You were still frightened as hell, way too frightened to resist him, so with shaky fingers and sweaty palms you grasped his much bigger one and let him help you up. Leon moved you two to the bed, it was soft and had a pink floral bedspread, and sat closer to you than you wanted.

You had some strength, and you were confused and nervous, “Why?” stumbled out of your lips, hoarse and soft.

Leon nodded his head, “I knew you’d ask that, that’s okay—“ He leans up, brushes some hair off your forehead causing you to flinch, “— I wouldn’t expect you to understand at first, any how.” He spoke like he knew you, how long had he been watching you? Days? Months?

“I saved you.” He spoke matter of factly, it sent a chill down your spine. Saved you? From what?

“I-I don’t need saving,” You found courage to speak, still soft, still so hoarse, “I think you have the wrong p-person I-“

Leon’s jaw clinched as you cut yourself off. Of course you did, Leon’s not fucking stupid. Are you really so goddamn dumb to not realize how scary the world is? What it can do to sweet little things like you? But no, of course you didn’t know that, how could he expect you to? He pushed the rising anger down, Leon was a good man and really only got angry sometimes and he was going to control it if it meant making you like him. Getting you to love him.

“Pretty thing,” He spoke, moving closer to you so your knees knocked together, “I don’t expect you to understand.”

-

Despite everything, you just weren’t seeming to adjust to your new surroundings. Leon had saved you a little over a week ago, and despite trying to make you as comfortable as possible you still just seemed to want to leave.

After your first conversation Leon tried and tried to interact with you, form a relationship with you. He brought you three meals a day, each time watching you struggle to find a new way to escape. First it was the sealed window, the lock picking of the dead bolted doors, even trying to attack him like Leon can’t over power you in seconds. He couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t get you comfortable here.

Why couldn’t you see everything he was doing was for you? You can’t escape, not when the world is just going to eventually eat you up and leave you as broken as him. He was doing the right thing, keeping you here, why couldn’t you see that?

After another week of escape attempts and dry conversations over take out he had gotten you, you finally let up a bit. More open, more willing, the conversation was still dry but at least you weren’t trying to escape anymore.

“Sweet girl,” He spoke kindly,like he always did, as he entered with a tray of food. “I brought your food.” He entered the room, locking the various locks behind him as he sat on your bed. Leon had been nothing but kind in the past two weeks you’ve been here. It made you confused how someone who could so viciously take you was so kind hearted. You walked over to the bed, inspecting the food.

“You didn’t put anything in it, did you?” You asked, just like you always asked.

“Would that make you easier to manage, pretty thing?” He joked. It wasn’t funny, instead it made you feel sick how he could even joke about a topic like that. “No,” He reassured after seeing your fast twist up, “I didn’t put anything in it.” He leaned down, taking a bite of the food to show you it wasn’t contaminated, and only then did you feel safe enough to bring the fork to your lips.

Leon watched you eat for a few moments before speaking, “I was working today—“ He loved these stories, you thought, the ones that make the world seem bad. “— And we got a call. A guy shot his girlfriend. Can you believe that?” He moved to place his palm on your head, smiling at you bright and kind, “Thank god you’re here, right? Not with a sick bastard that could hurt you.”

You could almost laugh, did he not see who he was? A sick bastard in his own right, twisted and fucked up, just kind about it. You simply nodded, it was easier to give in, easier to please him. “Right.” You spoke softly.

-

It was another two weeks and you, embarrassingly so, had gotten more comfortable here. Sleep came more easy to you and Leon was slowly becoming a more comforting presence in your life.

He brought you food, just like always, telling you about his latest work story as you sipped your water. Unfortunately, the stories were starting to scare you, make your hair stand on end as he tells you about a man who murdered his family.

“Make sure to drink it all,” Leon dotes on you, tapping your glass with a big finger, “Need my pretty girl hydrated, hm?” You nod sweetly, just like you’ve been doing the past couple weeks and drink it all in three big gulps.

And okay, Leon was a good man!!! But he wasn’t always honest. He hadn’t been feeding you drugs, but that didn’t mean you weren’t taking them. He’d put them in your drink, mix them up until they were dissolved and make sure you drink it all. It wasn’t anything bad, what he gave you just made you a little sleepy and maybe a little more pliable to what he wanted from you. It didn’t hurt and he wouldn’t keep you out his stuff forever, just until you were ready to be weened off. When you were ready to love him back sober.

When your meal was done and he could tell you were feeling hazy, he leaned down like he always did and placed a soft kiss to your forehead mumbling what a good job you did for him. And you couldn’t help but admit how it made you feel, giddy and comforted.

Leon really wasn’t an awful guy, you caught yourself thinking as he exited the room. He fed you sufficiently, gave you the best clothes and softest towels to shower with, and he really wasn’t that terrible of company. Another 10 or so minutes passed and you were exhausted, falling into a slumber full of Leon.

-

You’d been here two months now, Leon kept you more drugged up than sober these days, but it made you so kind and needy. That’s right he said needy. A couple weeks ago your demeanor began to change, excitement filling you when he’d enter the room, telling him how much you’d missed him while away. He could get used to this.

He’d come to visit you before bed, you were in a pink pretty night gown with your hair in two messy braids when he’d came into the room.

“Leon,” You smiled softly at him, big doe eyes focused on the man by the door way.

“Hi sweetheart,” He spoke, locking the door and walking over to your bed to sit next to you, “Have a fun day, hm?” He pet your hair, giddy in the way that you lean into it.

“Had a good day, watched movies.” Ah yeah, Leon had gotten you a small box tv and some dvds from a resale shop, he was glad you were enjoying those.

“Good, good girl,” He spoke, not missing the way you purred hazily at the nickname, “Little girls deserve to have fun, yeah?”

You nodded at him happily, leaning more into his touch. You’d been such a good girl these past couple weeks, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and he felt how warm you got underneath his touch.

You were so affectionate tonight, would he test the waters more? See what else he could get away with?

“Baby, could we do something different tonight?”

“Different…how?” You spoke softly, flinching a little out of fear. Ah, he expected that to still be there. The thought of something new in this situation was bound to be scary.

“You’ll enjoy yourself angel,” He promised, pressing another sweet kiss to your cheek. He moved so he was laid on the bed next to you, sitting up with his head against the headboard. “Why don’t you give me a kiss first, hm?”

Leon had gotten you to kiss him a couple days prior, you’d been so nervous and fumbling when he’d held your head with his big hands explaining that he deserved a kiss for everything he’d done for you. He was too mean to be the one to kiss you first, waiting for you to stand on you tippy toes and place your lips against his. After a few minutes he’d grown impatient until you did just that, a small peck and turned into a heated session that had you panting into his mouth.

And now you loved kissing him, all hazy and dumb as you would beg him for goodbye kisses everytime he left you. So asking you for a kiss now was nothing out of the ordinary, and it wasnt out of the ordinary for you to climb into his lap and kiss him sloppily and sweet just like you were doing now.

And Leon *loved* it, the patience, the drugging, the kind sweet words was all worth it to lead to moments like this. With you licking at his bottom lip messily until he opened up to shove his tongue down your throat.

He was so happy it wasn’t some punk ass guy doing this to you, a man you didn’t deserve. It had to be him, he was everything you needed. He tested the waters, moving his hands to grip at your waist, he felt you jump beneath him, flinching at the new action. He pulled away smiling at you kindly,

“I told you something new, baby. You gotta trust me,” He gripped your hips tighter, feeling how you shook under him. It was exhilarating having you like this, inexperienced and scared under his touch.

“L-Leon,” You stuttered out, readjusting in his hold, making him groan out softly.

“Be patient, sweet thing.” He demanded, moving you around his lap, releasing another low groan from him.

You could feel something hard under you, hard and big. You gasp, trying to lift yourself off of him and he pushes you back down. “We’re gunna have s’much fun together, ain’t we sweet thing?” He slurred out until he found a good position for you to be in. Leaning his head against the headboard. “Gunna move your hips yeah? Be real weird at first, ‘kay baby? But I’ll make you feel real good sweet girl.” He spoke, leaning up to kiss the shell of your ear.

You’d gotten to the point where it was hard to refuse him, out of fear? Maybe. Or maybe it was something more. So you just nod eagerly, overwhelmed tears filling up your eyes as you wait for his instruction or his motion.

He begins rocking your hips against what you assume is his cock, you gasp softly, the feeling new and foreign to you.

Leon lets out a deep groan, he was loving this. He couldn’t believe he was here with you like this, rocking against his cock. He grips your hips harder, picking up the pace as your clothes cunt rubs against his cock. “God, aren’t you glad I took you, hm?” He’s rambling as you gasp and whine and cry under his hold, “If you’d done this with anyone else baby, I would’ve had to kill them, yeah? Aren’t you glad I rescued you.”

“Y-yeah,” You whine out, over come with this new feeling. The only things separating your cunt and his hard cock was your think panties and his rough pajama pants that rubbed deliciously against your pussy. You’re crying, overwhelmed by the feeling, lashes wet and tears dripping onto Leon’s cheeks (not that he gave a fuck), you move your hands up, shakily wiping the wet from his face as he moves you all at a fast pace.

“Enjoying yourself little girl? Yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” You hiccup, hazy and high, “T-thank you..” You whisper out.

“Dirty thing,” He groans out, moving you faster against his cock. He could only imagine what it’d be like to finally sink himself inside of you. He knows for a fact how wet you’d be, how he’d have to work you on his fingers before you take his big dick. The thought could make him cum in his pants.

“L-Leon I feel funny I…” You trail off, gripping his shirt in your smaller hands. He was so muscular it was almost breath taking.

“Yeah sweet girl I bet you do,” He laughed softly, trailing one of his hands down to press against your panty clad clit. You yelped softly, letting out multiple soft moans at the new sensation.

Your body was on fire, lit from the inside out as you gave up and indulged yourself in this new feeling. Your cunt was soaked leaving a dark stain on Leon’s pajamas as he roughly rocked you back and forth.

“God, fuck you’re such a good girl,” Leon grunts out, he was close, with the dry humping and the thoughts of fucking your sloppy cunt until you couldn’t think no more, he was ready to fucking explode. after a few more minutes he’s soaking himself, his pajamas a dark stained mess as he cums all over himself and your pretty panties. He makes a noise that’s almost like a growl as he grips your hip in a bruising hold.

You yelp out at the pain as he is circling your clit in a rough fast pace, you felt like you had to pee, the build up inside of you getting stronger and stronger as he mumbles sweet praises and tells you how he saved you over and over again, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

Finally the coil inside of you snaps as you yell out, a sobbing mess as you twitch and convulse and rut yourself against his big hand. Leon could cum again almost looking at you fuck your wet cunt against his hand.

You were overwhelmed but you couldn’t stop, you were shaking and sobbing at this point as you fuck yourself fast and hard against his hand.

“Baby let’s stop, yeah?” He spoke, pressing his hands on your tummy and back and slowing you to a stop, kissing you on your cheek as he stares at your blissed out face.

Leon Kennedy was a good man, Leon was your savior.

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 2

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks can't stop thinking about you and how you'll fit in with the crew

Warnings: late night thoughts and mentions of abuse

Doll Masterlist

Later that night, while Shanks lay in the room he'd rented, the redhead couldn't stop thinking about you. Even while pleasantly buzzed still from earlier, his mind was a whirlwind of thought, and as much as it disgusted him to consider, he did want to know what kind of slave you were. The Celestial Dragons were known to keep all kinds of races, from Fishman to Giants. Labor, entertainment, pleasure.

Shanks hoped that you hadn't been part of the latter. You didn't seem like it, didn't have the innate sultry look that Shanks had seen before, but that didn't mean you couldn't hide it from him. He could go ask you, demand you tell him since he was the one who decided to bring you on board, but the thought of doing that left an awful taste in his mouth. Shanks wanted you to trust him. He wanted to be your friend.

You hadn't told him much about your past, only the little bit that you’d been willing to share with him so far, but Shanks wanted you to feel safe enough that you would want to share everything with him eventually. He wanted to see you smile more, wanted to see you relax and feel at home with him and the rest of his crew. You wanted to know everything, so Shanks would make sure you got what you wanted.

A knock on his door tore the captain from his thoughts, and he jumped from the bed to open the door. You stood on the other side, a contrite expression on your face. His own schools into one of concern and lean against the doorway.

“Everything okay, Doll?” He asks quietly and has a hard time not reaching out to cup her face when you bite your lip and avoid his eyes. He waits patiently for you, not willing to rush you into anything that you might not be read for.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t earlier, and it’s been bothering me,” you ramble and then fall silent. You don’t want your new captain to rescind his offer to join him, but you’ve been instructed to say please and thank you since you could remember, even if whatever you’d been sent to do ended in punishment.

Shanks softens even more at your admission. He can see the old fear lingering in your eyes, and it makes rage boil in his chest that you’ve been subject to such treatment that a simple thank you made you so nervous. He doesn’t fight the urge this time to reach out to cup your face in his hand, his lips turning up in a sad smile.

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to thank me for something like this. Don’t think you have to treat me and mine like you had to treat those bastards. I don’t own you, Doll. You own yourself.”

He watches in mild panic as tears form in your eyes, and then he has a chest full of sobbing woman. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to try and provide some form of comfort. Shanks isn’t the best at this, but for you? He’d try his damndest. He dips his head and presses a kiss to the top of your head and listens as your sobs begin to slow down into quiet sniffles.

You grimace as you pull away and look at his shirt from where your face had been pressed, “I’m sorry, I got you all nasty.”

Shanks laughs and shakes his head. You were adorable like this, and he couldn’t get enough of it, “Darling. I promise you that this shirt has had worse than some snot and tears on it.”

The look of disgust that paints your face is all worth the confession, and Shanks only laughs harder when you pull away and wipe your face. You crinkle your nose and eye him with a now skeptical look, “When was the last time you washed that shirt?”

Shanks aims an innocent look, lips pursed as he shrugs a shoulder. You scoff and cross your arms, but your fear from earlier seems to be gone, so the redhead is happy.

“Maybe it is a good thing I’m coming along. A crew full of men probably needs a woman’s touch,” You quip, and Shanks can’t help but silently agree. He won’t lie and say that the laundry doesn’t get piled up on occasion. Or the dishes despite Lucky Roux keeping the kitchen orderly. He’s guilty himself for letting his quarters get a little too messy. But he didn’t bring you along so that you could be their maid.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, _,” Shanks murmurs, tone dropping the playful tilt as he catches her chin in his hand, “I’m not bringing you with us for that.”

His heart thuds in his chest at the smile that you send him. You slowly reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing softly before letting your hand fall back to your side. It makes you feel good that Shanks is taking your comfort in mind, but you wouldn’t be a burden on his ship.

“I know that, but I don’t think I could physically just sit around and do nothing. I’ve worked… my whole life, Shanks, and I don’t want to be just another mouth to feed. I want to be helpful,” you say and shrug a little helplessly. The only break you’ve ever had was in the last month of your escape, but even then, you were constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the day that someone recognized you and dragged you back to Marie Geois. The guilt of leaving the other slaves behind still ate at you, and you wished that you could have been able to take them with you.

“Then we’ll figure it out as we go, Doll,” Shanks promises and strokes his thumb along your jaw like he had earlier before he drops his hand. He doesn’t want you to think that he wants you for anything other than your company. Not that you’re not beautiful, but Shanks doesn’t want you to think he expected something like that from you. Not unless you wanted it.

You blush at th efeeling of the rough pad of his finger against your skin. You didn’t like it when people touched you, but you found that dislike absent when Shanks did it. It felt natural and kept you grounded in a way you didn’t expect. You flick your eyes up, catching his own and send him a small smile, “Thank you again, Shanks.”

The redhead meets it with a grin of his own. A yawn suddenly catches you off guard, and you cover your mouth with a hand, eyes squinting as you look away from him. Shanks snickers at the way your nose scrunches up and steps back into his room.

“Go catch some sleep, Doll. We’ll stay here a couple more days to resupply, and then we’ll be on our way,” Shanks yawns himself halfway through, his words coming out slow and choppy before they even out. He smirks when his antics make you laugh, and then he is watching you turn on your heel and lope down the hall, “Night, Doll.”

“Night, Shanks,” you call softly back, and then you disappear around the corner. Shanks sighs once you are gone. Mind stuffed even more with thoughts about you as he shuts the door and lays back down. He rubs a hand down his face and rolls to his side, vowing to figure out the details in the morning.

[talia-black]

Relationship Headcanons (Liyue Boys)

Okay, these posts don’t really follow a precise formatting, but there is a general line of reasoning I try to stick to when doing these headcanons. First paragraph is mainly explaining how the character’s circumstances would affect their position on having a significant other, and any kind of pre-existing ideas (if they have any) about what the character would want from their significant other. Second, what they didn’t know they wanted from a significant other, and how their partner would care for them/express their affection as a romantic partner. Third, some general ideas of what circumstances and person the character would fall. Some are more specific than others based on the reasons explained in the first paragraph. Fourth, how long it takes for the character to realize their feelings, how long it takes for them to confess, and then how they would go about dating their potential partner. Last paragraph is mainly how the character would act in a settled relationship and some ways they would express affection. For the most part angst free when it comes to the actual relationships.

I’m so sorry Xiao’s took up so much. He’s the reason I started playing Genshin and his emotional walls took my entire stamina bar to scale. I just want to do our favorite emo boy right <3

I will be grouping characters by their home regions, or at least where the character is living/currently considers home, so Childe will be with the other Snezyneyans. As for those with unknown origins… we’ll see if I make it there. 

(Also no Chongyun. I’m so sorry, but I don’t have him and I just don’t have a good enough grasp on his character for me to be able to write for him. To all of the Chongyun appreciators, I extend my deepest apologies. He seems sweet and cute.) 

SO= Significant Other Link to the Mondstadt Boys post

BAIZHU 

Honestly, my personal favorite out of all the Liyue men (His story quest is a work of art) but I promise to try and not let that affect my judgment. Baizhu is another workaholic, except in this case the workaholic in question is quite ill most of the time and continues to make himself even more ill in order to fulfill his oath and calling as a doctor. Between his work at the pharmacy, his own personal research, and managing his illness, he is another who wouldn’t give much thought to a romantic relationship. He had briefly thought about it in his youth, as many adolescents often do, but whatever desires he might have had were forgotten when he began his studies. Hypothetically speaking, Baizhu would want a significant other who shares his world views. Outside his flawless professional reputation, the few people who know him somewhat closely don’t fully support his pursuit of immortality. An SO who Baizhu felt safe enough to confide in, and fully believed in his goal, would mean everything to him. 

What Baizhu didn’t know he wanted in an SO was someone who didn’t just support his goals, but actively helped him pursue them while simultaneously making sure he took care of himself. Someone who would go herb gathering when Qiqi was busy with other errands, who would force Baizhu to take naps when he was fatigued and took care of the pharmacy on his behalf. Someone who would secretly stay up late into the night a few times a week in order to study every single medical text Baizhu had in his possession. Baizhu didn’t even notice they did this until they managed to diagnose a patient quicker than him. 

“Now where did you learn to identify such subtle symptoms darling?” 

“Your old textbooks make for excellent nighttime reading.”

I think for Baizhu to even consider someone romantically the first meeting would have to be outside a professional capacity. Perhaps they were a resident of Chenyu Vale who ran into Baizhu while he was searching for herbs. They were a photographer putting together a photo album to advertise to tourists, and coincidentally some of the most photogenic areas happened to host the plants Baizhu was looking for. Baizhu was fascinated in how they managed to capture the beauty of life, and when he found out they would be moving to Liyue soon he invited them to stop by Buba Pharmacy if they ever needed anything. However, he wouldn’t see them again until the next Lanturn Rite, when they came looking for him after Qiqi told them he was too sick to leave his room. They sat at Baizhu’s bedside despite his protests and made him soup. Baizhu woke up the next morning feeling better than he had in ages, and the sight of them passed out with their arms folded at the end of his bed practically had hearts radiating from his eyes. 

Baizhu is someone who is incredibly emotionally intelligent, making the time between the initial discovery of feelings and the realization of those feelings incredibly short. And the confession would only take as long as is necessary for him to gauge whether they might also be potentially interested in him. From there, it's straight to the admittance of feelings. Most likely somewhere secluded and scenic. Either by the seaside, or in the mountains at night where he asked them out on a picnic. He would know early on whether they were right for him, and though he’s incredibly inexperienced when it comes to romantic engagements, Baizhu finds that he is perfectly content to let them lead the way. He made sure to leave Buba Pharmacy to Gui at least one afternoon a week in order to spend time with them. This typically is excused as “herb gathering” (aka, they are trying to find new photo spots while Baizhu spends most of the time listening to them talk. Gui never comments that Baizhu’s basket is rarely even half-full when he returns). Nobody really knows their relationship exists. Not because they go to any length to hide their relationship but just because no one really knows Baizhu outside of his job. Once the right person notices though, it's the talk of Liyue for a few weeks. The benevolent but distant doctor is dating? How shocking! But after the few scraps of gossip ran dry and both Baizhu and his SO refused to feed into them, they died as quickly as they came about.

Expect lots of gentle affection from Baizhu. His SO would never doubt for a second that he treasures them beyond what is capable of being expressed in words, but it isn’t the all-consuming love that many other Genshin characters would give. He is secure in his life and situation, and it's rare that Baizhu feels any kind of desperation for his SO’s affection that would manifest in the way he expresses his love to them. When it does though, needless to say his SO would be calling it an early night to fill his prescription of cuddles <3. Nothing much would change once they married. Baizhu would just have to remember to take off his wedding ring before examining his patients.  Until of course Baizhu either succeeds in his goal, or he heals one person too many and places his life in an even more precarious position than before, forcing his SO to choose between saving the man they love and helping their husband fulfill their dream. But these posts are supposed to be mostly angst free so we’re not going to talk about that :)

Well. On the topic of angst, any relationship with Xiao (romantic or otherwise) is almost like a reverse of Baizhu’s. All of the baggage hits full in the face immediately upon introduction. As has been shown throughout the entirety of the game, Xiao is a walking ball of trauma and self-loathing. Between his abusive master, the archon war, and the deaths of his fellow yakshas, Xiao hasn’t had a period of true happiness in a long time. Even now, when Liyue is at peace and Xiao is freed from his contract, he’s not able to begin healing. His karmic debt acts as a poison, forcing Xiao to keep a distance from humans or risk accidentally infecting them with god remains. However, Xiao also uses that as an excuse to continue avoiding any form of non-essential interaction with others. Centuries of ending the lives of countless gods and beasts alike has convinced Xiao he is incapable of doing anything other than cause harm. Undeserving of anything except the agony of his karma and self-imposed solitude. Even the idea of an SO that loves and cherishes him is so completely beyond his comprehension that he could be married to them and he would still have to wrestle with the voices in his head that say they don’t actually want anything to do with him.

What Xiao didn’t know he wanted was one: an SO. And two: an SO who exists outside of the violence and hardship. Someone who gives Xiao a safe space for him to let go of his burdens and just rest without his karmic debt hanging over him. Someone who would give Xiao the opportunity to heal. 

Unfortunately, a mortal SO is out of the question. The Visionless can’t be around Xiao for extended periods of time, and even those with visions risk being afflicted with karma. This would inevitably put a strain on the relationship, so Xiao’s SO would have to be some kind of semi-immortal in order to give him some peace of mind. Most likely a fellow adeptus or another semi-immortal. Someone who will at least have heard of Xiao’s past but also doesn’t know him the way many of the adeptus with close relations to Liyue do and are entirely used to Xiao’s behaviors.

I can see Xiao doing his usual patrols and ends up fighting a large group of monsters near Qingce Village. He hasn’t let himself rest recently, combined with a few lucky shots from Hilichurl archers and a well-timed swing from a mitachurl pushes Xiao to his limit. He manages to finish off his opponents, but collapses before he can teleport back to Wangshu Inn. He wakes up partially submerged in a pool of water, an unfamiliar face looming over him. Panicked, but still weak, it took everything in him to leap away and teleport back to the inn. XIao immediately fell to his knees and resigned himself to laying down on the roof while he regained his strength. Once he could lift his head he checked for any injuries, and was baffled to find any trace of his battle gone. The only sign he had even been wounded was a quickly fading scar on his right bicep. Even the tear in his clothes had been restitched. The being, they hadn’t looked like any spirit or monster, and yet the aura that radiated from them was certainly not human. Days later, Xiao was fully recovered and the mysterious being was still weighing heavily on his mind. He didn’t have any idea of where he had been before he teleported back to the inn, so seeking them out would be nearly impossible. It was only after much deliberation that he decided to consult Mo-... Zhongli.

Zhongli, while shocked to see Xiao inquiring after something unrelated to his contract, provided him with what he knew. From Xiao’s description, the archon remarked that they sounded like one of the younger adepti that had emerged after Fujin vanished. Healing spirits who blessed the water of Chenyu Vale, and would often ease the ailments of those who were brave enough to venture to the underground lakes that were their homes. Zhongli mentioned that one in particular was far more willing to venture above their subterranean home and aid travelers making the increasingly dangerous journey from Qingce Village to Chenyu Vale. When the retired archon asked why Xiao was so curious about them, he watched in amusement as Xiao’s milk white skin flushed ever so slightly in embarrassment. He mumbled out a shortened version of what had transpired, and Zhongli lightly scolded the adepti for being so reckless, and advised him to seek out the healer and properly thank them for their assistance. The yaksha bid him goodbye and swiftly moved to the area Zhongli had directed him to. Carefully tucked away in a valley of broken statues and old stone faces was an old, worn passage. On instinct he summoned his polearm. Such areas were often infested with monsters and old spirits, and the yaksha had not survived a millennia of bloodshed by being careless. However, his caution turned out to be unwarranted. The dark winding tunnel was rather short, and opened up to a breathtaking underground spring. An old willow’s branches hung low over the pond, and resting beneath it was a figure identical to the one Xiao had seen before. Unwilling to disturb them, but also hesitant to simply leave and come back later, he decided to do what he did best. The adepti awoke to find Xiao perched in their tree, facing the entrance of the cave. Xiao was caught off guard how after their initial shock, they were actually really excited to see him. Xiao tried to maintain a distance, which only lasted a short time before they bullied him into letting them check his wounds. After confirming that all his wounds had healed properly, they pressed a Qingxin charm into his hand and promised to come if he was ever hurt or in need of assistance. Completely overwhelmed by their enthusiasm and the absurdity of their offer, Xiao did the only thing he could think of. He teleported away. Only to reappear a few months later with a mitachurl’s ax still lodged in his gut. His visits became more frequent and less a matter of life or death as he found himself being drawn to the kind and lively adeptus. Sometimes his visits wouldn’t even involve interaction at all. He would just appear in the branches of their tree and watch them as they tended to their grotto and the animals that knew they could seek them out whenever they were injured.

Xiao is emotionally constipated. It would take him a looooooooong time to figure out that the peculiar feeling in his chest that swelled up whenever he was near them was love. Such a realization would then be followed by immediately abandoning all interaction with anyone while he grappled with feelings and urges he had never experienced before. Xiao would eventually seek out Zhongli for advice on how to get rid of the feelings. Unfortunately for him, Morax was secretly overjoyed that Xiao had found it in himself to willingly interact with someone else for his own pleasure. He knew Xiao better than anyone, and he already could envision the anxieties and fears plaguing the yaksha’s mind when being faced with such a fragile and frightening feeling such as love. In his infinite wisdom, he told Xiao that the best way to rebalance himself is to admit his feelings to the adepti. His confession would ease his own burdens, while also giving them a proper explanation as to why Xiao had been avoiding them. Xiao’s cheeks flushed at the idea, but Zhongli had never led him astray before. The adepti was quite amused at Xiao’s blunt admission of feelings, and even more so when Xiao’s cheeks turned the color of ripe Sunsettias after they gave him a kiss on the cheek. The color further saturated when they said they felt the same. 

The relationship would start out awkward. Xiao’s experience with courtship is reduced to what he’s observed from human couples and the adepti, which has given him a lot of conflicting information about what he should be doing. Should he be holding their hand whenever they’re together? Should he give them a gift during an important occasion? Xiao’s uncertainty and anxiety would cause him to send very confusing signals to his SO, where something that he was perfectly fine with one day caused him to flinch away the next. Eventually the SO was the one to seek out assistance, as they had no idea what they were doing either. They had spoken with Cloud Retainer on a few occasions over the centuries and they knew she maintained somewhat close relations with their favorite yaksha, so they figured she would be able to offer some advice. Pleased that Xiao was finally attempting to open up to someone, Cloud Retainer told his SO that he simply needed time to adjust. He was entirely new to active relationships, and openly communicating their desires to him would be the best way to provide him direction. As the years passed, the awkwardness bled into a much more comfortable and easygoing routine. After a night of battling monsters and demons, Xiao would retreat to their shared abode to rest in his SO’s arms. They had rearranged a small cave next to the healing pool to create a nest that soothed Xiao’s dormant avian instincts, never commenting when Xiao would spend hours rearranging it whenever he would add something new or decided that the pillows needed to be changed. On one such morning when the sun was already peaking over the mountains, both of them had already retired to the nest. Xiao had his SO tucked underneath his chin and his back to the opening of the cave. No monster dared tread within a mile of this cave anymore, but some habits could never completely be broken. All is peaceful, before a truly brutal realization stakes Xiao in a way karma never could. He was… happy. The peace he had only scraps of for centuries was now being given in quantities that made him feel slothful and glutinous. A single tear rolled down his cheek and fell onto his SO’s hand that was settled protectively over his heart. His SO blinked back into awareness and immediately cupped Xiao’s cheek upon seeing the glazed look in his eye.

“Dearest heart, are you alright? Is there something I can do?” 

Xiao nuzzles their hand before burrowing his face in the crook of their shoulder. Aching for his wings in order to hide them both away in the nest. 

“It's nothing Blossom. Please, rest. I merely wish to enjoy your presence for a little while longer.”

ZHONGLI

Another archon, however he is very different from Venti. Zhongli has always been closely tied to the people of his nation in a way the God of Freedom has never been with his. His SO could hold any occupation, come from any background, and Zhongli would find a way to connect with them. Unlike Venti I think he would secretly wish his SO would accept his offer to extend their life. He has lost too many friends and loved ones over the years that to fall so hard and treasure someone so closely only to lose them would be the final straw that broke his countenance completely. He would see his duty to its end, watching over Liyue Harbor, but he would do it from afar. There would be no consultant at Wangshang Funeral Parlor who knew more about the lands than seasoned historians. No friendly face in the crowd at Liyue’s many performances and festivals. Only a solitary soul who spends his days in the ruins on top of Mt. Aocang, reliving memories that had been lost to time the same way the faces of cliffs are worn down by the waves. While over the millenia he has found a handful of companions he grew particularly fond of, in his earlier years he had few goals beyond the protection of Liyue and the expansion of his hoard. After centuries of mellowing out, Zhongli’s priorities have shifted greatly, and only a few of his closest friends walk the same plane as him now. His love could be of the mortal or immortal realm, all he would ask of them was that they vow to stand by his side until the great mountains of Liyue are swallowed by the sea.

What Zhongli didn’t know he wanted was an SO who was as good of a speaker as he was a listener. Someone still somewhat naive to the ways of the world and a boundless curiosity and desire to understand everything. That innate desire that manifested in conversations that seldom lasted less than an hour. For the first time in his long life, Zhongli’s tea would cool before he remembered it was there. He simply could not tear his attention away from the sparks that radiated from their eyes whenever they launched into a new line of inquiry. 

As said previously, background or profession would not be an obstacle for Zhongli now that he was posing as a mortal. But I think Zhongli would be quickly endeared to someone who loved stories as much as he did. Whether it be an opera, a puppet show, or just oral retellings, he would quickly find himself interested in someone who is similarly fascinated by the art of story-telling. It would start out simple. Perhaps by inviting them to Third-Round Knockout to listen and discuss the stories told by Tian. Before long the conversation would extend beyond stories and trail into whatever topic of interest had come up. Soon after that meeting for tea would lead into long walks around Liyue, and then taking turns inviting each other to their homes for dinner. Zhongli is the perfect gentleman out of habit, and I have no doubt he would unintentionally win his SO’s heart before they even started officially courting. It would all culminate at Lanturn Rite when they would pluck up the courage to give him a kiss on the cheek right as the fireworks went off. It was the first and only evening where Zhongli didn’t escort them back to their abode before returning to his. 

Zhongli didn’t leave his apartment for a few days as he took considerable thought into evaluating his relationship with them and whether he wanted to reciprocate their affections that seemed rather obvious in hindsight. A few days later, his SO would start the day with a knock at their door. They would open it to see a young man holding a large bouquet of peonies and jasmine along with a gold-flaked letter. The man explained a gentleman had paid him handsomely to ensure both the flowers and letter reached them. They thanked the man profusely before taking both of the offerings inside. They opened the letter to reveal an invitation to dinner at the Pearl Gallery the following evening as well as a VIP pass to allow them to board. They didn’t want to get their hopes up, but they only knew one man that would write a dinner invitation in golden ink. They may have called off work and dipped into their savings to buy a new outfit that would look somewhat appropriate to wear to such an exquisite and up-scale establishment. The next day they spent hours getting ready, unaware that Zhongli was doing the same. When they were admitted onto the Pearl Gallery they were shocked to find the venue entirely empty, except for Zhongli. Their mouth went dry when they saw he had exchanged his regular outfit for an obsidian black overcoat and a white waistcoat. Gold details were everywhere, from the buttons to the intricately detailed dragon that coiled over the coat’s shoulder and trailed down the sides. The outfit itself only drew attention to Zhongli’s eyes, which would have fooled a master jeweler into thinking they were the finest of polished amber. Little did they know Zhongli was twice as smitten. It was hard to tell in the low-light, but his normally immaculate composure was stained with blushing cheeks and dilated pupils. Nevertheless, he quickly rose to his feet and greeted his date with a short but passionate kiss on the back of their hand. They were escorted to their seat just as a waiter arrived to confirm their order. The meal was accompanied by an immaculate performance by the Yun-Han opera troupe. The night was magnificent, and any lingering doubts were dispelled on both sides. 

“We are in luck the moon has hidden itself tonight, for I fear your beauty might cause it to crumble in envy.”

“You flatter me so sweetly qīn qīn. I dare say it would only take a single word from you to bring the moon back to its senses.”

As the show came to a close, Zhongli escorted them off the boat and back to their house. Upon reaching the door, Zhongli presented them with an ornate box. As is tradition, he had elected to select a courting gift in order to officially declare his advances. They cautiously lifted the lid and gasped when they saw the ornate golden necklace nestled within. Zhongli didn’t get to finish his courtship proposal because they broke down in tears halfway through it. 

Zhongli is someone who would see being in a committed relationship as only a half-step down from marriage. Once the feelings are there, acknowledged, and reciprocated in full, he doesn’t hold back. From the beginning of his relationship with his SO, he fits in seamlessly with their life. They never go grocery shopping alone again, and Celestia forbid they even consider carrying the bags. They are given gifts on a weekly, if not bi-weekly basis. Everything from exotic teas to priceless jewelry that they always wore out when they knew they would be seeing Zhongli. However, there’s one last hurdle. Zhongli’s true identity. It took some time, but eventually he managed to arrange a trip to Jueyan Karst under the guise of a “sight-seeing visit”. When he showed them his true form, they fainted. Zhongli was glad he managed to catch them on his tail and carefully brought them to his nest. They woke up surrounded by dragon and nearly fainted again before Zhongli transformed back. It was only after expressing his sincerity and desire to spend the rest of their life together (He wanted to ease them into the idea of immortality over time. After all, they were still young. He would accept the risk of waiting instead of forcing their hand). They would ask for a few days to think about it, which would make Zhongli incredibly anxious but he would accept it. And when they met him at their usual table at Third-Round Knockout and started talking like nothing had ever happened while carefully placing their hand over his, he is filled with a contentment that he hasn’t felt since before the Archon War. 

(Please excuse the detail, this man does things to me. Especially when I think of him in a black suit)

GAMING

I 10000% see this little cinnamon roll as someone who would marry their childhood crush. He just radiates cute boy next door vibes and I absolutely live for that. Gaming probably has the most normal understanding and expectations of relationships out of all the males in Genshin, so nothing crazy here. He’s had a few crushes and gone on one or two dates. Since moving to Liyue he’s tried to move on, but for some reason no one makes him feel the same way as his friend back home does. No one’s smile seems quite as bright, no one’s laughter as pleasing to hear. Gaming has even caught himself composing letters to them and imagining what they would think of the various sights in Liyue when he’s supposed to be on duty. Gaming just wants a partner who will cheer him on during his Wushu dances and let him take them out for dim sum afterwards. A complete and total sweetheart. 

What Gaming didn’t know he wanted in a significant other was someone that didn’t just show-up to his performances and ate dim sum with him, but someone who would actively encourage and help him with all aspects of his life. Someone who would secretly maintain and fix his equipment while he was out at work. Someone who would make and pass out flyers for his performances. Someone who tries their best to improve their cooking skills so they don't end up blowing so much mora on eating out. Upon finding out everything his SO is doing for him, Gaming would practically pounce on them and drown them in kisses and cuddles, praising them endlessly for being so sweet and kind to him.

Gaming seems the type to develop a crush early in his childhood and never let it go. I can vividly picture six year-old Gaming picking a few flowers from his family’s garden even if he’s not supposed to, offering them, and asking shyly if they want to go see the Wushou dancers with him. But after he practically ran away from home, he didn’t send letters or keep in touch out of fear of what they would think of his choices. It hurt a lot, but a clean break seemed like the best idea at the time. It wasn’t until a few years later he encountered them again. Maybe they came to Liyue for business, or he ran into them by chance while on the job, but either way it was an unexpected reunion. Gaming freezes initially, not quite sure what they’re reaction to seeing him again will be. When they almost run up to him and give him a hug, he’s quick to squeeze them back and he has to stop himself from twirling them around like he did when they were kids. 

It wouldn’t take long once the two started hanging out together again for Gaming to realize the feelings he had for them hadn’t lessened at all, and now that he was an adult, he was finally able to give the feelings their accurate name. Gaming’s confession would depend on his SO’s circumstances. If they had a responsibility/career that took up a lot of their time, or were still in the process of getting over a past partner, he would wait as long as he thought was necessary for them to be ready to consider him a partner. If there was no obstacle, he would wait just long enough to plan a surprise romantic outing (probably a picnic) where he would put on a private Wushou dance for them before confessing his feelings. Upon his SO’s acceptance, he would simultaneously give the most hesitant but eager kiss of all time. 

From there Gaming would be the most attentive boyfriend of all time. Any sign of affection or gift given must be repaid tenfold; they gave him a quick peck on the cheek? Gaming stops whatever he was doing to smother them in kisses. They still have dinner warm and ready for him when he comes home late? Tomorrow you’re both going to Third-Round Knockout for several courses of dim-sum. He frequently brought home little snacks and trinkets he had picked up at some point during the day. Even when his partner scolded him about his spending habits. Marriage seemed like a distant prospect, but every time Gaming passed by Mingxing jewelry or ran into a newly-wed couple, the idea of seeing a ring on their hand grew ever more tantalizing. But they were young, and Gaming could hear his Nai Nai’s voice in the back of his head lecturing him on proper etiquette and timing.

XINGQIU

This boy has all of the set up to be an anime character, (and not just because he looks like Ciel from Black Butler) specifically a school slice-of-life. Son of a powerful family who prefers to practice the art of the sword and read than deal with his family’s business. And is another character that would forever have a crush on his childhood sweetheart. Only, he would remain oblivious to the true nature of his feelings until someone hit him over the head with the truth. Probably Chongyun. With his claymore. While Xingqiu was always raised with the expectation that he would marry a lady of high status in order to uphold his family’s honor, from what I’ve seen of him and his family I think they would be willing to look past that if Xingqiu was truly in love. Outside of his family’s expectations of what kind of person he should marry, Xingqiu would desperately want an SO who didn’t see his hobbies as a distraction from his duties, but as a part of him.

What Xingqiu didn’t know he wanted in an SO was someone practical. Someone who would make sure to have a stash of snacks hidden so whenever they managed to escape their handlers, they could hide for more than a few hours. Or paid off one of the managers of the bookhouse to set certain books aside to make sure Xingqiu never missed an issue of his favorite series. His favorite was when they had set up a picnic on a cliff adjoining Yujing Terrance with an entire dinner spread, cushions, and books for them to sneak off to when he was supposed to be attending a gala hosted by the Qingxing in the terrace below.  

His SO would most likely be a fellow bookworm that he met at the publishing house. Being one of the few people unattached from his family and their business Xingqiu often found himself sneaking out to spend as much time with them as possible. This evolved into him dragging them and Chongyun around on his little adventures around Liyue. As he grew up and came into greater conflicts involving his future place in the family, they would be his anchor. A steady rock that reminded Xingqiu of his best memories, and why he chose to study the Guhua Arts in the first place. He wanted to be able to protect them from anything. 

As mentioned previously, it would take a hot minute for Xingqiu to recognize the feelings he was experiencing were more than friendly. It's only after Chongyun flat out says to him that he talks about them more than anyone else and should ask them out that Xingqiu figures it out. Once Xingqiu does realize how much he loves them, you bet this chivalrous, manga-reading nerd would come up with the most romantic proposal (to ask them on a date) that you can possibly imagine. Flowers, chocolates, the sun going down in the background, the whole nine yards. 

If they accept his romantic proposal Xingqiu would immediately get down on one knee after, summon his sword, and swear an oath of fealty. Promising them his sword and servitude whenever they require it. Dates would vary depending on Xingiu and his SO’s mood; sometimes they would feel like taking advantage of the Feiyun’s reserved table at Xinyue Kiosk whenever they were too tired to plan something, they might meet up in the early hours of the morning to go to the docks and watch the fisherman unload their hauls while the sun paints Liyue Harbor in orange and gold, or is Xingqiu’s SO has some kind of training in a weapon or fighting, they might take the day to explore the routes around Liyue Harbor and kill any hilichurls or slimes that were straying too close to the main road. This would continue until both Xingqiu and his SO were adults, and both of their families began putting pressure on them to marry. After years of steady dating, marriage doesn’t seem like a daunting milestone or a grand occasion, because they are already fully committed to each other and have been for years. Their families spend months planning the marriage ceremony, inviting important officials and families from all over Teyvat, only for both of them to disappear halfway through the reception. The happy couple was found at Wanmin Restaurant the next morning, passed out at a table on top of each other with a book sitting half open in their laps.

[eddiegettingshot]

Tbh I was radicalized this summer when you said we have progressed past the need for eddie therapy spec and fics. i havent read a single one since and probably wont again and my life has been so peaceful since… he literally does not need that. He just needs to feel secure and open with his feelings, needs to let people love him fully, and maybe some grief counselling/a support group to go to occasionally. If frank was going to help with that he would have in s3. (no offence to people who write/read therapy fics Im sure they are wonderful and profound and frank is actually good at his job in them)

helpppp good. thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about my beloathed therapy eddie because i think it’s so so so funny that after 8x06 the predictable response was that eddie needs to go to therapy. which i feel like there are soooo many things happening on both the character and the story level. like what’s funny is that frank really could not be a good therapist on screen because that’s not interesting tv. i’m not a therapist but i imagine that in fear-o-phobia he should have probably like. worked with eddie to decide on who he’d try to contact, figure out how the conversation might go, work on coping strategies, etc. but obviously eddie had to blow up. it’s funny because all of the other presumably “good” work frank does is completely off screen. because it’s uninteresting. so eddie wouldn’t have the kind of therapy arc people think he should have anyway, it’s quite literally just something people demand because they need a virtue signal that eddie is “trying” (and of course therapy is the only picture of “trying to heal”). the fact that he’s growing and dealing with stuff outside of therapy is like, not acceptable i guess? i think it’s also funny that as far as fic goes eddie is pretty much always in therapy but it is truly once in a blue moon that we see buck or really any other character talk about therapy.

anyway on the character level. obviously people who relate to eddie’s experience might find therapy really useful but i am not talking about real people i’m talking about a character who is fake. something that is very funny and interesting to me is that in the fear-o-phobia scene eddie is pretty much being resistant and mean and a bitch the whole time but when frank says “you can’t put all your feelings in a box eddie because someday it’ll blow up” and eddie literally already knows what’s going on (“…and take me with it”). actually eddie pretty much always knows what’s going on when he’s having issues it’s just he packs it all down. so seeing a character like this do the internal pathologized work of therapy with just. A Therapist. is… soooo boring to me. it’s funny because i do think frank was right. like in the end i think it’s sort of indicated that eddie is not only feeling this survivor’s guilt/pointlessness but that he also fears he’s going to end up like all the other people who share his pain. so he does need that sort of external pathway to dealing with his issues, like… exactly what you said… leaning on the people in his life… loving them and letting them love him… perhaps a support group or volunteering or whatever… in terms of an actual story these things are soooo much cooler and more fun than what therapy stuff can offer eddie specifically (like… strategies? identifying various cognitive distortions? idk). because he’s already a character who’s always in his head… it’s so much better. To Me. to see him work through things in other ways. such as by talking to a gay priest.

[cr0wc0rpse]

I wish I could call this place and ask “Hey can you be totally honest with me. Are you a queer friendly store? Will you look at me weird if I enter your store and seem a bit faggy? Be real with me please” because I would like to know before I decide to go

[scatteredcloud]

> “Yeah I just didn’t like the way smoking weed made me feel”

> feeling any emotional pain

> “god I wish I had some weed”

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!

[fingertipsmp3]

I never leave mlm groups I get invited to on fb, and I’m sure the people who start the groups are really annoyed and confused by why I stay despite never contributing or buying anything, but the thing is I just find it so interesting to observe how these people peddle their wares

[euthymiya]

Sukuna who never was close to his twin brother and never cared about the pipsqueak runt of a kid who’s his nephew.

He doesn’t care and doesn’t want to be associated with that bullshit. His brother doesn’t take the hint ever and invites him to everything. “My sons’s birthday party” this and “my son’s kindergarten graduation” that. What sort of graduation is meant for a kindergartener anyway? That’s a load of nonsense. But Jin is as annoying as ever with insisting on keeping contact and trying to get Sukuna involved and he hates it until by some tragedy out of nowhere, his brother and sister and law are dead. Yuuji’s left an orphan and no one can care for that kid because there’s no one left.

No one except Sukuna.

They ask him, too. The social workers. They turn to him and say some pitiful script about being “the only family left to take custody of him.” He knows pretty well what’s going to happen to the pipsqueak if he doesn’t agree. The foster care system and the possible horrors such a bright (even if annoying) kid could face makes him question saying no for a second. He’s surprisingly conflicted.

And it’s out of sheer impulsiveness alone does he end up as a single, grumpy, begrudging uncle who’s got custody of a child he never really cared to know in the first place.

And then he meets you.

Sweet, bubbly, warm, and so weirdly happy. Dictionary definition of what an elementary school teacher should be. Yuuji’s absolute favorite person on the planet as he waves hello at you enthusiastically every time that Sukuna drops him off and goodbye every time that Sukuna picks him up.

“I heard his new guardian would be his uncle. It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur to him the first day he picks up Yuuji after school, a look of pure melancholy on your face as you stare at him with an unearthly amount of compassion and sympathy. “Yuuji’s parents were wonderful people. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t that close with either of them,” he grunts out. You look over at where Yuuji’s gleefully playing on the slide of the playground. Too young and innocent to realize that’s been ripped away from him. Too naive to understand what it means to grieve. Too hopeful about the world around him to realize just how cruel it can really be.

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

He thinks that your unnaturally kind demeanor will finally be broken for a split second of judgement. What sort of heartless bastard doesn’t feel an ounce of grief for his own brother’s death? Instead, however, you seem to look at him with some weird sense of wonder.

“You’re a good uncle for stepping up regardless,” you say softly, “it’s more than what most would do in your shoes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he clicks his teeth, unbearably uncomfortable with how weirdly sentimental this all is. “He’s just a five year old. How much trouble could he be?”

You raise a brow in amusement, eyeing him like he’s got one hell of a surprise waiting for him. He doesn’t like the vague way you hum, “Yeah. How could such a little human cause trouble, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” he grumbles, a little annoyed that you seem to think that out of all things, a simple child would be enough to cause Sukuna any issues.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you smile.

Yuuji calls to you from the distance, squealing look what I can do! before he does a rather clumsy spin. Sukuna raises an unimpressed brow. You clap and praise him with an exaggerated gasp of approval.

It’s oddly endearing, he thinks to himself—you, not the kid. The kid’s barely tolerable.

“C’mon, you brat,” Sukuna calls. And then he looks at you and gruffly adds, “And I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” you grin brightly. It almost feels like you’re saying that a little sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ve got this parent thing down.”

Before he can even correct you that he’s an uncle, not parent, Yuuji comes running over on clumsy, short little legs and grabs onto Sukuna’s hand.

“C’mon, Uncle ‘Kuna!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften. Weirdly enough, he feels this odd sort of squeeze in his chest that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s just getting old—that has to be it.

[itneverendshere]

LOOKIN' LIKE MOTIVATION - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT. pairing: sports physical therapist!reader x hockey player!rafe; friends to lovers.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud. 

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you. 

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made.

And he made a lot of those. 

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury.

You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan.

“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots.

It was refreshing. 

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain.

It was from trying to resist the need to say something that might actually cross the line.

But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes keen, watching your reaction.

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s.

Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard.

“Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. That look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.” 

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical. 

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year in college.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about.

Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you chastised, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, m’focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you. 

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise.

He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful.

It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, he couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend.”

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, then adding most absolute out of pocket suggestion. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, biting his tongue not to add the unfortunately’. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to ignore how much your rejection hurt his feelings.

"No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing straighter. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a earth shattering smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But he was hard to read when he wanted to be. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

 “Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting.

Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

 “Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And he had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up.

The words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest did that stupid thing where it almost stopped. Not in a good way.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“C’mon sweetheart, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know.

Protectiveness instantly swelled inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden from you, saved it for the ice. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words trapped in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back started to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. The kind of emotion he only felt when his team was being robbed by referees or losing.

He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you pleaded quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe rebutted, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made you want to cry even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted. He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently held your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he reassured you, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, not giving you a chance to doubt yourself again. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand slowly rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes practically glazed with love sickness as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant peck to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away.

He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone.

But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened. He could wait. He’d wait forever for you.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice.

As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety started to mess with your head. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

You were going to miss him.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point.

But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart. 

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“Y’know sweetheart,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the not so subtle excitement in his tone.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal.

He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step. A friend maybe.

 “I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze. 

“I’m just doing my job,” you shook your head, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you admitted, unable to keep your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing like a school girl. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate. 

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply. 

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on. 

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue. 

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

 But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more. 

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch. 

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back. 

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach. 

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.” 

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair. 

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

 "Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath. 

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge. 

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. 

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world. 

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. 

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

 "God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

 "Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out. 

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged. 

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it. 

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of." 

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

 The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

 "Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan. 

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high. 

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

 "You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you. 

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you, drowning in affection. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: No Hesitation

Request: From anonymous: “I had an idea for Tyler Owens!! I feel like Tyler would be the type of guy that if a girl came up to him and said ‘this guy is creepy, pls pretend to be my bf’ he would be like ‘hell yay’ and scare the guy away without making the girl uncomfortable?? Maybe you could do a scenario like that with reader?? Thank youuu!!! Lots of love!!”

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: guys.... i'm down bad for tyler owens, pls send help (or requests so i can keep writing about him). anywayyy, enjoy!

“You comin’ T?” Boone asked as he peered into Tyler’s motel room. 

Tyler glanced up from where he sat on the edge of his creaky, double mattress and nodded. “Yeah, I just need to grab a shirt that doesn’t smell like pig shit.”

“Good luck with that,” Boone chuckled. “We haven't done laundry in almost three weeks– just about everything in my bag smells like pig shit.”  

“Maybe it’s time we popped home for a bit,” Tyler muttered as he continued digging through his bag. Finally, he pulled out an unused, plain, T-shirt that had been folded at the bottom of his duffel. “What kind of place is this, Boone?” he asked as he pulled the shirt over his head. 

“Just a bar, man. Nothin’ fancy. They got darts though, and a pool table. Which, by the way, I bet you fifty bucks I can smoke you at.”

“Boone, you don’t even have fifty bucks,” Tyler replied, shaking his head. He stood up from the bed and joined his friend in the hallway, shutting his motel room door behind him. 

“Do too,” Boone said defensively as they began walking towards the parking lot to join the rest of the team. 

“Oh you mean the fifty bucks I gave you to get the van’s oil changed last week? Which now I’m assuming you never did–” 

“An honest mistake,” Boone said, putting his hands up in surrender. “They were closed the day you gave it to me, then I’ll be honest, I forgot about it. But my point is, beat me at pool and that money is yours again.” 

“I don’t want the money to be mine again, I want the van to get an oil change.”

“Well you get your fifty bucks back and you can use it for whatever you’d like– oil change included.”

Tyler shook his head, knowing there was no use arguing with his friend. 

“What’re you two love birds arguing about now?” Lilly asked. She was perched on the hood of Tyler’s truck looking at footage she’d taken from her drone earlier in the day. 

“T’s too scared to play me in pool,” Boone answered before Tyler could. 

“Aw,” Lilly said teasingly. “Nothin’ to be scared of. We’ll still love ya, even if Boone kicks your ass.”

“Yeah, T,” Dani added from the front seat of the van. They had the door kicked open and their feet resting out the rolled down window. “There’s no shame in losin’. Only in never trying.”

“I oughta just leave the lot of you behind. Me and Dexter can take things from here. Isn’t that right, Dex?”

“Sure,” Dexter said casually. “But I’ll have you know I can also beat your ass at pool.”

“Unbelievable,” Tyler muttered to himself. “Who’s ridin’ with me?”

Lilly and Boone’s hands shot up. “Shotgun,” Boone announced. 

“You always get shotgun,” Lilly muttered as she climbed into the backseat of his truck. 

“We’ll meet you guys there,” Dani said as they pulled their feet into the van and started it up. Dexter climbed into the passenger seat and then the group of them were off. 

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the bar Boone had been going on about all day. He insisted they served the best chicken wings in all of Tulsa. Tyler would be the judge of that. 

The parking lot was relatively full– but not surprisingly so for a Saturday night. 

“If you have more than three drinks, you’re ridin’ back with Dani, you understand?” Tyler said to Boone as the five of them walked into the bar together. “I’m not havin’ you get sick in my truck for a second time.”

“Whatever you say, Dad,” Boone said sarcastically. “I’m gonna mark my territory at the pool table– let ‘em know we’re next. Grab me whatever’s on tap, will ya?”

He didn’t even wait for Tyler’s confirmation before darting off, Dani and Dexter on his tail. 

Meanwhile, Tyler and Lilly made their way to the bar to order for everyone else. “Man, he’s full of it today,” he muttered once they reached the counter. 

“Yeah, well. We’re all a little restless,” Lilly admitted. “It’s been a long few weeks without much action. Boone’s kinda like a puppy. Except instead of walks he needs adrenaline rushes and excessive fun. Tonight’ll be good for him.” 

Tyler chuckled as he turned to check where the bartender was at. Except, as soon as he did, his elbow collided with the person beside him. 

“Sorry–” he said quickly, eyes wandering down. 

His words caught in his mouth at the sight of an unfamiliar, but beautiful girl. You were gazing back up at him with equal surprise, mouth hung open slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

“That’s okay,” you answered quickly. “I was standin’ too close.” 

“No other way to really do it in here it seems,” he said. 

You smiled sweetly. “I know– it’s never this busy here, even on the weekends.”

“You come here a lot?” he asked, just trying to keep the conversation going. 

“I wouldn’t say a lot, but enough. Any time I have a hankering for some wings.”

Tyler adjusted his body so that he was facing you entirely now. He was boxing Lilly out– but she’d understand. Especially after she got a look at how gorgeous you were. “You know, my buddy said they were good. I didn’t entirely believe him. But if you say so…”

“You’re gonna trust a total stranger over your buddy?” you asked teasingly. 

Tyler tilted his head to the side. “If you met my buddy, you’d understand why. You know we’re all gonna play some pool in a bit if you wanted to–”

“Hey Y/N, there you are!” Tyler heard someone say, cutting him off. He watched as your head snapped around. A man– tall with broad shoulders and black hair, was pushing through the crowd towards you. 

“I gotta go,” you said to Tyler quickly, instantly causing his shoulders to fall. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbled. He turned back towards the bar to avoid seeing you reunite with who he supposed was probably your boyfriend. 

“Don’t sweat it, T,” Lilly said, clapping him on the back. “You’ll get the next one.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, kicking himself for letting himself get his hopes up over a stupid, two minute conversation. 

Once he and Lilly got everyone’s drinks, the pair of them made their way back towards the pool table which Boone had successfully taken over. No time was wasted before Boone was insisting the pair play. 

To Tyler’s absolute dismay– he really did suck. 

He lost three games in a row before finally calling it quits. He opted to sit at a high top table with Dexter, watching Lilly and Boone compete instead. 

Tyler was just about to throw down the last of his beer when suddenly, he felt an arm loop through his.  He turned to tell who he assumed was Dani, that they’d had way too much to drink, but before he could, a voice (that certainly didn't match Dani’s) rang out. 

“Hi baby, there you are!”  

Dexter, who was sitting across from Tyler, glanced at him surprised. 

Tyler looked to his left and locked eyes with the same girl from the bar earlier. Except now, she was gazing at Tyler desperately. Without warning and before Tyler could even react, you leaned closer to him. 

In a hurried whisper, you spoke so that only Tyler could hear. “There’s a guy over there. I keep asking him to, but he won’t leave me alone– can you just pretend to know me so that he’ll go away?”

Then, you press your lips to the side of Tyler’s cheek quickly, like it was a gesture the two of you had shared thousands of times. You continued holding on to his arm, your eyes wildly trying to communicate how terrified you clearly were, as you looked pleadingly at him to help you. 

Tyler’s face broke out into a huge grin as he, with absolutely no hesitation, took on the role of boyfriend for a complete stranger. He wiggled his arm out of your grasp and instead wound it around your waist, pulling you tightly into his side. 

You were taken aback by how secure and safe you suddenly felt. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Tyler replied.  He could visibly see the look of relief that washed over your face once you realized he had decided to play along. 

Tyler tugged at your hip, indicating that he wanted you to lean in closer. You took his hint and tilted your head towards him.  

“Which guy is it?” he asked discreetly. 

“Red shirt, black hair,” you mumbled quietly. It was only then that you notice the other man sharing the table with your rescuer. You offered him an apologetic smile, hoping that he was intuitive enough to pick up on the cues you’d been dropping.  

Next you noticed the rest of his group scattered around the pool table. Initially, they were in the middle of a game when you came over, but now, their attention had shifted. You glanced at the beautiful girl with tanned skin and long, braided hair, holding a pool stick. She offered you a small, but cautious smile. You hoped it wasn’t her boyfriend you were currently draped over.  Then, there’s another guy– with messy black hair topped with an old, worn ball cap. He had a confused look on his face, but when the girl leaned over and whispered something in his ear, his eyes lit up in understanding. 

The man you were clinging to rubbed your hip bone gently with his thumb. The sensation sent sparks across the entire surface of your skin. You wondered if he even realized he was doing it.  

You’d seen him at the bar earlier and had gotten a good, gut feeling about his demeanor. He seemed genuine and kind– even though you’d only managed about a two minute conversation with him before the man who’d been following you around all night came back. It wasn’t until after you darted off that you realized you should have just explained what was going on right then and there. 

You’d realized he was handsome earlier, but this was the first time you’d gotten a good look at him up close, now that your nerves had calmed down and you felt like you were able to breathe again. You wanted to give yourself a pat on the back, because it seemed like you’d chosen the best looking man in the entire bar, if not world, to be your pretend boyfriend. He had distinct features– a strong jaw, tanned skin, and eyes so green, it made you feel like spring was blooming. His brows were furrowed into a firm line as he scoured the bar nonchalantly, looking for the man who had led you to him. You felt grateful that this complete stranger cared enough to help you out.  

“That him?” he asked, nodding in the direction he wanted you to look. 

You turned your head and watched in dismay as the creepy man from earlier approached. 

“Shit– yes.”

“I got ya, don’t worry,” he murmured gently. “Can I help you?” he asked, turning once the man was within earshot. 

He stopped in his tracks, eyes glued to you. “I was jus’ lookin’ for her,” the man said, words slurring together. 

“And what use do you have for my girlfriend?” he challenged, grip around your waist tightening. 

“Sorry man– she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend.”

“But she did tell you to leave her alone, right?”

“Yeah, jus’ thought she was playin’ hard to get. You know how these girls can be–”

“No, I don’t actually,” Tyler said. “I think if she said leave her alone… you should probably leave her alone.”

The man put his hands up in surrender. “Easy man, I didn’t mean any harm by it. Like I said, I didn’t realize she was taken.”

“I don’t think you’re getting it–” Tyler said, standing up from his chair to face the man. You were surprised by how cold you felt without his hand around your waist. 

“You don’t get to just choose to respect her now that you know she has a boyfriend.” 

“You tryin’ to start something here, man?” The guy narrowed his beady eyes. 

“Why? You offerin?” Tyler took another step forward, anger surging in his chest faster than he anticipated.  

“Might be,” the man said, meeting Tyler halfway. The two were face to face now– things were escalating. 

But before things could get out of hand, the guy from behind the pool table hurried over. “Easy, T–” he placed a hand on his shoulder before facing the guy. “Why don’t you just back off, man? Get outta here.”

“Yeah, c’mon–” two more people from his group stepped forward. Like a small army, you thought. All stepping up to protect you– a total stranger. 

There was a brief moment where the man studied the scene before him. Then, like he realized that taking on the four people defending you was a bad idea, he backed off. 

“Whatever, she’s not worth it anyway,” he said, throwing you one, final nasty glare before turning and stalking off. 

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until you saw him walk out the front door. Only when it snapped shut behind him were you able to exhale a shaky sigh.  

That guy’s been following me all night. I thought I could handle it, but then he got really mad when I wouldn’t let him give me a drink,” you said shakily. 

“What a creep,” one of them said. 

“Thank you so much–” you said, utterly relieved. Then, you introduced yourself to the table of people you’d abruptly intruded upon. 

“Don’t mention it, glad we could help. I’m Tyler.” 

The others had gathered around the table now and each introduced themselves as well. 

“You were right to trust your gut,” Dani said, offering you a reassuring nod. 

“Yeah, who knows what that creep might’ve stuck in your drink.”

You shivered at the thought. 

“Well, I guess I’m glad I crashed your table then,” you smiled, turning to Tyler. For more than one reason, you thought, taking in the sweet laughter lines around his eyes and full lips. You caught yourself staring and forcibly looked away. You weren’t even drunk, but Tyler made your head spin.  

“Anyways, I should go,” you said quickly. You had to remind yourself of the circumstances.  You’d practically mauled Tyler in front of his friends and forced him to get into a brawl in the middle of the bar. And no matter how breathtakingly attractive you found him, there was no denying the fact that this entire situation was awkward and uncomfortable. You cleared your throat. “I’m really sorry for intruding, thank you again.”  

Tyler was still entirely dumbstruck, even as you walked away. It was like his brain couldn’t keep up with whatever the hell just happened. He watched as you disappeared through the crowd of people. 

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Dani spoke up.  

“Huh?” Tyler turns towards them. 

“She was into you, Tyler.”

He wasn’t sure he heard them right. The bar was loud and Tyler’s mind wasn’t working properly tonight, thanks to you and whatever perfume you’d been wearing. 

Lilly nodded her head in agreement, “And if I had to guess by the drool on your chin, I’d say you were into her too.” 

Feeling a little ganged up on, Tyler just stares at his team in disbelief. “I don’t– I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boone shook his head and chuckled as he walked back towards the pool table. “Man, I have never– in our entire ten years of friendship, seen a girl leave Tyler Owens speechless– this one might be special folks,” Boone chuckled. 

“Go after her, you dummy,” Lilly said. 

“And do what?” Tyler asked. 

Dani scoffed, “Talk to her– invite her back to the table– literally anything but let her just walk away, you idiot.”

Slightly offended, but more motivated, Tyler stood up from the table and finally took the last sip of his beer. It was warm, but he used it as a final attempt at some liquid courage, before striding off after you. The crowd of people was thick, but he was confident that no matter where you were, you’d stand out.  

Sure enough, he spotted you across the bar. You had left your glass on the counter and were currently shifting through your bag, looking for something. Tyler took a deep breath before walking over.  

He called your name, which he was proud to now know, causing you to look up from your things.  

“Tyler, hey,” you said, unable to hide the surprised smile that crept across your face.  

“So that was pretty weird, huh–” Tyler tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but all he did was realize how dry his mouth was. 

You bit your lip, “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make it weird– I just– I was scared. He was so creepy, and you just looked like you’d make a good fake date…” 

Oh my god, what were you saying? You were rambling, like you always did when you were nervous. You took another sip of your drink, wishing it was something stronger. 

But a smirk crept up on Tyler’s face, like he could tell you were floundering. 

“Oh yeah?” His voice was playful. “And how do you think I’d be as a real date?”

Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach as you clenched down on your jaw, trying to play it cool. But it was hard to remain casual when you were pretty sure Tyler was asking you out. 

Your voice was hitched slightly higher than normal when you responded, “I think I’d like to find out sometime.”

Tyler flashed his white teeth in a stunning smile before nodding back towards the table he’d just come from. “How about we start now? I got a hankering for some wings, what do you say I get us a plate to share?”

With no hesitation, you reached for his outstretched hand. 

“Should we eat before or after I kick your ass at pool?” you smiled sweetly. 

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ''what are we?' with skz

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff and a little angst and a lot of uncertainties

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: in honor of 'i like it' , i think this is a very fitting first post lmao

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - “whatever you’d like us to be.”

He smiles, and you swear it lights up the whole room. Sweet, considerate Chan who never wanted to make you uncomfortable by rushing into things. The man you’ve been seeing for months now that didn’t put a label on your relationship just to give you space and time to sort out whatever else was going on in your life. The one who’s been there for you even if he didn’t have to, especially since you weren’t official, or anything at all.

The best man you could ever ask for.

That’s why, the next action feels like the most natural one.

Taking a deep breath, you return his smile and lean forward, resting your forehead on his. He stares deeply into your eyes, mesmerizing you with their beauty while his smile never falters.

“Then, would you do me the pleasure of being my boyfriend?”

Chan can’t help but chuckle, swiftly grabbing you by the waist to set you in his lap before pecking your lips. “It would be my honor, baby.”

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - “you tell me.”

Looks you dead in the eyes, with one eyebrow raised defiantly, the food he prepared and laid out nicely suddenly forgotten. This wasn’t the answer you were expecting. However, it’s such a Lee Minho one that you can’t even be surprised for more than a moment. Shuffling in your seat, you clear your throat before complying, all caution out the window.

“You’re my boyfriend. Only mine.”

Minho nods slowly just like a cat, his doe eyes never leaving yours as he continues to give you his undivided attention. “Alright. So then, what are we?”

You watch him, trying to understand what exactly he wants to hear right now. Your answer rests on the tip of your tongue yet, you hesitate, not knowing if he shares your feelings on the matter. He’s always been a complicated man, not giving anything away.

What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

You take a deep breath. “We are…lovers. A couple.”

This causes Minho’s smile to return, eyes twinkling again as he finally pushes a plate of food in your direction. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - “whatever we are, I like it.”

Changbin shrugs, bringing you closer to his chest by the arm he wrapped around your shoulders. The movie on the tv serves as background noise as your feelings threaten to overwhelm you, ready to take you down a well-known path of overthinking. What does that even mean?

Does that mean that he likes you? Loves you? Dislikes you with every fibre of his being but is too comfortable to say it? Usually, you would appreciate Changbin’s laid-back nature but now, it only makes you feel worse.

Why do relationships have to be so complicated? With him by your side, you thought it would be all smooth sailing but it looks like that isn’t the case.

“Y/n?” He asks, tearing his eyes away from the screen. “Is everything okay?”

His concern seems real, but is it really? Or is it just an act meant to have you fall even deeper in love with him? At this point, you don’t even know.

Shaking your head, you hide your face in the crock of his neck, choosing to ignore your screaming mind in favour of basking in his affection just for a while longer.

“Yeah, things are great.”

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - “is this your way of asking me to make it official?”

Ever the hopeless romantic, Hyunjin gives you the sweetest smile, the sight making your heart beat faster. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to make things official with Hwang Hyunjin. But, would he want that or is he just playing with you? Your concerns seem unreasonable since he isn’t that kind of person but you never know.

“And what if it is?”

The smile turns cocky, resembling a smirk more than anything. “So, you like me?”

You giggle to hide your growing embarrassment and nerves. “I mean, I’m sure you know the answer to that question.”

He fakes ignorance, looking at you with big, puppy eyes that still pull at your heartstrings. Hyunjin knows all the buttons he needs to push to get you wherever he wants.

“Nope. Do tell.”

Without missing a beat, you say exactly what’s on your mind, wanting to pay him back for all the teasing by short-circuiting his brain.

“I love you.”

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - “Is that a rhetorical question? You genuinely want an answer?”

Poor baby has never been more flabbergasted in his entire life. What do you mean ‘what are we’?! This isn’t high school, and you aren’t kids, what are you even confused about? He’s always made himself as clear as possible when it came to your relationship.

“You’re my baby, the love of my life, what kind of question is that?”

You shrug, turning on your side to face him. “Be more specific, Sungie.”

His mouth falls open comically, and you do everything in your power to not burst out laughing at the sight.

“We’re literally laying in bed together right now. I said I love you less than five minutes ago.”

You move closer to rest your head on his sturdy chest. “Yeah, but what exactly ARE we?”

Jisung stares down at you without a word for a few moments, trying to understand if you’re fucking with him or not until he sees the beginning of a grin stretching across your face and scoffs, turning to face away from you.

“Go to bed, Y/n, I’m too tired for your nonsense.”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - “what do you want us to be?”

You’re greeted by big, hopeful eyes as Felix turns to look at you like you’ve got all the answers he’s ever sought for. Like you’re a genie that is capable of granting his every selfish wish. For him, you kind of are since your relationship pretty much marches to the beat of your own drum, with him just tagging along for the ride.

Felix would like to change that though – would love to just take matters into his own hands for once and answer your question with full confidence. But, he can’t. So, he throws the ball in your court again, wanting to avoid getting hurt.

You don’t answer right away, instead letting your head fall on his shoulder as you take your time to think his question over.

“How about…we try being more than friends?”

His face lights up instantly, buzzing with happiness at your proposal. Beaming, he nods before gently grabbing the back of your head to connect your lips in an eager kiss.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - “a mess.”

You’re expecting to see him smirking or even rolling his eyes at your question, however, once you turn around, none of those things happen. He’s just looking at you, face devoid of any emotion, and that’s when you realize that to him, this is serious. Seugmin isn’t playing around nor is he avoiding the subject – that is genuinely what he thinks on the matter. To him, whatever relationship you’ve developed, is a complete mess. If it’s a mess he enjoys or on the contrary, finds troublesome, is a question for another day.

“Well,” you begin, still taken aback by his blunt answer. “You’re my mess.”

This time, he does roll his eye, acting more annoyed than he actually is as you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and lean down to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Whose else would I be, dummy?” he shakes his head, voice uncharacteristically soft. Turning around in his seat, Seungmin moves to embrace you properly before burying his face in your soft hair.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - “you know what we are. You just want to hear me say it.”

You nod, taking another sip from your drink before releasing his hand. “Alright. Then say it.”

When he sees you stop in the middle of the crossroad, he follows, visibly confused. His hand moves to grab yours again, however, you pull away, shaking your head.

“Answer me properly, Jeongin.”

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to wrap his head around what’s suddenly gotten into you. Did you really want to have a conversation as serious as this here, out in the open? What was happening?

“I – “ He feels his whole face warm up, voice cracking and not allowing any other words to slip out. Jeongin knows what he wants to say, he’s had a whole speech prepared for a while now. But, being put on the spot like that has him freezing up so, he ends up giving a totally different answer, one that breaks both of your hearts simultaneously.

“We’re…” He pauses, looking down, “just friends, of course.”

The look on your face hurts so much, he almost doubles down in pain as you turn your back to him and walk away from his life, presumably for good. He has really screwed up this time.

[navybrat817]

Fall for Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he's good enough for you, but still wishes he could be your guy. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Longing, insecurities, "just friends" (for now), Steve is a good friend, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Friday Feels inspired by a nonnie.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a special kind of torture for Bucky to watch the person he loved flirt with someone else.

To be fair, he couldn't say for sure that you were flirting. Being friendly? Yes. You had a warm and welcoming personality, the kind he was drawn to the moment you two crossed paths months ago. One of the things he loved about you was how genuine you were. It was only natural that you pulled others in as well. Your compassion, charm, beauty, everything called to him.

You were the whole package, inside and out.

“What the hell am I doing here?” He muttered. He hadn't wanted to go to the bar, but Steve assured him it was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. Not a lot of patrons on a night like this. Somewhere no one would bother them. He added at the last second that you were going.

Bucky grabbed his leather jacket to go as soon as those words left Steve’s mouth.

Instead of having a drink with you like he wanted or just talking, he simmered in silence in a booth while you stood at the bar. He narrowed his eyes as the guy you were talking to moved an inch closer. A bit too close for his liking.

Steve said his name was Will. They had met each other at some point in passing. Short blonde hair and a trimmed beard. Ex-military, but still built like he had a war to fight. Behind the guy’s blue eyes lurked pain, guilt, and regret that most would miss due to his general stoic demeanor. Bucky could relate all too well to horrors that haunted even the strongest of men.

But when Will looked at you, his eyes lit up. They held a sense of longing. Hope.

Once again, Bucky could relate all too well because that was how he looked at you.

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” Steve said, grabbing a beer from the bucket and setting it down in front of him. “Just talk to her.”

Bucky took a swig, but didn't take his eyes off you. He was afraid if he looked away that Will might convince you to leave with him. “Talk to her about what?”

His best friend sighed. “You know what.”

Steve knew how he felt about you. Talking about his feelings wasn't easy, but he had to tell his best friend. And it wasn't the first time Steve encouraged him to speak up. He said you had the right to know so the two of you could figure out how to move forward, whether as a couple or just friends, instead of dancing around it.

But how could Bucky admit how he felt when he didn't deserve someone like you?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“We're friends,” Bucky stated. The words tasted as bitter as the beer he sipped. No, not bitter. He couldn't feel that way just because he had a piece of you when he wanted all of you.

Was he selfish for that?

He nearly shattered the bottle in his hand when you giggled at whatever Will said. Something akin to jealousy settled in his chest and he had no right to feel that way. The two of you weren't together. You were single and didn't owe him a thing.

But he knows if you gave him a chance, he’d treat you well. Better than any other guy before him. He would do his best to make you happy. Maybe that wasn't enough.

“Will is a good guy, but he isn't you, Buck. You’re still one of the best guys I know,” Steve said.

“You don't have to kiss my ass, punk,” he muttered, immediately regretting it. He was only trying to help and God knows he had done more than enough for him over the years.

Steve shook his head. “And you don't have to feel sorry for yourself, jerk.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. Maybe he was. He was sorry for so many things.

As if you sensed his sadness, you looked over your shoulder and met his gaze. You smiled at him, the kind of smile that stole the very breath from his lungs and made his head spin. He wanted to believe it was a smile you reserved only for him. And the softness in your beautiful eyes, he imagined he could see his future in them.

Could you see the endless love he had for you in his?

His heart ached when you turned away and put your hand on Will’s arm. Of course, you were attracted to the guy. Why wouldn’t you be? The thought of you kissing him though, being intimate with him? He felt sick enough to finally look away.

Bucky glanced at his distorted reflection in the beer bottle. A long time ago, he would've called himself handsome. Not because he was full of himself, but because he knew himself then. He knew how to walk the line between confidence and cockiness. He was full of life and wonder once. Now the weight of his sins showed in how he carried himself.

Sins you never judged him for.

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

Steve nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was so lost in his mind that he hadn’t heard you call out to him. He should’ve known since you were the only one who called him Jamie. When he looked up from his seat, he saw that you were no longer standing next to Will as he was still at the bar. And there was nothing but concern in your gaze as you set your drink down on the table.

“What? What happened?” He asked, not smooth at all.

Your eyes flickered to Steve and then back at him. “I asked if you’re okay. You don’t look too well.”

“Not feeling so great,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. “This place…”

“Oh,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him. He inhaled, your sweet scent soothing the pain in his heart and making it race all at once. “Well, why don’t we head out? There’s no reason to stay if you don’t want to stay.”

He gently smiled. You were always willing to go with the flow and change plans if things ever got too loud or too much for him. “I’m fine. Besides, you just got your drink and you haven’t had a chance to play pool with Sam or Natasha,” he argued. He didn’t want to spoil your night.

You put your hand on his arm, but it seemed different than when you touched Will’s arm. This was tender, soothing. “If being here is making you uncomfortable, then I don’t feel like sticking around. They’ll understand. Steve, please, back me up on this.”

“She’s right. You two should go,” Steve said, conveniently leaving himself and the others out of the equation.

Bucky spared Will a glance, who was now talking to the guys he went into the bar with. He swallowed hard before the next words left his mouth. “What about your new friend?”

“You are my friend, Jamie,” you said. He winced inwardly at the reminder. Friends. You were just friends. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s just go. How about a movie at your place? Something low-key so you feel better.”

“You sure?” He asked, wondering just how eager he looked to leave with you.

“I’m sure,” you smiled, making his heart warm again.

“Okay. You convinced me,” he said. Not that it would’ve taken much. Your smile could bend the will of just about anyone.

“You know, I hear healthy conversations are also good to help people feel better,” Steve chimed in, earning an elbow to the side from Bucky.

You raised an eyebrow and slid out of the booth. “Yeah. Sure. Jamie and I can have a healthy conversation and you all enjoy the rest of the night.” You offered Bucky a hand to help him out. He didn’t want to let go. “C’mon. We have a movie waiting for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky teased, proud of himself when you giggled.

Steve gave him an optimistic smile and he couldn’t help but return it. He wasn’t sure if Will had given you his number or if you planned to see him, but maybe he’d take a chance and tell you he had fallen for you. Maybe, if he was lucky, you had fallen for him, too.

Just maybe.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be a thing? Did Will give you his number? Will Bucky say how he feels? What's going to happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Fantasy Villain

Imagine you’ve been transported to a DnD-Fantasy-like world. Quests, adventurers, and mystical beasts are everything you could dream of. You’ve already established your little troupe; becoming an important cornerstone of the group. Whatever your class, you’re excelling at they really rely on which is why things go badly when you meet him—-the recurring villain of this world.

“Oh my���oh my Zoth.”

“What? Do I horrify the little hero!?”

“No, you’re–”

“Worse than you imagined?”

“No, you’re–”

“(Y/n) stop freezing up!”

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met!”

The group is horrified as they plan a tactical retreat, finding it easier to thwart the Fantasy Villain’s attacks which are suddenly less frequent.  The group just assumes you’ve been enchanted because since you’ve locked eyes with him you’ve been unable to stand on your feet. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy you just can’t stop the heat climbing over your face and ears as you replay the moment you met over and over. 

“You realize he’s a part of the ugliest most horrible race known to all of Azarothan.”

“If that’s ugly then I’m dead!”

“M-maybe he did enchant them?”

Meanwhile, the Villain’s returned to home base, shedding his armor and dismissing his entourage. Sat on his throne he replays the words you’ve said to him…over and over….and over again. His ears are turning a deep blue and he can’t help the involuntary reaction of the volcano attached to his castle bubbling with excitement.

“They-they think I’m beautiful?!”

He’s reeling with an overflow of energy and unknown vigor when he recalls your awestruck face as you fell to your knees clutching your enchanted tool. He can’t stop the thought of you in that same position but in a different setting. Cursing his lacking imagination he concocts his usual magic to spy on the troupe with his crystal ball but this time he’s focused solely on you. 

“Surely they’ll brag about the enchantment they left on me…..and maybe talk about their own infatuation again.”

It strokes a different kind of pride when he hears you deny being cursed. The feelings are mutual. He’s over the moon all four of them. You have to understand the Fantasy Villain has never been told something so flattering. 

“From another world….figures. This world could never make such…a perfect soul.”

Since their upbringing, they’ve been met with nothing but scorn and hatred. Vowing to rule and change the world that did that to him. If others did express interest it was because he had power or was literally about to kill them. Your reaction, your unadulterated feelings for him, the tug at his soul is the only sign he needs before his objective changes. 

“I wanted to rule the world so I could change the world for me. But now I’m going to change the world so I can rule with them.”

He means it. The troops are given new orders, the deadly nightmarish beasts are given new tasks, and he’s already concocting a million different plans to attain you. He watches the crystal ball relentlessly trying to hear and see as much as he can to learn more about you. He realizes very quickly that he really hates those adventurers of yours.

“C’mon (Y/n)! Just because you’re attracted to the enemy doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to destroy the world!”

“Yeah (Y/n), you’ve got to get your head in the game. We need you!”

“I–your right…sorry guys…I just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who fits my preferences so perfectly.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“But one look in his galaxy-like eyes and it felt like I did.”

He really hates them. Listening to them talk you out of your feelings for him. Before you arrived they were minor pests. Simply a small roadblock that he would eventually crush to shatter the hopes of the people when they needed them most. Now they were just obstacles in the way of his goal–you.

“Sire those adventurers you told us to keep an eye on are on the move. Should I give the order to attack?”

“No…summon the siren I’d like to take a different approach.”

He gets incredibly crafty, despite only meeting you once he can tell you aren’t heartless like he. He’s certain should you find him to be responsible for the death of anyone you’ve met you’d reject his love. So he’ll make it his plan to slowly break your little troupe, such spunky and erratic individuals may be just the only tool he needs.

“My orders, My Ruler?”

“Join their group. Do what you like with whoever you wish. 

“?”

“Bring discord how you see fit.”

“Yes, My Ruler!”

His plan is perfect and the group isn’t nearly suspicious enough to reject his double agent. Who’s presence triggers the cracks that this group had always had. When the group splits apart needing to cool off you’re left alone, a perfect chance for a moment with you. 

“Hello, little hero.”

“Whoa, what are you doing here? My troupe’s not too far! A-a-a-nd I–I’m willing to fight this time!”

“That’s a shame because I came to speak to you.”

“Really! Ahem, I mean about what?”

“About those words, you said to me….I wonder did you know what they’ve ignited.”

Taking advantage of your easily lowered guard, he speaks the truth. Coming in close enough to feel the heat escaping from your armor, he’ll share the tale of his past. Which as he predicted makes you so sympathetic and just as willing to sing his praises as the moment you met. 

“But you’re not ugly or horrid like they all say.”

“No?”

“I think you’re beyond handsome. One of the most ethereal beings I’ve ever met.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“I know so… I’m just sorry no one else has told you that.”

“I’m happy it was you.”

When you let him dive in for a kiss, naturally you accept it. Returning his vigor in kind if not with sympathy or just your attraction, you miss how he places a magical mark on your neck. Or how he casually enchants your armor to protect you better. Or how he influences the flora and fauna of the forest to curve in the direction you came from essentially blocking the path back to your camp. When he reluctantly releases you he further promises he’s never letting you leave his grasp. Promising to one day have you on the throne beside him.

“I must return and so must you. Your friends will worry.”

“Oh…you’re right.”

“Don’t sound so sad, we’ll meet again.”

“Not just in my dreams.”

“Not just in your dreams.”

He leaves not only giddy with love but with a new plan in mind. He prepared to be faced with a struggle, to have to fight for your affection as the enemy you’d be fighting. But he wasn’t prepared for your heart to be swayed so easily. Licking your remnants on his lips, he knows that you can be deceived, and conveniently so can the rest of the world.

Fantasy Villain devises that if the history of his race’s banishment and exile were portrayed in a certain light. You could defect to his side without guilt and if some of the more stubborn adventurers were to also agree that’d make things so much easier. Pretending to be persuaded to sign some peace treaty after being gifted enough land to rule over with you beside him didn’t sound too bad.

Even if that didn’t work the Fantasy Villain has decided you will rule beside him whether he has to trick, drug, or force you to be his. Though he adores the honest love in your eyes when he looks at you and he’s going to do whatever he needs to have it. 

[luveline]

Bombshell reader and Spencer finding out she’s pregnant

fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for pregnancy / reader wants to be pregnant

“This is such a peculiar feeling.” 

Spencer’s ready for you physically before his mind has caught up, his hand reaching out for you despite his eyes steadfast on the book he has held to his knee. Legs crossed, relaxing in the supple leather of one of his armchairs, Spencer almost forgot you were here. “What?” he asks. 

“What did I say, or what’s peculiar?” 

“What’s peculiar?” he asks, letting the book fall down the side of his thigh. 

You shuffle closer to his legs, looking down at your clasped hands. “I feel really weird. For a few days. A bit sick, I think.” 

He’s not expecting you to say that; it’s been such a quiet evening, and you haven’t mentioned being ill once yet, despite having slept here and spent the day here in your soft pyjamas. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

Because the thing is, Spencer loves you more than he’s ever loved anybody. It’s immediately unnerving for him to hear you aren’t well, because he doesn't want you to have a single shred of strife in your life, not even a papercut. He pulls you closer and closer, looking up into your face, begging to know what’s wrong and unashamed or caring so much. “You’re worrying me,” he prods when you don’t answer. 

“Sorry, I’m just…” You lean forward gently. Spencer takes your weight to his side, his cheek to your chest. You face down, wrapping an arm behind his shoulder. “Just have a funny feeling,” you whisper. 

“What kind of feeling?” he asks. Spencer could tell you a hundred different facts on funny feelings, gut feelings, and intuition, but that’s not strictly helpful right now. Then again, he knows he’s loved, and so he says the most burning one aloud before he forgets, “Intuition is based on the collating of facts by your brain to predict future events. It’s usually unconscious.” 

You touch his hair mindlessly. “Is it usually right?” 

“I think that’s up to opinion. Why, angel?” he asks, letting his voice slip into a deeper, settled rasp. He hopes it says what he’s trying to prove to you every single day, that he will take care of you for as long as you’ll let him. “What are you thinking is wrong?” 

“I don’t know if it’s wrong…” 

He’s so confused. “You can tell me anything,” he assures you, pulling at your hands. There’s room in the armchair for you so long as you’re okay with putting your legs over his, and you are, curling up next to him with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. 

“I know, Spencer. Just let me think about it for a minute.” 

“Okay.” He takes your hand once again. For a few minutes he waits in the quiet, rubbing small circles into the back of your hand, trying hard not to look at you lest you feel pressured to talk. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, “I have a few things in that bag I brought over for emergencies, you know? In the bathroom. And I have a pregnancy test in there, so I’m going to take it. How do you… how would you feel about that?” 

“I’d feel whatever you needed me to,” he says instinctively, the word pregnancy on a flashing look in his mind’s eye. “You think you might be pregnant?” 

“Before I take it, before, is that a bad thing if I am?” 

He’s shocked to see you acting this way, so far from your regularly scheduled programming. Spencer always assumed that if you ever did become pregnant, he’d learn about it like everybody else. You’d tell him with a big smile or a proud kiss and go about your day. You know what you're worth, and to be pregnant is your decision, your body. 

“Of course not,” he says, frowning. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Why are you asking me?” 

“Because it’s something that would affect both of us?” 

“No, of course, of course, angel, I just mean, why would it ever be a bad thing?” He puts his hand on your neck. “Unless you think it is.” 

“This isn’t something I get to just decide by myself, this decision. I can’t make it alone,” you say. 

“Yes you can.” He cups your neck. “But I’d love to make it with you.” 

You smile. He can tell you’re going to share your thoughts with him before you do, your eyes clearing with worry for now, and instead shining with your usual, breath-stealing light. “I hope I am,” you say. 

He hadn’t known he’d feel this way until right this second. “I hope you are too.” 

Your giggle sounds ever so slightly teary and hug him. You kiss his neck, and then you spring out of his lap to drag him with you to the bathroom. It’s a straightforward process but the waiting is agony, you and him sitting on the counter by the sink basin, hands squeezing at each other's fingers with the test baking on his thigh. 

“This is crazy,” you murmur. “We were having a normal day.” 

“Normal to amazing would be good,” he says. 

“What are we gonna do?” 

“Well, I’ll have to make some more money.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I,” he says with a laugh. “Do you know how expensive children are?” 

“How did your mom afford you and your three PhDs?” 

“I got most of that stuff for free,” he says, “on account of being smart for my age.” 

You laugh softly. “That’s one way to say it.” 

Spencer leans down to kiss your shoulder. “We’ll have to move in together. Like, forever.” 

“Oh no.” You prop your head on his. “I basically live here anyways. All the time.” 

We’ll have to get married, Spencer thinks, but that’s not necessarily true, and then thinks it should probably be a surprise, before he says, “And I’ll have to ask you to marry me.” 

“Not just because I’m–”

“No, not just because you’re pregnant,” he says, though neither of you know yet if that’s true. “Never.” 

“That would be admirable.” 

He doesn’t know about that, but he knows one thing. “I love you. Really. More than anything.” 

“Don’t worry, Spencer. I love you too.” 

“Would that be something you wanted?” he asks quietly. 

“I’ll say yes whenever you want to ask me,” you say, equally as quiet. “I would’ve said yes five years ago.” You weren’t together five years ago, and he believes it anyways.

Spencer kisses up your cheek and pulls you into his side with a last press of his lips to your temple. The test on his thigh hasn’t changed. It’s a digital one, so you’ll know for sure just as soon as it’s ready. He feels like he can’t breathe right, waiting, waiting, wishing. 

“I’m with you no matter what,” he says under his breath. 

“I know.” You turn your lips into his cheek, breath fanning his skin. “You know pregnancy makes a woman more beautiful, right?” 

“I don’t see how that could possibly happen to you, but I’m excited nonetheless.” 

You laugh and smile into his cheek, kissing the slight hollow of it tenderly. 

On your thigh, the test blinks to Pregnant. 

You don’t notice, too busy kissing him still, your smile hard to ignore as you mumble, “If I’m pregnant, and we’re gonna do all those things you said before, I promise I’ll make you happy, Spence. I’m gonna be good to you. We’re going to be so, so happy, we’re gonna have a house with a garden and a hundred types of flowers, and we’ll keep bees at the end of it, and we’ll have two libraries for all your books, three if you want it, and–”

“I’ll make you happy,” he echoes, “I promise. I’m gonna take care of everything.” 

“–the nursery…” You stop kissing him, hearing what it is he hasn’t managed to say in the wavering tone of his voice. You look down as he passes you the test. 

“No matter what you want,” he swears. 

Your happy tears are plentiful and not what he’s expecting. You wrap your arms around his neck and cry with your legs hanging off of the counter, the test digging into his shoulder, drawing a line over his skin as you check it to be sure and prompt another round of tears. They aren’t loud tears. Your sniffles are half giggle. 

“We never do things in the right order,” you say, blissfully happy. 

“I don’t think there’s a wrong one.” His turn now to press kisses to your tacky cheek.

“We used to hold hands under the round table.” You shudder with tears. 

Lovelorn and unsure, not even dating, your fingers sewn together under the conference table as someone spoke you through the case of the day. His heart in his throat, and your thumb rubbing circles so slowly into his skin his wrist would ache for hours afterwards remembering. You and Spencer have always done things in your own order, and he’d never say wrong. 

[deadsetobsessions]

Green Lantern hovered in the doorway of the med bay. He’d been summoned, but he had no idea what for.

“You know, spooky, some of us have lives to get back to. Not everyone can exist off of just work and blood or whatever,” Hal poked fun at Batman, who rubbed at his jaw tiredly. Hal blinked, stamping down the guilt that arose at Batsy’s uncharacteristic show of any emotion other than stone cold rationality or exasperation or anger. At least they’ve moved past grunts. That just lends credence to Hal’s theory of Batman being an immortal, like Vandal Savage. Batman could totally pass for a caveman, he’s got the grunts down, for sure.

“Still not a vampire. We found the Ghost King. The one the GIW was trying to hide in their records.”

“Well, shit.” Hal’s expression flattened, remembering the unsanctioned government branch that violated the Meta Rights act to a degree where even Amanda Waller had washed her hands of them. Bats had found evidence that they were experimenting on a child when a “source” had hacked into the base and begged them to find the child. Phantom, the hacker had claimed, who had managed to destroy the portal to the Infinite Realms

Batman had tried to boot the guy out of the system, until the hacker told them Phantom was the King of the Infinite Realms.

That got Constantine terrified, which urged Batman into a full hunting mode to track down the king. Mostly in part because Constantine said something along the lines of, “If the King dies, the Infinite Realms will wage war and decimate us. And considering they’re the realm of the dead, we’d lose so badly, even the demons won’t help us out for our bloody souls.”

Granted, he didn’t have that terrible British accent Hal attached to his voice every time the Green Lantern thought about the sad trench coat wizard, but the point still stood.

“He’s not fully conscious due to… his injuries, but the moments where he was, he reacted best to the color green.”

Hal did not want to know what kind of creepy stalker things Batman did to get that knowledge.

“Oh, great. You called me because I’m green,” he said to Batman as he floated into the med bay. “I can be green. I’m amazing at being green.”

Even with the sarcastic tone, Hal made sure to up his lantern aura, glowing a bright neon green. It wouldn’t do to help start a war if he wasn’t green enough.

Hal looked at the Ghost King, and yeah, he could see why Bats was so off his stoic face game today. Because the Ghost King looked like a teenager, and Bats is a bleeding heart and everyone knows it.

Hal waved away Batman, “Go back to Gotham and drink your true blood or whatever. You look like you’ve seen the sun too much.”

Translation: go home, you look tired.

Batman nodded, in thanks, and left to sleep (probably. Hal has never caught the man doing something so… plebeian). Hal is left playing babysitter. To an inter dimensional being that could- probably more like “would,” considering the live dissection he went through at the hands of humans- destroy their entire planet and/or universe. Another Tuesday for the Justice League.